Punks, not politicians

By Jon Dunbar

When Trump got elected, many speculated this would "make punk music great again." But what does that mean for Korea, which deposed an unpopular authoritarian president and replaced her with a liberal human rights lawyer?

Not just punk, but all music is political ― even lack of politics has political implications. Musicians influenced by politics can express societal problems, or they can endorse political candidates.

When the indie band Daybreak performed for Moon Jae-in's inauguration, it came as no shock. After all, only months earlier, Korean musicians of all genres (with the notable exception of K-pop idol groups) performed in the streets calling for Park Geun-hye's impeachment.

It should come as no surprise that musicians skew left, with a few glaring exceptions. The end of conservative rule here is good for all musicians: The past two conservative administrations were the enemy of free expression. But should celebrating the fall of one bad regime necessarily lead to celebrating the rise of the next?

I recall back in 2005, when Moon's mentor Roh Moo-hyun was in power and then-Seoul Mayor Lee Myung-bak was angling for a presidential run. After a scandal surrounding the punk band Rux, MBC showcase "Music Camp" and nationwide televised full-frontal nudity, Lee remarked there should be a blacklist of musicians. Korea's indie musicians accused him of having a Yushin mindset, referring to Park Chung-hee's 1972 Constitution that installed Park as president for life, during which he cracked down on nonconformist musicians and brought Korea's music industry under government control.

Sickeningly, two years later when Lee began his presidential campaign, the punk band No Brain gave him the rights to their hit song translated as "You've Got a Crush on Me," whose lyrics were reworked to "This Time Lee Myung-bak." It and many other parody songs are still available on YouTube. No Brain never endorsed him, but likely didn't turn down a handsome payoff.

Lee won the election in December 2007, serving as president from 2008 to 2013. And during that time, I have no doubt he encouraged and engaged in such prejudicial practices to bring many artistic industries under government control, music included.

Just weeks before the 2011 Korean Music Awards (KMA) ceremony, the country's most legitimate music awards, the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism pulled funding. Apparently the KMA president, Kim Chang-nam, made statements the government couldn't tolerate. The ministry timed its withdrawal to maximize damage, and the show only went on because of last-minute private sector support. Such a frivolous tactic is more befitting North, not South, Korea.

A year later President Lee threw one of my friends in jail for supposedly violating the National Security Act. Park Jung-geun was owner of a photo studio, and also ran the hardcore punk label Bissantrophy Records. His crime? Posting jokes on Twitter parodying North Korean propaganda. He spent two months behind bars in early 2012. The courts and politicians likely didn't see a small business owner or a cultural creator, certainly not even an enemy of the state, just a young idealist they could push around.

Lee was known for stepping up enforcement of the National Security Act, and I had hoped the impending presidential campaign for Lee's successor would urge leniency for my friend, lest it make the government appear autocratic and humorless.

But he was found guilty in November 2012, and just one month later, Park Geun-hye beat Moon Jae-in, becoming Korea's next president and giving us almost five more years of misery.

The government learned its lesson under Park's dad, during which the junior Park served as de facto first lady, how to regulate and suppress artists, lest one of them gets the platform to speak out against tyranny.

Over the mid-1970s, politically radical musicians faced government persecution and blacklisting, leading to the gradual castration of the music industry. Park's legacy endured because the average quality of life increased during his term, and enough people ignored his human rights violations against a small artistic minority because it didn't affect them directly.

More recently, several government blacklists have been revealed and the existence of more is inferred.

Where we are now is likely the result of decades of industry blacklisting, as well as whitelisting tactics. It grew this way under supposed free market principles, while in reality was backed by heavy subsidies.

In 2013 the government allocated 319 billion won to promote the spread of Korean pop culture, including K-pop entertainment companies as recipients. If you wonder what a heavily regulated music industry looks like, take a look at modern-day K-pop, an industry that sidesteps political thought and encourages establishment ideals such as conformity and passive consumer capitalism.

Last year, Korea finally awoke from a long slumber. President Moon has already unearthed many "deep-rooted evils," and blacklists no longer suppress the country's most creative citizens. To many in the music community, long aware of these government moves but lacking hard evidence, this has been vindication.

But these musicians can't forget, many of the people who in outrage voted out the conservatives are the same ones who 10 years ago ignored the warning signs and elected Lee Myung-bak, and five years ago ignored more warning signs and elected Park Geun-hye, and these people still represent the majority.

The reason punk is said to thrive under conservative governments is because it's easier to awaken the people to injustice, than to encourage long-term vigilance against threats to democracy and freedom.

Jon Dunbar is a copyeditor of The Korea Times. Contact him at jdunbar@ktimes.com.