When rumors turn deadly (1): Demons in the wood

Two Korean wood-sellers in the late 19th or early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection

For farmers, rain is spiritual. It was believed that precipitation will come at a certain time of the year, and in sufficient quantity to sustain life. Their existence depended on it, and when it failed to fall, famine and death often followed.

In the spring of 1924, the rain did not come to the southern part of the peninsula. Nor did it come in the summer. A warm, dry wind blew from the southeast, and the heat became unbearable. The once-luxurious rice paddies became barren stretches of parched, cracked earth. What the drought spared was devoured by swarms of hungry insects.

The people suffered. Drinking water was scarce, and the price of rice rose sharply, further exacerbating the misery. Roots, stems and even bark became many people’s daily diet. Beggars roamed the countryside in search of food.

But not all of the peninsula suffered from drought. In bitter contrast, the northern Hwanghae Province was ravaged by floods.

To the superstitious, the calamity that gripped the peninsula was the result of the gods’ displeasure. Many reasons were given for this anger. Perhaps the offerings during the ceremonies for bountiful harvests had been inadequate. Others believed the mountain spirits were offended, and in an attempt to appease them, families disinterred the graves of their loved ones and moved them to less desirable locations.

Adding to the fear were the rumors. Self-declared prophets and seers claimed that a powerful ghost roamed the countryside, reaping the souls of the poor. Others warned that a wood demon would appear in the eighth or ninth lunar month. According to the tales, this demon was angered by the indiscriminate harvesting of timber and sought revenge. It would arise from the trees and bring disease to anyone who touched or burned wood. The demon poisoned the land and spread strange illnesses among both livestock and people.

The rumors carried a nationalistic tinge — it was said the Japanese would die first, and afterward the Koreans and Chinese would suffer similar fates.

The superstitious were so terrified that many refused to burn wood; others avoided going into the fields, worsening their plight.

Of course, there were those willing to profit from these fears. In Gyeonggi Province, a man who called himself “Geumgangsangjung” sold talismans that he claimed would protect the wearer from disease, poor harvests and the foul touch of malevolent spirits. He wasn’t the only one offering magical protection. In North Chungcheong Province, another man sold a similar amulet that promised to shield the wearer from the misfortunes brought by the powerful ghost said to haunt that region.

Government officials tried to explain to the frightened people that there were no demons or ghosts, and that the calamities afflicting the country were natural. Their explanations, however, fell on deaf ears.

Newspaper editors also urged their readers to beware of these superstitious beliefs, warning that the only people prospering during these hard times were the swindlers. They called upon the authorities to severely punish the rumormongers and those who deceived everyday people, disturbing the peace of society.

But, as we shall see in the next article, there were scarier things than swindlers and demons in the wood.