Free speech: use it or lose it

By Andrew Salmon

Last year, I was approached, as a Korea-based foreign reporter, to write/present two documentaries for KBS, to be filmed along the North Korea-China border. My views and those of the filmmakers coincided. The projects went ahead.

The broad arguments made in the programs were not, I thought, particularly controversial. The arguments were, basically: Politics and diplomacy have failed to change North Korea. Currently, seismic economic changes are underway inside North Korea. These "bottom-up" changes are positive in that they can potentially enrich and empower many North Koreans and erode state control. Ergo, we (i.e. the wider world) should consider reinforcing these changes and engage with the players.

The documentaries duly aired. I was professionally pleased with the results. KBS has a wide audience, and over subsequent months, I was approached by a number of people ― almost all 40-50something Koreans ― in the street, in shops, in subways and at social gatherings, who had watched them.

However, the conversations that ensued caused me to develop a sense of considerable foreboding.

The discussions were all similar. My interlocutors were all kind, complimenting the programs. But they all said ― in some cases, sotto voce, as if they did not wish to be overhead ― that while they agreed with the documentaries' overall stance, they could not publically say so themselves.

This surprised me. I asked why they felt this way. Almost all said that they felt that a foreigner could say what I had said, but not a Korean. Several said they could not reveal their opinions in case they were "criticized."

I am not entirely sure why this feeling existed. Certainly, the older generation, who lived under authoritarian regimes, had to be more careful airing views about North Korea than the current generation. And certainly, a number of political and judicial developments under the Park Geun-hye administration and its predecessor, the Lee Myung-bak administration (2008-2013), have chiseled away at the principles of free speech and open inquiry.

In 2009, a blogger whose economic views the government disagreed with was jailed. Also during Lee's term, a think-tank head was forced from his position for making comments about the colonial period which questioned conventional wisdom. In 2014, a foreign journalist faced a court case for questioning President Park's whereabouts during the Sewol tragedy. Additionally, right now an academic whose views on "comfort women" are out of sync with the dominant local narrative is being silenced by judicial assault.

Moreover, telecoms are handing over reams of their customers' private information to the government. Seoul, which already has the blunt tool of the National Security Law at hand, is attempting to enact new "anti-terrorism" legislation on flimsy (if not downright dubious) evidence of North Korean threats, evidence produced by a badly discredited agency.

Moreover, the media, a key social agora, is already hobbled. Open any local newspaper and look at the number of articles quoting anonymous, rather than named, sources. This is particularly true when it comes to questions over the non-accountability of the heads of big business (there is a sound economic reason for this: It is an open secret in Korean media circles that any outlet that is harshly critical of conglomerates stands to lose lucrative advertising streams.)

These issues are all pertinent. But there seems to be a wider, more pervasive habit of not speaking up or speaking out that cannot be blamed on recent developments. I sense that social culture, rather than judicial, political or economic factors, has generated sensitivity about raising voices on certain controversial matters.

Strong group identification generates a fear of having one's personal views exposed, if that view does not fit the conventional wisdom. This leads to fears of "sticking one's head above the parapet," of igniting peer criticism, of being ostracized. Certainly, such fears are present in all societies. But in such a strong, closely knit and connected social culture as Korea's, these fears may be more formidable than elsewhere.

Such fears should be quelled. Freely aired views, vigorous debate and rational argument are critical to conflict resolution, be it personal or marital, national or international. Battening down and shutting up is a dire option ― particularly when it comes to taboo subjects, or subjects on which only a single viewpoint predominates.

Taboos should be challenged. People should speak up. The worst kind of censorship is self-censorship. External censorship can, at least, be publicized, resisted and struggled against. Self-censorship is more insidious. If the individual fears to speak his/her mind, that mind is already trammeled; that individual is not free.

Free speech is a critical right. This right ― the right to express contrary viewpoints ― should be respected. And like all rights, it must be exercised. If it is not, bad habits set in, free speech atrophies, and it becomes increasingly vulnerable to suppression.

When it comes to free speech: Use it or lose it.

Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.