By Andrew Salmon
Speaking on the traditions of the Royal Naval, an anonymous wag ― often misidentified as Churchill ― coined one of the great phrases of the English language when he summarized the service’s traditions as, “Rum, sodomy and the lash.”
Catchy? Certainly, but a harsh judgment on a highly effective naval body that ruled the waves for well over a century. It also demonstrates that a nation’s armed forces are an easy target for below-the-belt criticism and that is something 21st-century Koreans might mull, given the dire PR this nation’s armed services suffer from in wider society.
Koreans’ lack of respect for the profession of arms is no recent thing. Customarily in “Olde Corea,” soldiers ― members of a neo-Confucian society which lauded scholarly achievement ― occupied one of the lowest rungs of the social ladder.
Moreover, the nation in the East that most extolled martial virtues hardly endeared itself to Koreans when Japan colonized the peninsula in 1910. And of course, the generals who ruled this country from 1965 to 1987, building a monster economy while crushing political freedoms, hardly burnished the military’s reputation.
On the micro-level, the parents of today’s conscripts have legitimate concerns. Upon donning camouflage, their fresh-faced son will soon ― if he has not acquired the taste already ― adopt the habits of tobacco and soju. He may encounter predatory homosexuals among his NCOs and officers.
And the harsh hazing and punishment common to militaries worldwide ― and given Korean traditions of corporal punishment and peer pressure, perhaps particularly severe here ― add to the stress load. So soju, sodomy and the lash are significant issues, and the stresses of military life are reflected in the reportedly high suicide rates among conscripts.
Yet ― and this may surprise many Koreans ― their armed forces are top tier.
U.S 8th Army officers frequently state that South Korea operates the best military they work alongside. Given that U.S. troops in Afghanistan are currently allied with Australian, British, Canadian, French and German ― all nations which boast impressive martial pedigrees ― contingents, that puts the ROK military in elite company. Oddly, although Koreans are hyper-sensitive about the place of their institutions in international rankings, the excellence of their military tends to be ignored.
Meanwhile, soldierly virtues ― the primacy of teamwork; the acceptance of risk; the prioritization of courage ― are little remarked upon or valued. In a nation with a massive manufacturing base this is odd, for the lessons of leadership inculcated in military academies are far superior to anything found on an MBA course: leading a platoon in the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) calls for greater character than, say, heading up a marketing team. These issues combine to make the armed forces a target for some frankly ridiculous criticism.
One alleged expert, quoted in the vernacular media following the Cheonan tragedy, opined that the military must have mishandled the vessel, as it was unthinkable for a modern corvette to be sunk by a single torpedo. This genius ignored the fact that a single torpedo sank the Argentinian heavy-cruiser Belgrano in 1982 ― and the Belgrano was 10 times the displacement of the Cheonan.
Others criticized marine artillery for not returning fire quickly or accurately enough during the Yeonpyeong attack. These critics were presumably ignorant of how difficult (and usually ineffective) counter-battery fire has historically been.
Still, there are positive signs.
After much howling and finger pointing at the naval leadership _ including retroactive demands for the Cheonan’s captain to have gone down with his ship (!)― the public sobered up following the death of a navy diver. The man had overridden safety limits in order to spend the maximum time below.
After the humiliations of the Cheonan and Yeonpyeong, the ROK Navy pulled off a dramatic rescue in the Indian Ocean, sparking a Special Forces love fest across the media. True, the jolly hearties of the Somali main are a tier-two threat compared to Kim Jong-il’s grim legions, but the SEAL pursuit and assault ranks as arguably the most daring operation yet mounted against 21st century pirates.
At the time of writing, South Korea’s hottest heartthrob, Hyeon Bin, has stated his intention to join the marines. This provides a positive model for two reasons.
The first is that entertainers’ various stratagems to avoid military service hit the news with depressing frequency. Secondly, many pretty boys, once in green, are posted to safe all-singing, all-dancing, PR functions well away from the frontline. The marines, on the other hand, are the toughest branch of the ROK military; their West Sea bases are as frontline as one can get.
The armed forces of a democracy draw its members from among wider society: As citizen soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines, they represent the nation, and go into action on the say-so of elected leadership.
The military’s role in South Korean politics is over, but its role in national defense endures, for just 40 miles north of Seoul lies a true “military first” society, one that, for all its leftwing credentials, is akin to the fascist Japan of the 1930s.
This makes South Korea’s forces more vital to their nation than most: They are not expeditionary forces, they defend home soil against a real threat. And that duty ― as seen on March 26 and Nov. 23, 2010 ― may demand the supreme sacrifice.
For all these reasons, South Korea’s armed forces deserve greater respect from wider society.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based journalist and author. He can be reached at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.