Prison Narratives: The Year in South Korea

One of the most significant roles that life narratives have played in South Korea has been giving voice to those who have suffered social injustice and want to be heard. Lifewriting texts often serve as trial sites outside the legal systems, where writers can tell their stories to the reader without judicial authority being present. In their prison narratives, Im Pang-gyu¹ and Ch'oe Sŏ-wŏn² both turn to autobiographical representation beyond the jurisdiction of the court to present their cases in public and to disclose the injustice that they believe they have suffered.

This year's essay examines how Im's Pijŏnhyang changgisu Im Pang-gyu chasŏjŏn (2019) and Ch'oe's Na nŭn nugu in'ga: Ch'oe Sŏ-wŏn okchung hoeogi (2020) defend their writers, and try to convince others of their innocence. Im was a pro-North prisoner for more than thirty years who rejected conversion to democracy following his imprisonment during the Korean War (1950–1953). His autobiography describes how he became a ppalch'isan—a communist guerrilla—who fought against the Korean military and its allies during the war. Ch'oe, on the other hand, was accused of manipulating state affairs during the presidency of Park Geun-hye, the eighteenth president of South Korea. Telling her own story in the form of a memoir, she denies all such accusations.

Im's and Ch'oe's prison narratives—in which each makes a case for themselves—show how recently published South Korean life writing has spoken for those who feel they have been mistreated, offering "a forum of judgment in which the subject may achieve a control over [their] story that [they] would not hold in court" (Gilmore 696). Outside the judicial system, Im's and Ch'oe's autobiographical representations enable them to speak for themselves, presenting their own stories that differ from what others assume they know. In so doing, their life narratives turn into alternative venues for telling the truth about themselves and seeking out justice.

Examining these narratives, however, should also remind us of Paul John Eakin's proposal "to think of ethics as the deep subject of autobiographical discourse" ("Introduction" 6). Im's Pijŏnhyang changgisu works to correct the stereotypical, negative views of unconverted communist prisoners—most of whom have suffered long-term imprisonment and state violence—and addresses the ethics of these laws. But Ch'oe's also raises questions about the amount of truth in the information provided to the public, and can therefore lead us to think about the ethical responsibilities of the autobiographer, and especially when demanding justice. Looking into these prison narratives sheds light on the empowering roles that life writing can offer these prisoners, and more generally, on the ethics of writing one's own life story.

Unconverted Long-term Prisoners: National Heroes or Enemies?

Pijŏnhyang changgisu (unconverted long-term prisoners in Korea) refers to those who have been imprisoned for an extensive period (the majority for more than thirty years) for maintaining their socialist ideology, or for participating in communist activities in South Korea since the 1945 liberation of the country. Im Pang-gyu was a communist imprisoned for twenty years (1952–1972) for his participation in a communist guerrilla unit. Five years after his release, he was reimprisoned without trial because he had refused to convert to democracy. While serving an additional twelve years (1977–1989), Im and other unconverted inmates were exposed to so-called conversion "maneuvering" imposed by the state in the form of physical abuse.

Published years after Im's 1989 release, Pijŏnhyang changgisu Im Pang-gyu chasŏjŏn reveals the unfair treatment long-term prisoners like Im experienced, and also tries to change defamatory preconceptions about them by presenting their life stories. In South Korea, ppalch'isan and those with communist ideologies have aroused fear and hatred among people influenced by Cold War, anti-communist ideology. The still-famous story of nine-year-old Yi Sŭng-bok—reportedly killed in 1968 by armed North spies because he shouted "I...