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Inside a Buddhist monastery, possibly Pohyon Temple, in modern-day North Pyongan Province, North Korea, circa 1910s / Courtesy of Jan Downing |
By Robert Neff
Religions often extol the virtues of tolerance towards one another but in Korea in the late 19th and early 20th centuries there seems to have been little tolerance, particularly among the Western missionaries.
Rev. Samuel Forman Moore, a fire-and-brimstone Presbyterian who has been described as being "sometimes more zealous than wise" demonstrated his intolerance while visiting a Buddhist monastery outside of Seoul in 1893. He was accused of smashing some of the religious items, which he vehemently denied ― even though the American legation's secretary witnessed the destruction.
Moore claimed that "not even one image was cracked or injured in the slightest degree. It was only when the chief priest of the temple had agreed with me that the images were a lot of rubbish and ought to be thrown away that I lightly tapped one as illustrating their inanity."
About a decade later, missionaries in Korea and the United States were horrified to discover that an American factory in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, was exporting Buddhist religious images to Korea.
According to one U.S. newspaper, a female missionary who had returned recently from China "was appalled at the idea that people in a Christian country would consent to manufacture idols for poor and unenlightened heathens to worship."
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Images in a Buddhist monastery, possibly Pohyon Temple, in modern-day North Korea circa 1910s / Courtesy of Jan Downing |
Methodist Bishop Cyrus David Foss was quoted as saying, "It is to be regretted that Uncle Sam is placing missionaries among the heathen with one hand and with the other hand is placing idols among them. Conduct so inconsistent must fill the more thoughtful heathen with amazement."
However, Bishop Foss also seemed somewhat inconsistent. In another paper he said the manufacture of Buddhist religious items and their export to Korea by an American company wasn't as bad as "England's sending opium to India, or the United States sending beer or whisky to the Philippines, or other colonial possessions."
A newspaper in Texas declared it was more shocking for Australians to buy British flags made in America than Koreans to buy religious items manufactured in the United States.
The manufacture of non-Christian religious items by Western countries was nothing new. Rev. Frederic Poole stated that "a good percentage of the world's idols are made by Christian nations" as part of "the spirit of commercialism of the age and tended to put money-making above religious decency." The U.S. was not alone; Germany was said to be the leading manufacturer of non-Christian religious items exported to Africa and Asia.
Perhaps it comes as no surprise that the manufacturer in Philadelphia was a German toymaker who had arrived in that city in 1901. He agreed to be interviewed by the local newspaper on the condition his name not be mentioned.
"I am not ashamed of my business," he said. "It is not on account of shame that I withhold my name. It is on account of the visits of clergymen and missionaries and on account of the letters urging me to shut up shop that hundreds of pious women write."
The German explained that after one of his friends advised him that the manufacture of religious items was more profitable than toys, he established his factory in a one-story wooden building and began to mass-produce religious items to be sold in India, China and Korea.
"I sell a good many idols to Korea," he said. "They buy Buddhas made out of wood. At the Korean temples, after prayers, each worshipper gives to the secretariat at the gate a piece of money and receives in return a little god. It is these little gods that I make."
When he was informed about criticisms from religious leaders in Philadelphia (especially Bishop Foss), the manufacturer countered:
"I make Buddhas. These Buddhas go out into the world and turn men's thoughts to the rules of Buddhism. They cause men to pray, to be clean, to be temperate, [and] to be kind. If I made whiskey or opium for the heathen ― things that harm them ― I would be ashamed of my business. Since I only make gods I am not ashamed."
Despite the efforts of the religious leaders in Philadelphia, his company was a success as evidenced by the "wide-spread demand" for his products which were "better and dearer than those Made-in-Germany."
But within a few years, a new threat to his company surfaced ― competition. In early 1907, John Kavanaugh (a former American gold miner in Korea who also worked for the Korean government's coal company) arrived in Joplin, Missouri, in search of sufficient calcite ― known as "glass tiff" ― to export to Pyongyang where he planned on establishing his own factory to manufacture Buddhist religious materials.
According to Kavanaugh, while working for the Korean government, he noticed that every Korean constantly carried "a small glittering idol to ward off disease and disaster of every kind." These religious items were prone to break ― due to their constant use ― and had to be replaced frequently. He was determined to supply the demand for a more durable item ― one that was a "pretty bauble, fairly shaped" and with "wear-resisting qualities." The question was what material could be used to manufacture these religious items? According to several newspapers, the answer came from a Christian missionary.
"How Kavanaugh came to Joplin carries with it a pretty satire. He was directed to this field by a woman missionary [Miss Mary Oglesby] in Korea. Herself teaching the Koreans to desert the worship of hand-made gods, she unwittingly told Kavanaugh where he could find the material he sought for the purpose of commercializing the god making business on an elaborate scale."
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An ancient monastery, possibly Pohyon Temple, in North Korea circa 1910s / Courtesy of Jan Downing |
Apparently, for whatever reasons, Kavanaugh failed to obtain the calcite and, later that summer, returned to Korea where he married 28-year-old Yuke Tarigawa. Yet, despite the failure of his proposed idol manufacturing business, he considered himself quite blessed for he still had his trading business, some mining interests and "good chow," and was earning fairly good money. But Lady Luck is fickle and Kavanaugh probably regretted not having some of the "small glittering idols" his Korean employees carried to ward off bad luck.
A few days before Christmas, a fire broke out in an adjoining house and spread to his home quickly, forcing his wife to escape through a window and destroying everything within. Kavanaugh had no insurance.
He eventually recovered financially, but his life would prove to be short and filled with sadness ― but that is a tale for another time.
Robert Neff is a historian and columnist for The Korea Times.