By Andrew Salmon
The placement of a comfort woman statue outside the Japanese consulate in Busan was, in a way ― and from the perspective of those who did it ― a brilliant tactic. Custom-designed by a minority interest group to humiliate and provoke Tokyo and to reignite a dying controversy, it did exactly that.
Let's backtrack.
In December 2015, Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, through his foreign minister, made a public apology about the Korean comfort women. It was unequivocal, and widely reported in global media. He also promised governmental compensation ― which was subsequently paid, no strings attached.
In response, Seoul agreed to "consult with related organizations" on the possible relocation of a comfort woman statue outside the Japanese Embassy (contrary to local press reports, this was not a condition of the deal; although Tokyo apologized and paid, the statue remains to this day).
With this done, Seoul and Tokyo agreed, on the governmental level, to end bilateral animosity over the comfort women issue. The agreement held the potential to lay history to rest and refocus Seoul-Tokyo relations on the future, freeing the two nations to proceed on various diplomatic, economic and strategic initiatives. Win-win.
It had been a clever move by Abe. In one fell swoop, Tokyo had given the comfort women what they had long demanded: an official apology and official compensation. The majority of then-living comfort women ― 34 out of 46 ― accepted both the apology and the deal.
Even so, a small, vocal group of comfort women and their supportive NGOs were unwilling to let the issue go. Abe was "insincere," they insisted, and his wording did not admit Japan's "legal responsibility." Still, they had lost their two key messages. And they were a minority.
Protester numbers outside the Japanese Embassy dwindled. Media attention dropped off. It looked as if an issue that had bedeviled bilateral relations since the early 1990s had been laid to rest.
Fast forward one year. A civic group suddenly appeared, attempting to place a second comfort woman statue outside Busan's Japanese consulate. From my perspective, this looked like a desperate move to reignite an almost-extinguished issue. With the national government paralyzed, they had chosen their timing well.
The group had not sought permission, and police removed the statue: Private groups cannot simply establish monuments in public spaces. Then, Busan authorities reversed course and permitted it to be re-placed outside the consulate.
While the placement of further statues was not expressly forbidden in the December 2015 agreement, it is obviously in breach of its spirit. It is arguably also in breach of Article 22 of the 1961 Vienna Convention (which requires host states to prevent "impairment of the dignity" of foreign missions).
Faced with blatant provocation, Tokyo could have acted as they did with the non-removal of the statue outside their Seoul embassy: Use back channels to discuss, while remaining publically mum. Or, Tokyo could have maintained a dignified silence, before raising the issue with Korea's next administration.
Abe must know that, in Korea, public opinion, when it comes to emotive issues, has colossal force. He must also know that the country is mired in crisis, with the government headless. Yet he reacted publicly and furiously. He recalled his ambassador and halted currency swap talks.
With this response, Abe fell headlong into the civic group's ambush, and gave those who questioned his "insincerity" additional ammunition.
Naturally, the Korean establishment sided with the interest group. Media and politicians laid into Abe. Japan-bashing is back in vogue. The entire issue has flared up again.
The December 2015 agreement teeters on the brink. Antagonistic emotions ― both Korean (in action) and Japanese (in reaction) ― may scupper this promising deal.
This is bad news for Korea. At a time when China is unashamedly bullying Korea over THAAD, and when incoming President Donald Trump's Asia policy is far from clear, Korea needs friends. Japan ― a neighbor and fellow democracy which shares a very similar culture to Korea ― would be an ideal partner. That now looks impossible.
Between them, an interest group, Busan authorities and the Japanese prime minister have delinked Seoul-Tokyo relations from the future and re-shackled them to a highly contentious history. Lose-lose.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.
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Let's backtrack.
In December 2015, Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, through his foreign minister, made a public apology about the Korean comfort women. It was unequivocal, and widely reported in global media. He also promised governmental compensation ― which was subsequently paid, no strings attached.
In response, Seoul agreed to "consult with related organizations" on the possible relocation of a comfort woman statue outside the Japanese Embassy (contrary to local press reports, this was not a condition of the deal; although Tokyo apologized and paid, the statue remains to this day).
With this done, Seoul and Tokyo agreed, on the governmental level, to end bilateral animosity over the comfort women issue. The agreement held the potential to lay history to rest and refocus Seoul-Tokyo relations on the future, freeing the two nations to proceed on various diplomatic, economic and strategic initiatives. Win-win.
It had been a clever move by Abe. In one fell swoop, Tokyo had given the comfort women what they had long demanded: an official apology and official compensation. The majority of then-living comfort women ― 34 out of 46 ― accepted both the apology and the deal.
Even so, a small, vocal group of comfort women and their supportive NGOs were unwilling to let the issue go. Abe was "insincere," they insisted, and his wording did not admit Japan's "legal responsibility." Still, they had lost their two key messages. And they were a minority.
Protester numbers outside the Japanese Embassy dwindled. Media attention dropped off. It looked as if an issue that had bedeviled bilateral relations since the early 1990s had been laid to rest.
Fast forward one year. A civic group suddenly appeared, attempting to place a second comfort woman statue outside Busan's Japanese consulate. From my perspective, this looked like a desperate move to reignite an almost-extinguished issue. With the national government paralyzed, they had chosen their timing well.
The group had not sought permission, and police removed the statue: Private groups cannot simply establish monuments in public spaces. Then, Busan authorities reversed course and permitted it to be re-placed outside the consulate.
While the placement of further statues was not expressly forbidden in the December 2015 agreement, it is obviously in breach of its spirit. It is arguably also in breach of Article 22 of the 1961 Vienna Convention (which requires host states to prevent "impairment of the dignity" of foreign missions).
Faced with blatant provocation, Tokyo could have acted as they did with the non-removal of the statue outside their Seoul embassy: Use back channels to discuss, while remaining publically mum. Or, Tokyo could have maintained a dignified silence, before raising the issue with Korea's next administration.
Abe must know that, in Korea, public opinion, when it comes to emotive issues, has colossal force. He must also know that the country is mired in crisis, with the government headless. Yet he reacted publicly and furiously. He recalled his ambassador and halted currency swap talks.
With this response, Abe fell headlong into the civic group's ambush, and gave those who questioned his "insincerity" additional ammunition.
Naturally, the Korean establishment sided with the interest group. Media and politicians laid into Abe. Japan-bashing is back in vogue. The entire issue has flared up again.
The December 2015 agreement teeters on the brink. Antagonistic emotions ― both Korean (in action) and Japanese (in reaction) ― may scupper this promising deal.
This is bad news for Korea. At a time when China is unashamedly bullying Korea over THAAD, and when incoming President Donald Trump's Asia policy is far from clear, Korea needs friends. Japan ― a neighbor and fellow democracy which shares a very similar culture to Korea ― would be an ideal partner. That now looks impossible.
Between them, an interest group, Busan authorities and the Japanese prime minister have delinked Seoul-Tokyo relations from the future and re-shackled them to a highly contentious history. Lose-lose.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.
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