Sunday, August 4, 2013

In which Emily gets political


My fellow Americans:

I've never been much of a patriot.
That's not to say I'm one of those flag-burning hooligans you see on the news. Rather, I think of myself (maybe a bit pretentiously) as a sedate cynic, someone whose heart does not melt fondly at the sight of the American flag; on the rare occasion I watch sports, I feel boredom rather than pride during the national anthem. There are parts of America I love. I love our friendliness and our open faces, our insistence on spelling "favorite" without a U, our geographically diverse stretch of the North American continent. So I certainly don't hate my country. But I don’t find it particularly inspiring, on the whole. So when I asked my students to provide stereotypes they associated with Americans, I found their answers (pictured below) not insulting, but rather amusing.


"Haha, well, you've got us there," I said, with my best teacherly chortle. "I mean, guns are pretty available in the US. Our diet is pretty terrible, and on average, we are overweight. We do like money, and meat. And I've heard that as a culture, Americans are pretty self-centered compared to, um, a lot of other cultures. But there are nice people in America. I promise."

Yes, you seem very nice, said my students. Do you own a gun?

"No!" I said. "Nonononono. And I don't think America is the best country in the world, either. But there are certainly people who do. And there are certainly people who, um, have guns."

Class continued pleasantly, with the usual friendly banter, and I thought little more of the topic of stereotype of Americans as imperialist gun-wielders. But I was forced to look straight at it when, on my sweaty walk to Seoul Tower, I encountered this:



This, my friend, is the Yongsan Garrison. It occupies roughly 620 acres in the middle of Seoul. And I don't use "middle" lightly. Here is a map of the metropolitan area of Seoul, made by yours truly with the help of Google Maps and WordArt. The city boundary is the black line, and the Yongsan Garrison is the red spot. Yes, that red spot.


Of course, this isn't perfect. I'm not a cartographer. But I attest that this map is basically accurate. And you will notice that the garrison is, in fact, smack dab in the middle of downtown Seoul. It is not tucked away in the outskirts. It stands, in all its glory of concrete and barbed wire, in the heart of one of the biggest cities in the world.

It isn't as if the Americans put it there in the first place. The Japanese started using it as a garrison in 1910, when they began their infamous occupation of Korea. At the time, Seoul was a wee bit smaller than its current 233 square miles, and the garrison was far outside of the city. But as you may have heard, since the Korean War, Seoul has expanded into the second-largest city in the world (by metro area). In the words of the ever-trusty Wikipedia, the city of Seoul "enveloped the Garrison."

So in a way, the US has just been making use of land that was already devoted to military activity. And perhaps its presence is justified, since North Korea's policy towards most of planet Earth is not exactly friendly.

But I will confess that my first reaction to the garrison was embarrassment.

Embarrassment? you ask. Why embarrassment?

Let me put it this way. Would the US allow Korea to have a giant concrete complex in the middle of New York City? Would the US allow ANY country, for that matter, to conduct any sort of military activity on American soil? No. But we are perfectly alright with having our own giant concrete complexes in the middle of foreign cities. And when you see a wall of concrete and barbed wire with signs proclaiming "US Property: No Trespassing" glued to it every thirty feet, do you think, "Hm. This 'US' country looks friendly enough"? No, you don't. The wall is clearly intended to stop people from entering. It is both a protective barrier and a demonstration of power, the capability to do violence.

And it is now no surprise to me that my students believe all Americans are violent self-absorbed gun-toting imperialist nationalists. Because that is, without a doubt, the image we are broadcasting. And maybe that image isn’t too far from the truth. America does have tendency to interfere in foreign affairs, sometimes violently. The fact that the US accounts for nearly 50% of the world's entire military spending doesn't help, either.

Do Seoulites find the Yongsan Garrison particularly offensive? I would guess no. At least, my students view it with ambivalence. It does not affect their ability to conduct healthy, ordinary lives, and it occupies very little of their thought space.

"It's just...there," said one of them. "We just live here, and it just lives here. But sometimes I think about it, a little. It's in the middle of everything. I mean everything. You can't get anywhere without having to get past it."

But no matter the intent behind it, you cannot deny that the Yongsan Garrison - and our countless other garrisons around the world - make us look like unfriendly, inconsiderate imperialists.

What is the solution to this problem? Don't ask me. My major is English, not political science. Maybe the Garrison does serve a purpose. Maybe, to create a sense of international security, America's mighty military power must be visible to all. And I can't deny that as a citizen of the US, I reap many of the benefits that come with such power. For example, I am endlessly lucky that my native language - English - is also the global language of power, which enables me to get by solely with my language in almost any country I visit. I also enjoy a feeling of safety, knowing that no matter where I am in the world, my country's military is never very far away.

And please don't think I'm ungrateful for all of the work that US soldiers have done, and continue to do. I thank every person who is willing to sacrifice their lives for their country's safety - in a way, for my safety.

But if you are an American, and you are traveling, and locals are less than welcoming, do not be surprised.

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