Cityscapes Noryangjin seafood vendors make their last stand

Early morning on Feb. 21, eviction protesters of Noryangjin Fisheries Wholesale Market prepare to defend their encampment in front of Noryangjin Station with bottled water. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

By Ron Bandun

The tent village in front of Noryangjin Station resembled a typical Seoul night market, as merchants dug in their heels and prepared for an imminent assault. They had some seafood products on display, as well as a couple tanks full of fish, but sales were the last thing on their minds.

Word was a force of 400 to 500 hired goons would descend on these mostly peaceful elderly protesters around 4 a.m. and evict them forcefully from the square. There were now only 70 to 80 merchants left, people who had done business out of the old Noryangjin Fisheries Wholesale Market.

The market was now hidden behind demolition fences. A new building had opened next door in October 2015, and most of the merchants had relocated there, some less enthusiastically than others. The new building looks cleaner, but it doesn't smell better ― apparently due to lack of ventilation as it isn't an open-air market like the old one. Merchants complained the stalls aren't big enough, and their rent is increased significantly from the old building. The conflict boiled over in 2016, miring one of Seoul's favorite cultural landmarks in conflict.

I found myself in front of the station at 3 a.m. on Feb. 21, the day of the raid, after reading a Facebook post from a musician friend. I was drawn there because I had to witness this conflict, played out across Seoul so many times, for myself.

There was water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Apparently the merchants had been told the police would not intervene if they threw water, so water bottles were stocked all around the protest site.

The people were welcoming, representing an eclectic mix of elderly merchants and young artist-activists. They had fortified the stairs up to the overpass running over the train tracks from the front of the station to the old market building, and set up a canopy on the overpass itself, transforming it into a camp for the merchants, mostly female, who stayed in there. This would be the target of the hired goons.

Sure enough, the hired goons arrived at 4 a.m. sharp. First they flooded the street in front of the station, surrounding the protest camp's perimeter. A tow truck arrived to remove the cars parked in front, but protesters barricaded its path. Harsh words were exchanged, and the protesters flung water at the goons.

Workers, left, smash their way into an evictee encampment in front of Noryangjin Station in Seoul, Feb. 21, while police, right, stand to the side. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

What are these “hired goons” I keep mentioning? The Korean term, “yongyeok,” is often translated roughly to “errand men,” although I could see women among the forces surrounding us. They are a type of contract laborer often hired to bust up union protests, street food vendors and evicted buildings, among other jobs. They are hired by government bodies and development companies, often to violently evict people. I'd heard of their cruel tactics and I'd seen the consequences of their actions at eviction sites such as Dongdaemun Market where 500 of them were sent to evict 75 merchants, and Yongsan District 4 where they drove evictees into the ill-fated Namildang building, the site of the 2009 Yongsan Disaster. The Noryangjin people have been saying their protest could possibly become the “second Yongsan Disaster.”

This was my first time seeing a battle between hired goons and evictee protesters, and it was distressing.

As an outside observer, I stayed back from the frontline, but suddenly I found myself in the thick of it, as the hired goons began attacking the merchants' tents, shaking them apart and ripping through to gain entry. It became a full-on water fight, as the protesters fought back with splashes from bottles, buckets, anything available.

Eviction protesters from the old Noryangjin Fisheries Wholesale Market fight back with water as workers tear through their tents. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

Where were the police during all this? They were standing to the side in phalanxes, witnessing the scene passively just like me, only there to act as referees to make sure neither side committed crimes too grave to be overlooked.

I have no doubt the Noryangjin Fish Market Modernization Project began in 2004 with noble intentions. But at some point after it won approval to move forward with the relocation plan, it became unstoppable, showing no sympathy for the lives that were crushed. It has become a matter of a rich man's version of capitalism versus a poor man's ― and woman's ― version of capitalism, and the outcome is inevitable.

But on this night, the evictee merchants held out, and by the next evening the square was once again filled with new tents. The merchants celebrated the continuation of their struggle with a feast of fried chicken and soju.

The activity here has since dissipated, partly out of coronavirus fears and partly because of the upcoming elections.