Save the hanok

A hanok in disrepair awaits demolition near Gongdeok Station, western Seoul, September 2016. / Korea Times photo by Jon Dunbar

By Jon Dunbar

I lived in Bukchon Hanok Village for over two years, and each day I faced hordes of tourists coming to admire the traditional Korean hanok architecture of the area. Yet whenever I left my neighborhood, I'd see numerous examples of the Korean-style houses fallen into disrepair or doomed by urban renewal.

They're demolished one at a time or in clusters, all around the city. Rarely are voices raised in protest at the devastation of cultural heritage, and those that are, are unlikely to find a sympathetic ear.

It may sound surprising in days like these, when cosplayers rent cheap hanbok to promenade around Bukchon and Insadong, when young people are discovering nearby Ikseon-dong, and when hanok villages all across the nation see brisk tourism.

But as I drove past Gongdeok station in western Seoul this fall, there at the side of the road was an ugly striped green-and-pink curtain, the unofficial colors of urban renewal in Korea. It concealed at least 40 hanok packed together in a tight network of alleys in various stages of eviction and demolition.

They may not have been as fancy as the hanok of Gahoe-dong, or as historically significant, but there they were, destined to be ground into splinters and clay.

Now, they have disappeared from the face of the Earth, existing only in memories and photographs.

Former residents of the abandoned houses I've seen may not have appreciated the lifestyle, as many had covered their madang (courtyard) with a garish canopy. Likewise, as roof tiles are expensive, some homeowners neglect their upkeep, leading to graceful arched roofs hidden under tarps, often weighed down in vulgar fashion by old tires.

But still, we are told that architectural preservation is in full swing, at least in some spots.

A hanok in Gye-dong, Bukchon Hanok Village, central Seoul, is destroyed in April 2014 to make way for an entirely new hanok. / Korea Times photo by Jon Dunbar

It seems like as long as there are a few examples to hold up in central Seoul, what happens to the others doesn’t matter. According to data from the Seoul Institute, the city that had 22,672 hanok in 2006 had only 11,195 in 2014, a loss of over 50 percent.

Even those in Jongno aren’t safe, as the district reduced its hanok count from 6,336 to 4,143 in the same period, a 35 percent loss.

My first time coming to Bukchon, I wandered through the alleys trying to find the hanok village part, wondering if I'd even come to the right area. By the time I moved to Gye-dong in 2014, many of the hanok had been converted into cafes, restaurants and homestays. More would make that transformation in my time there. The area was designated a residential zone, even though the residency rate was low and dropping. This was apparent in the evening after the tourists all boarded their buses and disappeared, leaving the streets deserted, almost like that urban renewal zone by Gongdeok station.

Shortly after I moved in, I noticed an unpleasant change in the view from my window: across the alley from me was a space where a building had recently been destroyed. Consulting earlier pictures, I confirmed there had been a hanok there only weeks earlier. Its removal created a blemish over the area. Over the next three months I observed as an entirely new hanok, totally unrelated in form, material and history to the previous one, was erected on that spot. This is apparently what passes as hanok "preservation."

That practice has been widespread throughout Bukchon. David Kilburn's website, kahoidong.com, thoroughly documents this loss. This demolition of the area’s architectural heritage has been ongoing for decades, but it’s only been in recent years that the new buildings popping up have been new-style hanok themselves.

And the new-style hanok village is a hit. Tourists and pro photographers alike hike up there to get that money shot showing those nice hanok-lined streets up on the slopes of Gahoe-dong, contrasted with the hyper-development of downtown in the background. Not enough people realize that too many of those houses were built in the 21st century. If they knew, would it matter to them?

I don't know how to save Seoul's endangered hanok. It will take more than legislation, as citizens need to decide whether we want to save them, as well as how they will be used.

The writer is a contributing writer to The Korea Times.