Our gratitude can't be a single-day event
Charles Chang
Korea's 78th Armed Forces Day ceremony at Gyeryongdae on Thursday has much to appreciate: service members standing in formation, aircraft overhead and displays of the increasingly sophisticated technology on which Korea's defense will depend.
But what stayed with me was something President Lee Jae Myung said.
After discussing artificial intelligence (AI), drones and the transformation of Korea's armed forces, Lee turned to something decidedly less technological: the people who serve. Strong national defense, he argued, does not come from weapons alone. Morale matters. So do the conditions under which people serve and how the country treats their sacrifice.
Reflecting on soldiers recently injured near the demilitarized zone, Lee made an even simpler observation. The ordinary days the rest of us enjoy sometimes rest on risks borne by someone else.
Watching the ceremony, I found myself reconsidering something I had assumed.
I had thought Korea simply did not do enough to recognize its military. That is not quite right. Korea knows how to commemorate its armed forces, and this year's events and the president's remarks demonstrated that.
The harder question is what happens after Armed Forces Day.
Korean service members have done remarkable things on behalf of their country, sometimes far from public view. Thousands served in Iraq, carrying out reconstruction, medical and humanitarian missions. Korean troops have served in peacekeeping operations from Lebanon to South Sudan.
And then there was the Samho Jewelry.
In January 2011, Somali pirates seized the Korean-operated chemical carrier in the Arabian Sea with 21 crew members aboard. Six days later, South Korean naval special forces from the Cheonghae Unit stormed the ship in Operation Dawn of the Gulf of Aden and rescued all 21 hostages.
It was the kind of operation that becomes part of military legend. At the time, it was national news and the troops were rightly praised.
But that is precisely what interests me.
Korea does not necessarily fail to recognize military service when something extraordinary happens. Recognition comes. Presidents speak. Medals are awarded. Television cameras arrive.
Then the moment passes.
Contrast that with the place military service occupies in the civic culture of countries such as the United States and Britain. Neither model should simply be transplanted to Korea, but recognition extends well beyond official ceremonies.
In the United States, Veterans Day involves schools, communities, businesses and sporting organizations. In Britain, remembrance traditions coexist with an Armed Forces Covenant built around an enduring relationship between the armed forces and civilian society. Even employers participate. U.S. companies such as General Motors actively recruit veterans and seek to translate military leadership and experience into civilian careers.
The point is not that Korea needs more discounts, parades or "thank you for your service" slogans. Imported gestures can easily become artificial.
The more interesting question is whether military service retains meaning in civilian life after the uniform comes off.
Korea has understandable reasons for being complicated about this. Conscription means military service is experienced by many men as an obligation rather than a voluntary calling. More importantly, Korea's history of military coups and authoritarian government taught the country an essential democratic lesson: The armed forces must remain under civilian authority and outside politics. The recent martial law crisis reminded Koreans why that principle cannot be taken for granted.
Lee addressed precisely that issue on Armed Forces Day, stressing constitutional loyalty, political neutrality and the restoration of public trust.
But there is no contradiction between those principles and respect for military service.
A democracy can be deeply suspicious of military involvement in politics while being deeply appreciative of the people who defend it. Accountability and appreciation are not opposites.
I was reminded of that distinction recently when I came across an interview with retired Gen. Kang Shin-chul, former deputy commander of the Korea-U.S. Combined Forces Command and now minister of national defense. Kang spoke about military strength as something accumulated over time through training, leadership, experience and culture.
That last word stayed with me: culture.
We tend to measure military power through things we can count: troops, aircraft, missiles, defense spending and, increasingly, AI and advanced technology.
But a military does not exist apart from the society that produces it.
Society produces the young conscript standing watch tonight, the non-commissioned officer who makes the military a career, the officer expected to lead in war, the sailor operating thousands of kilometers from home and the family that accepts years of moves and separation.
How those people believe their service is regarded must also matter.
Military appreciation, then, is not merely something a nation owes its service members after they serve. It is part of the culture that shapes who will be willing to serve tomorrow, how they will serve and whether talented people view military service as worthy of pride.
Lee was right to connect morale with military strength.
Watching this year's Armed Forces Day ceremony, I was encouraged by the attention given to the people behind Korea's defense. I would take nothing away from the ceremony or the president's message.
The challenge is making sure that recognition does not end when Armed Forces Day does.
By the next day, the aircraft had landed. The speeches were over. Most uniforms disappeared from television.
But somewhere, a young Korean is standing watch. Korean sailors remain at sea. Korean troops remain deployed abroad. Veterans of missions most of us have forgotten have returned to ordinary civilian lives.
Perhaps the real measure of our relationship with those who serve begins now.
Armed Forces Day gives Korea an opportunity to express its gratitude.
The harder task is carrying it through the rest of the year.
Charles Chang is a PhD candidate in AI Convergence and a security resilience consultant based in Seoul, with extensive experience spanning government and corporate leadership.