University of Hawai'i Press

On December 5, 2014, right before takeoff from John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York City, Korean Air Flight 86 suddenly taxied back to its gate. Leaving chief crewmember Pak Ch'ang-jin1 behind, it then departed for the Incheon International Airport in South Korea. Commonly referred to in Korea as the "ttangk'ong hoehang sakŏn" [nut-fly-back incident], it resulted from a temper tantrum by Cho Hyŏn-a (Heather Cho), vice president of Korean Air and the oldest daughter of its CEO, Cho Yang-ho. Because macadamia nuts were served to her in a bag instead of on a plate, she became furious with the flight attendant, accusing her of not following the in-flight service manual correctly. Though she soon learned that she had been wrong about how the nuts should be served, Cho blamed Pak—the team leader for the entire crew—for not providing her immediately with the manual and therefore causing her trouble. She then ordered Pak off the plane.

In early 2009, five years before the Korean Air incident, actor Chang Cha-yeŏn committed suicide at the age of twenty-seven. She had been suffering from severe depression for some time, largely because of abuse by Kim Chong-sŭng (also known as Kim Sŏng-hun or Jason Kim), the CEO of her entertainment management agency. Kim often had Chang entertain his male acquaintances or business partners, ordered her to have sexual relations with some of them, and beat her when she rejected his requests or for other unknown reasons. At Kim's birthday party in August 2008, Chang was also reportedly sexually harassed by Chosŏn ilbo journalist Cho Hŭi-ch'an. Despite the horrific crimes by Kim, journalist Cho, and several other men, which in all probability led to Chang's suicide, Kim was sentenced to only four months in prison and one year of probation. Cho and the remaining suspects were released, due to insufficient evidence.

Pak's forced removal from the flight and Chang's suicide resulted from kapchil culture in South Korea, which stems from the unequal relationship between the privileged and the "other." Borrowed from a contractual term, kap indicates an individual or group who has the upper hand over the disadvantaged ŭl in society, and [End Page 114] chil is a derogatory word for bad conduct. Kapchil therefore refers to the offensive behavior of those with economic, social, and/or political power toward the less privileged. As an employee, and as a lesser-known actor, Pak and Chang were the ŭl, and therefore vulnerable due to their unequal relationship with their superiors. As a woman, Chang was especially susceptible to Kim's abuse in Korea's male-dominant culture. Though occurring less frequently in recent years, women are often treated as objects in workplaces and can be ordered to entertain their male associates, superiors, or business partners.

Life writing published in South Korea from 2018 to 2019 displays the varying ways that people present their own stories and/or those of others. Chosain ŭiro salda: Pak Mu-ik hoegorok (2018), Irŏk'e sarado twae (2019), and Usŏn Kim Myŏng-jun chasŏjŏn (2019) record the writers' personal and/or professional achievements during their careers. In Yi Myŏng-ok hoegorok: Nae ga kiŏk hanŭn abŏji wa na (2018), Yi weaves together stories of her father and herself, foregrounding their father-daughter relationship. Pak Mang-nye, idaero chukŭl sun ŏptta (2019) is a collaborative work, in which Pak Mang-nye2—who was diagnosed with dementia—and her granddaughter document their adventures when visiting several parts of the world, including Australia, Japan, France, and the US. All of these works testify to the wide range of Korean life narratives operating on a personal level.

Works such as Pak Ch'ang-jin's P'ŭllai paek: kapchil ro ŏgŭnnan sam ŭi kwedo rŭl paro chapta (2019) and Yun Chi-o's 13-bŏntchae chŭngŏn: 2009-nyŏn 3-wŏl 7-il (2019), however, not only reveal how the less privileged are victimized, but also show how life writers tell their stories to challenge the kap in South Korea. Pak's memoir describes his victimization by Korean Air and the CEO's family resulting from the 2014 incident. One of Chang's colleagues at Kim's management agency, Yun, documents Kim's exploitation of Chang, and journalist Cho's sexual harassment of her at Kim's party. By presenting their own stories or those of others wronged in Korean society, Pak and Yun disclose how the disadvantaged such as themselves have been abused by the privileged, and ask their readers to judge their cases—examples of Leigh Gilmore's notion of autobiographical representation as an "alternative jurisdiction" (715), where unrestrained by legal protocols, individuals can speak for themselves and the vulnerable.

I will first examine how Pak's P'ŭllai paek and Yun's 13-bŏntchae chŭngŏn represent the vulnerabilities and social injustices experienced by less privileged subjects in Korea. Then I will discuss the vulnerabilities of life writing itself, as shown by the controversies over Yun's testimony and their ramifications. Since the publication of her book, Yun has been accused of being a false witness, of taking advantage of Chang's case for monetary gain, and of trying to increase her own popularity. By showing how such disputes can undermine effforts to seek social justice for the victimized, this essay foregrounds the challenges that life writing can face when it intends to help victims, but provokes a backlash that questions its honesty, and therefore undermines the significant advocacy role such stories can play. [End Page 115]

Victimization of the Disadvantaged

Pak's P'ŭllai paek focuses on the inappropriate actions of the Korean Air Corporation and the Cho family, and his resulting suffering. Immediately after the 2014 incident—which attracted great public attention—the company, at the direction of its CEO, tried to force him to lie about the events before the plane's departure. He was ordered to write a false statement that denied allegations that Vice President Cho Hyŏn-a swore and was violent, and was responsible for forcing him to leave the plane. Although initially submitting to the Korean Air CEO's demands—which Pak did for the sake of the company—when he realized he was being framed as the actual offender in the incident, he described Cho's misconduct and how the company attempted to cover it up. His revelations about what happened on board the flight led to public outrage directed at Cho Hyŏn-a, which forced her father to dismiss her from the position of vice president of Korean Air.

If Pak's resistance preserved his dignity as a human being, signaling a transition from internalized "chabalchŏk noye" [voluntary slave] (11) to awakened worker, it also led to his further mistreatment by his employer. After revealing the vice president's misconduct, Pak was demoted from flight team leader to crewmember, returning him to the more menial duties of a new recruit. Devastated by Korean Air's harassment, including through lawsuits, he soon discovered the legal system "ch'ŏlchŏhi kangja ŭi ipchang ŭl taebyŏn hanŭn" [represents the stance of the advantaged only] (237) rather than that of the victim. Pak developed a panic disorder, and a benign brain tumor quickly grew large due to intense stress and anxiety.

Pak's revelation through self-representation of his mistreatment by Korean Air executives violates Korea's kapchil culture, which teaches the disadvantaged to endure social injustice and what accompanies it. His book also positions readers as ethical subjects who serve almost as an appellate court, judging Pak's treatment in the legal system. When recounting the court ruling that ordered him to pay 90 percent of the costs of lawsuits even though he was determined to be the victim, Pak assures readers

nan ap ŭirodo kyesok ssaul saenggak ida. Yŏjŏhi modŏn kye kahaeja chungsim ŭiro tola kago itchiman, kŭrŏk'i ttaemune tŏ tŏuk ch'aenyŏmhan ch'e kamanhi anja issŭl su ŏpta.

(238)

[I am going to keep fighting. Everything still privileges the offender, and because of that, I cannot give up and do nothing.]

Determined to defend his human rights as a worker, he also hopes that the

na ŭi chonŏm ŭl wihan t'ujaeng i nu'gun ka ŭi maŭm e pulssi rŭl irŭk'yŏ chagŭn ullim ŭl mandŭrŏ nael su itgi rŭl. … Na wa kat'un saramdŭl ŭi oech'im i kyesok haesŏ ullyŏ p'ŏjida pomyŏn. … Chogŭm tŏ naŭn saesang i ol kanŭngsŏng i k'ŏjinda go minnŭnda.

(245) [End Page 116]

[fights to preserve my dignity will inspire and resonate with someone. … If the call from people like me continues to spread … I believe that a better world will likely come.]

If the verdict in the lawsuits seem unjust to readers, then Pak's accounts of victimization and resistance may provide encouragement for people to fight together against such social injustices and for the victimized.

Published in early March of 2019, Yun's 13-bŏntchae chŭngŏn appeared when the South Korean sociopolitical feminist #MeToo movement was demanding necessary changes to male-dominated culture in homes, workplaces, institutions, and organizations. In late January 2018, female prosecutor Sŏ Chi-hyŏn revealed on television her past experiences of sexual harassment by her senior prosecutors.3 Spurred by Sŏ's testimony, women from various walks of life spoke up about their own experiences of sexual violence, accusing many well-known men, including actors, literary figures, movie directors, and politicians. The call for sociocultural change led to more than 200,000 Korean citizens signing a petition demanding that the government reinvestigate the Chang case. Many people dissatisfied with the previous ruling that found journalist Cho not guilty of sexual misconduct were now raising questions. Thanks in part to the influence of #MeToo, reinvestigations and retrials began ten years after Chang's suicide.

With the trials scheduled for August 2019, Yun's book offered personal testimony about Cho's harassment and Chang's victimization. Though previously an anonymous witness, Yun now reveals her identity, claiming that the book is "a record of truth for Chang and me" (7). Yun describes in detail how Chang became the object of Cho's harassment at Kim's party, and how she could neither confront Cho nor leave the place because of the possible consequences, including Kim physically abusing her for not entertaining his guest, or other kinds of violence provoked by her resistance. Yun also writes that she saw several pages of a list Chang compiled of forty-to-fifty individuals whom she was forced to serve and entertain, though to date it has not been confirmed that Chang wrote it herself, or even if it existed. By bearing witness to Cho's wrongdoing and this list, Yun underscores Chang's vulnerability as an emerging female actor to the unequal relationships prevalent in the male-dominated entertainment industry.

In addition to speaking out in support of Chang and defending herself as a reliable witness, Yun represents herself as a victim of kapchil culture. When testifying at the earlier trials, Yun was still pursuing her own dream of becoming a famous entertainer. But when others in the industry learned about her participation in the trials, they saw her as undesirable and damaging to their projects, and Yun found herself "almost expelled from show business" (6). She also became traumatized by the constant and excessive police interrogations, and by her sense of guilt at not being able to keep Chang from committing suicide. Yun was even further distressed by the request for a sexual relationship from an entertainment management agency CEO. She rejected his obscene proposition, but she could not overcome the stress [End Page 117] or her dismal prospects. Finally, she gave up on her dream and left Korea to join her family in Canada.4 Yun's departure confirms her own victimization due to Chang's trials and the continuing patriarchal nature of the entertainment industry.

Vulnerabilities of Life Writing

While Pak's P'ŭllai paek and Yun's 13-bŏntchae chŭngŏn show how they and the deceased Chang have experienced the victimhood of the disadvantaged in Korea, the controversies over Yun's testimony also reveal the vulnerabilities of life writing as a witness narrative. When the court testimony began creating public sympathy for both Chang and Yun, journalist and writer Kim Su-min, who had worked closely with Yun on her book, accused her of lying, and of using Chang to benefit herself by gaining popularity. Kim claimed that Yun had not in fact seen Chang's list, and on her Instagram in late April of 2019, described previous conversations that called into question Yun's ethics by saying she was hoping to satisfy her self-interest and professional desires through the testimony. During the time she was promoting her published account of her role as witness and as victim herself, Yun revealed intimidating communications she was receiving—such as threats of car accidents—for returning to Korea to testify at Chang's retrials. This led to the creation of a fund to put Yun under witness protection. Some accounts claim she has collected more than $8 million to date, but Yun has refused to reveal the exact amount, or where and how she has spent the funds.5 And in response to the doubts raised about her reliability, Yun has sued Kim for defamation and false accusation.

Controversies over testimony's truthfulness do not just undermine the witness's reputation and veracity, but life writing more generally as a practice advocating for social justice for the victimized. As long as the debates between Kim and Yun continue, they threaten to discredit Yun's claims about Cho's sexual harassment, not only freeing him from responsibility, but contributing to subjecting Chang once more to treatment as being a sexual, vulnerable object. As Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson note, "exposés of hoaxing and allegations of false witnessing in narratives of suffering do harm" (591); and questions publicly raised about Yun's credibility have led to distrust, and thereby damaged the value of the testimony as proof of Chang's victimization. Also, by focusing attention on Yun as witness, or on Kim as an ethical journalist, rather than on the victim, the public debate drifted away from the major issues that led to Chang's retrials—the recognition of her victimhood, and the overdue need to punish journalist Cho. Then, in the midst of the battles between accusers and accused, on August 22, 2019 the case against Cho was dismissed again for lack of evidence, and because of the amount of time that had passed, the statute of limitations ended the possibility of any further retrial. The opportunity to overturn the earlier court ruling in favor of the victim was therefore frustrated by the same system that had come to the earlier decision. [End Page 118]

________

Pak's P'ŭllai paek and Yun's 13-bŏntchae chŭngŏn are examples of how life writing has been turned to as a means to empower the victimized in the kapchil and male-dominant culture of South Korea. Pak's memoir exposes the wrongdoing of the CEO family at Korean Air, the unfair relationship between that family and himself, and the resulting psychological and physical hardships for the victim. Yun's book describes how Chang, because of her hierarchical and patriarchal relationship with CEO Kim, was not only ill-treated by him, but presumably molested by journalist Cho. By revealing their own victimization, and by extension that of others at the hands of the legal system as well as the abusers, these life stories call on readers to correct these social wrongs by issuing a fair judgment, and acting on it.

But the disputes over Yun's testimony show how life writing by socially vulnerable Korean subjects may have unavoidable and damaging consequences for the victimized. Though the journalist Kim's revelations do raise issues about Yun's self-interest in promoting Chang's case, reminding us once more about the moral issues always raised by life writing and its practitioners, simply raising these questions contaminates the value of testimony pointing to Chang's victimization. In the process, the call to practice social justice for victims of kapchil gets muted, or silenced. And yet, while telling stories of victimhood may not be able to undo what has already been done to the wronged, the act still offers some hope for others in Korean society who continue to fight for social justice, and to expose and seek to end the effects of kapchil on the disadvantaged.

Heui-Yung Park

Heui-Yung Park is an assistant professor of English at Kyungil University in South Korea. She has published Korean and Korean American Life Writing in Hawai'i: From the Land of the Morning Calm to Hawai'i Nei (Lexington Books, 2016) and a few scholarly articles in The Journal of English Language and Literature, Journal of American Studies, and Journal of English Studies in Korea. Her areas of research interests include life writing studies, diaspora studies, Asian American literature—including Korean American literature—and Korean literature.

Notes

1. The arrangement of the names follows the Korean custom, in which the last name comes before the first name.

2. Pak Mang-nye and her granddaughter, Kim Yu-ra, created "Korea Grandma" on YouTube in January 2017, which now has more than one million subscribers. Because of Pak's popularity, she met YouTube CEO Susan Wojcicki in 2018 and Google CEO Sundar Pichai in 2019.

3. Sŏ Chi-hyŏn's interview was broadcast live on January 31, 2018 on a Joongang Tongyang Broadcasting Company (JTBC) TV news show.

4. Yun's family had emigrated to Canada when she was about thirteen years old. A few years later, she returned to Korea to become an actor, where she met Chang through Kim's entertainment agency.

5. Subsequently, the TV series Kunggŭmhan Iyagi Y on the Seoul Broadcasting System (SBS) pursued Yun's case, doubting her credibility as a witness and the whereabouts of the fund ("Chang Cha-yŏn"). According to Chang's boyfriend, Yun and Chang were not as close as described in Yun's narrative, and Yun could not have known much about Chang's personal issues with the CEO, including his habitual beatings. Consequently, many donors to the fund have sued her for the return of their donations.

Works Cited

"Chang Cha-yŏn sakŏn ŭi chŭngŏnja Yun Chi-o, kŭnyŏ rŭl tulŏ ssan nollan ŭi chinsil ŭn?" Kunggŭmhan Iyagi Y. Seoul Broadcasting System (SBS), Seoul, 21 June 2019.
Gilmore, Leigh. "Jurisdictions: I, Rigoberta Menchú, The Kiss, and Scandalous Self-Representation in the Age of Memoir and Trauma." Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, vol. 28, no. 2, 2003, pp. 695–718.
———. Tainted Witness: Why We Doubt What Women Say About Their Lives. Columbia UP, 2019.
Kim, Myŏng-jun. Usŏn Kim Myŏng-jun chasŏjŏn. Saeroun saramdŭl, 2019.
Pak, Ch'ang-jin. P'ŭllai paek: kapchil ro ŏgŭnnan sam ŭi kwedo rŭl paro chapta. Medich'i midiŏ, 2019.
Pak, Ch'ŏl-hyŏn. Irŏk'e sarado twae. Habilisŭ, 2019.
Pak, Mang-nye, and Yu-ra Kim. Pak Mang-nye, idaero chukŭl sun ŏptta. Wijŭdŭm hausŭ, 2019.
Pak, Mu-il. Chosain ŭiro salda: Pak Mu-ik hoegorok. Hanguk kaellŏp chosa yŏn'guso, 2018.
Smith, Sidonie, and Julia Watson. "Witness or False Witness?: Metrics of Authenticity, Collective I-Formations, and the Ethic of Verification in First-Person Testimony." Biography: An Interdisciplinary Quarterly, vol. 35, no. 4, 2012, pp. 590–626.
Yi, Myŏng-ok, and Tonghun Kim. Yi Myŏng-ok hoegorok: Nae ga kiŏk hanŭn abŏji wa na. Maeil ŭi kibun, 2018.
Yun, Chi-o. 13-bŏntchae chŭngŏn: 2009-nyŏn 3-wŏl 7-il. Kayŏn, 2019.

Share