
Police investigate a site in Seodaemoon district, Seoul, where a man, 50, set himself on fire, Feb 12. /Korea Times photo by Lee Suh-yoon
A Korea Times rookie reporter reflects on her two weeks covering police beats. Here is her account. -- ED.
By Lee Suh-yoon
It was last Monday, three days into the PyeongChang Olympics. People watched on their smartphones as Chloe Kim made her first half-pipe run.
I went to a site where a man had just set himself on fire.
The idea of seeing a corpse for the first time overwhelmed me. In the taxi, my mind was filled with questions: What caused the man to take such an extreme measure? How would I react? And other questions, too.
I was the first journalist to arrive. The corpse was hidden from view. Police officers were annoyed at my entrance. “Stay off the police line!” one officer barked.
Fifteen minutes later, I texted my senior reporter: "A man, 50, doused himself with paint thinner he bought from a nearby store and set himself on fire in the middle of Moraenae Road 229-5, Seodaemun (western Seoul) at 13:33 p.m. today. The body is now being moved to a mortuary in Dongshin Hospital.”
The senior reporter told me to find out more about the dead man’s character of and why he would take his life. If his death was related to a failed bitcoin investment, it could be front page material ― or so I was told.
I followed the instruction and carried out my investigations of the man. Few in the neighborhood knew him. So I tried talking to the surviving family, but they pushed me out the door.
Police said that the motive seemed personal. I could not find anything more. The story was “killed.”
The incident was one of my experiences as part of “satsumawari” ― an on-the-job training scheme for rookie reporters in Korea. The term is Japanese, probably dating back to when Japan occupied Korea as a colonial power.
Durin this training period, cub reporters camp out at police stations, sleeping on makeshift beds inside police station pressrooms. Day and night, they watch out for murders, suicides, arson, thefts and so forth in their assigned precinct.
Most Korean newspapers require all cub reporters to undergo the satsumawari program for three to six months. Three Korea Times rookie reporters were put under the scheme for two weeks in cooperation with the police beat team at Hankook Ilbo ― Korea Time's vernacular sister paper.
Satsumawari is a tried and tested method for training new reporters. However, it has come under mounting criticism on human rights grounds ― little sleep, excessive competition and other negative effects.
Critics also point out that publishing the first "exclusive" account of an incident is not as meaningful in the digital age. Follow-up reports with more quality reporting easily replaces the first article online.
Some of the stories I found were shocking, but few made it to the editor. They were simply not shocking enough ― only the most extreme cases of violence make it to publication.
Nonetheless, the two weeks opened my eyes to the pervasiveness of violence and injustice in society, especially from the position of those at the bottom of the socio-economic ladder.
At Seodaemoon police station, I interviewed a young part-time mechanic who was badly beaten up by an older worker for talking back. He asked me whether his story would be published.
“Probably not,” I sighed. He was disappointed and so was I.