CW for Sexual Violence
The Japanese Military Sexual Slavery Issue, more commonly referred to in English as the “comfort women” issue, refers to the 200,000 women and girls who were forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese Imperial Army during the Asia Pacific War. A significant majority of these women and girls were Korean. Many were abducted: others were lured with false promises of work. They were incarcerated and shipped to “comfort stations” across the front lines, where they were subjected to systematic rape by Japanese soldiers (survivors have testified about sometimes being assaulted by 20 to 30 men in a single day).
After Japan’s defeat in 1945, many of the surviving women were killed or abandoned. Those who were able to return home did so burdened by severe physical and psychological trauma, in a world that too often did not show kindness to survivors of sexual violence, particularly colonial sexual violence. Their stories remained largely hidden until the late 1980s, and it was not until the Kim Hak-sun came forward publicly in 1991 that other women across Asia were empowered to come forward as well. In South Korea, 240 women would eventually register as survivors of the “comfort women” system. As of February 2022, only 12 of them are still with us.
In 1991, Kim Hak-sun said, “I wanted to protest to the Japanese people, ‘You say nothing like that happened, but I survived all that and am living evidence that it did.” Since the beginning of the “comfort women” movement, survivors and their supporters have focused on the Japanese government’s response: not only in terms of monetary reparations but in terms of acknowledgement of harm and the necessity of education and memorials documenting what happened. Over 30 years later, despite several changes in administration and a widely condemned “resolution” in 2015 between the South Korean and Japanese governments, survivors’ demands have not been met.
The Korean Council for the Women Drafted for Military Sexual Slavery (일본군성노예제문제해결을위한정의기억연대), more commonly referred to as the “Korean Council” is the leading nonprofit working on the Japanese Military Sexual Slavery Issue. The Korean Council was founded in 1990 by a coalition of 37 women’s rights groups in South Korea, and it was in part due to their calls-to-action that Kim Hak-sun first came forward and the survivor hotline was initially established.
In the decades since its founding, the work of the Korean Council has expanded, through initiatives such as the “Butterfly Fund” which supports survivors of wartime sexual violence around the world. However, the action that they are most known for, and the one that has continued largely uninterrupted since 1992, is the Wednesday Demonstration. The Wednesday Demonstration is the longest running single-issue protest in world history, and it is, in large part, what motivated me to apply for this grant.
The first Wednesday Demonstration was held on January 8, 1992, designed to coincide with a state visit by then-Japanese Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa. Survivors and their supporters showed up in front of the Japanese embassy in defiance of the Japanese government’s silence on the issue, taking up space and filling the area with their demands for justice. Those demands, as articulated by the Korean Council, have remained largely unchanged in the decades since:
(1) Admit the Japanese military sexual slavery system as a war crime.
(2) Disclose official documents.
(3) Deliver an official apology.
(4) Pay reparations to the victims.
(5) Punish those responsible.
(6) Record the sexual slavery system in history textbooks.
(7) Erect a memorial monument and build an archive.1
For the majority of the protest’s tenure, the structure of the protest has remained unchanged. Several shifts, however, have redefined the atmosphere of the space. One defining moment in the history of the movement was the installment of the 평화의 소녀상 (Statue of Peace) in 2011. The statue depicts a young girl, staring straight ahead, dressed in a chima jeogori. Since the statue’s installation, it has engendered passionate responses on both sides. For supporters of the halmoni,[need to define the term] the statute has emerged as a key rallying point and physical manifestation of what they are fighting for. This became especially important as years passed and more and more of the halmoni either passed away or were unable to attend every week: here was a symbol not only of their struggle, but of their humanity, and what had been taken from them. Supporters of the halmoni will often dress the statue in mittens and hats in the cold weather. On one particularly rainy day back in 2017, someone made sure she had a rain poncho.
Meanwhile, the Japanese government has repeatedly demanded that it be taken down, and has condemned similar statues that have been installed in cities around the world, at times going as far as to temporarily withdraw their ambassadors in protest. A growing anti-feminist, far-right movement in South Korea has also voiced opposition to the statue. Because of this, an organization of mostly young South Korean students has a rotating vigil over the statue, day and night, ensuring that no harm will come to her. As I saw during my most recent time in Seoul, unfortunately, their actions are not unwarranted.
2020 marked a difficult year in the history of the Korean Council. The reasons for this were two-fold. Both had a significant impact both on the movement and, on a micro scale, on the scope of my project and the direction it ended up taking. The first, and the most obvious, is the COVID-19 pandemic. In addition to the devastating physical, mental, and emotional impact of living through a global pandemic, the disease dramatically shaped the way all of us live our lives and, by extension, removed the possibility for safely gathering in a public place. What does the Wednesday Demonstration look like in a world where people, particularly the elderly, can’t safely gather? What would this mean for the movement, for the longevity of the protest, for the sanctity of the space itself?
The other, perhaps more complicated issue, surrounds allegations made against former Korean Council leadership for potential financial malpractice. The issue arose when one of the most vocal surviving halmoni, Lee Yong-soo, held a press conference in mid-2020 questioning the integrity of the organization and purported mismanagement of funds. This spiralled into an ongoing investigation which, although it has not resulted in any criminal convictions, significantly impacted public opinion towards the Korean Council and their related activities, the Wednesday Demonstration being one of them. Japanese and Korean right-wing groups, in particular, seized on the issue and, in the case of the Korean right-wing groups, began turning up to the Wednesday Demonstration in significant numbers, where they verbally and at times physically harass Wednesday Demonstration attendees, while also blasting often hateful and near-libelous propaganda against the halmonis that falls in line with standard denialist talking points. It is in within this context that I began my project in 2021.
Snapshot of a Movement: 2021
I came to South Korea in 2021 to study the intersection of feminist activism and the “comfort women” redress movement. What I found was that, but also so much more; namely, the ways in which social movements can and have adapted in response to the coronavirus pandemic. The question increasingly was: how do you have a successful weekly protest when people cannot gather? How do you fight for human rights for public health necessitates limitations on large gatherings? How do you hold powerful actors accountable in spite of these limitations? And, on a more positive note, how can you utilize technology in innovative ways to not only allow a movement to survive, but to thrive and expand their global presence.
In my opinion, the Korean Council more than rose to the occasion. This manifested both through changing conditions on the ground and for the introduction of a weekly livestream on YouTube. The livestream, in particular, was a product of the pandemic: prior to COVID-19, if you wanted to attend the protests, you needed to be in Seoul and be able to go in person. Now, you had people tuning in from all over the world to listen to speakers and support the halmonis. This was further facilitated by the use of English-language simultaneous translation and a live transcript, which not only made the event more accessible, it also broadened the scope of who was able to engage in real time.
For those who could attend in person, particularly in October/November once the restrictions began to lift, the general atmosphere was determined, particularly in the face of far-right counter protestors who often try to physically and verbally harass speakers.
At the same time, I was continuously impressed by the space that was made for joy and celebration, particularly through song and dance. Every Wednesday Demonstration is opened and closed by a dance to the song “Like a Rock,” usually performed by visiting members of the youth-led Peace Butterfly network. In the video below, other student activists dance, in defiance of the far-right counter protestors who surround them. It is essential to note that this is a multi-generational movement: many of these students were born after most of the halmonis (including Kim Hak-sun) had passed away. Yet they remain just as committed to ensuring that survivors and their families receive justice. It gives me hope not only for the movement but for the ongoing, building power of social justice movements across South Korean civil society.
As the number of living survivors dwindles, the halmonis’ fight for justice becomes even more urgent. It has been 30 years and we have yet to see meaningful concessions from the Japanese government to survivor demands. At the same time, however, there is an growing solidarity movement around the world, including in Japan, making ever greater calls for justice. Despite the best efforts of historical denialists, the halmonis truth shines through, and will continue to do so for as long as there are people who know and share their stories.
Kim Hak-sun halmoni. The woman who would not stay silent in the face of overwhelming odds against her. The woman who stood before her country and the world and shared the unspeakable truth of what had happened to her and so many like her. She was the first to speak - because of her bravery, she was not the last. We fight on in her name, in the name of Kim Bok-dong, of Lee Yong-soo, of the women whose names we will never know.
https://womenandwar.net/kr/history-of-the-movement/