Art Elemento:

Fading Voices

March 28, 2012 | Culture

By Greg Laychak

Fading Voices started out as a straight-forward documentary project to explore a long contentious issue in East Asia. I’d gained access to the 11 remaining sexual slavery victim-survivors of colonial Japan in Kyeongsangbuk-do, and I wanted to tell their stories. But as I researched the topic and met with the women, I realized the story that interested me wasn’t the usual one most often splashed on headlines, or talked about in activist circles. The real story was about those media and activist organizations creating the public rhetoric themselves. Or, more specifically, how the women fit within those groups’ strategies, and in the larger Korean societal context.

These revelations helped shape the project as I met with and documented the women over the period of a year. My final edits for exhibitions turned into sad, empty collections with muted colors, no faces and symbolism instead of my usual journalistic style photos. In the end, I had a series of pictures that explored the themes of the women as they were living today: memory, theatre, disability, and death. I wanted to avoid previous works’ presentations of portraits and protest pictures, and instead convey the mood of the victim-survivors’ lives.

A history of the issue as it applies to my project: There is no doubt the mass recruitment of sexual labor across the Asian-Pacific was a war atrocity that should be apologized and compensated for. Recognized and debated since the early ‘90s, the issue’s only deniers are a small pocket of Japanese right-wingers still intent on making a resolution difficult.

However, I think Koreans have unintentionally contributed to the stall in reparations. In South Korea, there is only finger-pointing on a national scale when it comes to anything Japanese. Certainly the cause has made great gains: the Asian Women’s Fund; the adoption of laws that deem a Korean government passive on the issue constitutionally illegal; the pursuit of legal changes in the Japanese Diet; and significant international recognition.

One problem, though, is the 1965 treaty that was signed by both Korea and Japan. It leaves South Korea in a weak spot for negotiations with Japan, as the latter can argue that differences were settled over 50 years ago. Furthermore, POSCO and other fundamental infrastructure projects were built from this Japanese money, without the knowledge of the South Korean people. This was money originally intended to go to individuals who suffered under colonial rule as outlined in the treaty. At the time of the treaty, “comfort women” were not recognized by either nation as a subset of forced labor.

And that is why in my photo essay, there are no distinct faces, save one (Yi Yong Su who is aware of the politics and engages on her own terms). I feel that the women have never been fairly represented in their own country, or by their own country. As young, poor women, many were recruited by Korean collaborators or sold by their families. Upon returning from their horrible experiences as sexual slaves, they dared not speak of their roles in the Imperial Army for fear of shame dominating their daily lives. Even today, with a nationalist-activist machine huddled around the victim-survivors claiming to help them, their individual identities are lost in collective nationalist memory. A layered blend of seven portraits I took of the survivors represents this sad state.

An unfortunate mix of corruption, cultural factors and decades of undemocratic rule have stunted domestic reconciliation, which I believe makes it hard for South Koreans to squeeze a satisfactory apology from the Japanese government. Remnants of gender roles and biases half a century old that helped create the organization of large scale sexual slavery can still be seen in modern South Korea.

The South Korean media isn’t helping create any progress in pointing out the history of Korean involvement. While a committee formed under Roh Moo-Hyun somewhat successfully repossessed pro-Japanese collaborator property from descendants, popular news sources instead focus on the protests of the victim-survivors and activists in front of the Japanese embassy. These stories have become media ritual, with hordes of photojournalists and TV crews surrounding the patient women on anniversaries and national holidays. Viewers are inundated with the idea that blaming Japan is more important than dealing with Korea’s own history of involvement.

And despite claims from many Korean columnists that successful chaebol companies caught their break with later economic reforms (instead of by collaborating) the truth is 60 percent of the existing capitalist class continued to operate after the transition from Japanese power. Syngman Rhee and other implicated officials stopped attempts to investigate pro-Japan culprits soon after they started in 1948. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end for internal recognition and reparations.

If South Korea is to set an example for Japan, they have to stop playing the victim card, recognizing and emphasizing their own historic roles in the problem. Otherwise, the current shouting match of blame will go on indefinitely.

Tags: April, Greg Laychak