‘We are May 18’

The May 18, 1980 Gwangju uprising against military dictatorship is a reminder that history is still incomplete

Amit Sengupta Gwangju (Republic of Korea)

There is a chill in the air and the flowers are blooming in orange, blue and vermilion-yellow on the beautiful, stunningly clean, pebbled, rain-washed, sunshine streets of Gwangju, the epical landmark of the great democratic uprising against military dictatorship in 1980. The city is celebrating, even as young couples walk through the inner lanes holding hands. There are banners everywhere, anticipations, tragic memories; there is the will to hope, to create new rainbows of democracy, justice and freedom.

There are old 'war-zone' landmarks, the sacred places of the dead, the missing and the murdered, the spontaneous students' protests at the Chonnam National University, the 'civilian army's' combat with the armed forces at the legendary Provincial City Hall which was captured by the people. May 18 is in the air. The Koreans call it simply: 5.18.

In down town Gwangju students are preparing for massive demonstrations, carnivals and traditional/revolutionary cultural shows. The market is overwhelmed with young people, girls and couples, schoolgirls in uniform, while food stalls in handcarts are happy with the crowds. At the Kenya Espresso coffee shop, a young history teacher sipping coffee with her school students, sums it up: “I am proud of the May 18 uprising. I was 12-year-old then, but I know that this change was necessary. Not much is mentioned in the textbooks, but I show videos, keep the memory alive,” says Kim Young Sin. Her student is not shy. “When I see the images of the massacre, tears flow down my eyes,” she says.

The May 18 Memorial Foundation is celebrating the 27th anniversary of the uprising, and the city is proud of it. Gwangju stands in world history as a city which knows how to preserve its precious memories and respect it, because the inhabitants are deeply aware that those, who inherit the fruits of democracy and then choose to forget the sacrifices of their rebels, are fated to be condemned. “South Korea is indebted to Gwangju,” says journalist Moon Tae Jeong.

That is why two Indians have been awarded the prestigious $50,000 Gwangju Prize for Human Rights this year: Irom Sharmila of Manipur, for her six-year-long fast against the repressive Armed Forces Special Powers Act, 1985; and Lenin Raghuvanshi of UP, for fighting child and bonded labour and untouchability in the Hindi heartland. Ironically, the organisers said, the Indian government refused to respond.

The Foundation building in the heart of the city is a sacred space. There are 135 delegates in the East Asia peace forum shaking hands, feminists, journalists and human rights activists from Philippines, Cambodia, Vietnam, Burma (exiled pro-democracy freedom fighters), Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, India, Bangladesh, Japan. Predictably, none from China or North Korea.

“We want a new Asian solidarity, a new vision for human rights in South Korea and Asia,” said Foundation Chairman Honggil Rhee. He was a 39-year-old history professor in 1980 who fully backed the movement and was suspended and jailed. “Korean people believed that military dictatorship under Chun-Doo-Hwan is not acceptable. Students and professors joined the struggle of the citizens. The killings started. They thought they could crush the movement for democracy and set an example. It back-fired because of the people's resilience. We learnt many things from the rising. We have to constantly fight to get and retain democracy. These were the highest form of sacrifices and we just can't afford to forget that,” he said.