Jeju Women’s History

[My article, reprinted from Jeju Weekly. Photos added.]

A Look at Jeju Women’s Lives Throughout Time

The history of Jeju women’s culture

Part 1 of a 2-part series

The history of the “strong Jeju women” is significant to understanding the women’s society of today.

At the core of Jeju women’s culture is the island’s mythology, beginning with a goddess-oriented creation myth and including multiple other goddesses. The longstanding shamanic religious tradition, of particular importance to women and including many female shamans, supports this mythology.

A two-volume book series on the topic of Jeju women’s history has been published online by the Jeju Development Institute (JDI) under the guidance of its president, Yang Young-oh. Following extensive research involving multiple scholars, together the books constitute more than 1,500 pages, with volume I addressing pre-Joseon era to 1910 and volume II covering 1910 to 1945.

Moon Soon Deok, senior researcher at JDI and an expert on Jeju women’s culture, led a 23-member research team for the second volume which was published earlier this year.

Several key events throughout history have contributed to the constitution of Jeju women’s society.

For more than a hundred years around the time of the 12th century, Mongolian troops occupied this island. According to historian and mythologist Kim Soonie, Jeju representative of the Cultural Heritage Administration, this was actually favorable to Jeju women as the Mongolians viewed women in a relatively egalitarian manner. During this time, a majority of Jeju women participated in the labor force and even learned to ride horses according to Mongolian custom, for example.

Confucianism became the guiding social system of the mainland under the Joseon dynasty (1392-1910), and was introduced to Jeju as well. It took hold primarily in the farming and mid-mountain villages where political exiles and other mainlanders typically settled, but was largely ignored by the coastal communities. The diving women, long devotees of the island’s shamanic traditions, rejected Confucianism’s hierarchical and male-centered ideals.

This resulted in two nearly distinct women’s cultures, according to scholar and author Han Rimhwa, in that women of the inland villages, with their newly adopted Confucian ideals, viewed the free and independent ways of the coastal women as “low-class” and “vulgar” behavior. These inner and outer regions seldom permitted intermarriage and had little to do with one another beyond trade of goods, according to Han.

For 200 years during this time, the people of Jeju were not permitted to leave the island. Scholars Moon, Kim, and Han all cite this period as particularly significant regarding the changes it brought to Jeju society, especially to its women.

A number of local women became common-law wives to the political exiles who were banished to the island. It was a source of pride, according to Kim, to bear a son who was the first to bring a new name – a new family line and registry – to Jeju.

“When the exile husbands returned to their original lives – and wives,” Kim described, “the Jeju women remained here with their families and community.” There was no stigma against them, and they were free to remarry – or not, as they chose, their children were typically supported by their absent father. A certain number of these exiles chose to remain on Jeju Island with their new families.

Several notable women emerged from this era, in particular the legendary entrepreneur and philanthropist of the 18th century, Kim Man Deok. As early as the 16th century, the renown of “medical women” Jangdeok and Gwigeum of Jeju reached the royal court. The “yeachong” were women who served in the military during the time of the Joseon dynasty.

Following this era came the period of Japanese colonization which, according to Kim, was also favorable to female workers as the Japanese included women equally in the labor force. However, according to Moon, there was “not much work for women” during this time due to various restrictions, and many women went to Japan to work in factories – and some as “hostesses” in bars and the equivalent. Many also ran “cottage industries” or home-based businesses organized by the Japanese during this time.

There are no documented “comfort women” from Jeju, those forced into sexual service to the Japanese troops, as can be identified on the mainland. However, there is speculation among many scholars, including Moon, Kim, and Han, that this was inevitably the case but that, as Jeju is a very small society, none have ever reported it in order to avoid the shame it would bring upon their families.

Notable women of this time, featured in the small museum at the Seolmundae Women’s Center, include Kang Pyung Guk, an educator and advocate for women’s rights; Choi Jeong Sook, first female superintendent of the Jeju education authority; Kim Shi Sook, leader of the independence movement on Jeju; and, Koh Su Seon, Jeju’s first female physician, among others.

Part 2 of a 2-part series

The women of Jeju are notoriously strong of body and mind – and will. Often considered “natural feminists” by scholars from the mainland and elsewhere, there is no denying that Jeju is historically an egalitarian and matrifocal culture in which women have been at the center of their homes and communities, and a driving economic force.

Is strength of character woven into the Jeju woman’s DNA? Is the famed “Strong Jeju Woman” born – or made?

The era known as “Sasam” or “4.3” followed the Japanese colonial period, a time of political unrest throughout Korea which resulted in violent anti-Communist crackdowns by the military and police forces and counter-rebellions by citizens, with the ultimate demise of up to one-tenth of Jeju’s population.

According to scholar and author Han Rimhwa and many others, the women’s experience of this time represents a multi-layered tragedy.

“Men and boys were typically the target of execution,” Han reported, “and the women had to bear not only the terror and hardship of that time but the loss of their husbands and sons as well.”

She elaborated, “Women were often raped, and many offered themselves sexually in trade for their family members’ lives. One woman I interviewed told me, ‘at that time, I wanted to kill myself – but I lived, for the sake of my family.’”

Han further recounted that many women went to the mainland or to Japan as refugees during this time, following the deaths of their loved ones, in a vain attempt to escape the violence and sorrow they had experienced. “They couldn’t forget the images, though,” she said, “and some committed suicide as a result.”

Historian and mythologist Kim Soonie, Jeju representative of the Cultural Heritage Administration, reported that women often volunteered for duty in the navy during this time, in a belief that this display of nationalism would protect their family members by counteracting any accusations of “communist” or “insurgent” which were being applied, often arbitrarily, to the people of Jeju.

In this modern era, much has changed for Jeju women.

Sudden change came to the community structure of Jeju Island in the 1970s, according to Han and others, due to the central government’s “Saemaeul” or New Villages economic movement as well as the advent of television and other media.

Highways began to crisscross the island, bringing increased mobility and interaction between regions, and tourism became a major industry on Jeju during that time.

Today’s women are more highly educated and professionally oriented than their ancestors. The haenyeo and farming women’s communities have shrunk considerably, and a majority of Jeju citizens, including women, live in the capital city – or off the island.

In this modern era, when traditions are rapidly disappearing and the definition of community and women’s roles are undergoing great change, identity has become the critical issue.

“Jeju women need enlightenment in order to improve Jeju,” Kim said. “We are selling our souls for tourism and money – but there’s more than this. We need soul healing,” she expressed.

“Young Jeju women are strong, but less so than their ancestors,” Moon opined, stating that she felt upset by this.

“What does it mean to be a Jeju woman today?” Han mused. “We have a new identity now – but we don’t know what it is. We need to rebuild Jeju women’s society – and take care of each other.”

Shamanism as Folk Psychology

[My article, reprinted from Jeju Weekly]

Jeju Shamans, Healing Minds and Hearts

Shamanism as Folk Psychology

Part One of a 2-part Series.

Three mourners sat before the shaman as she placed her hand over each one’s heart in turn, pounded on their upper backs, blew air onto the crown of each head, and draped a cloth dipped in sacred water over their shoulders, all the while chanting a story of consolation.

They were the ones who had discovered the body of their drowned colleague and friend, and who now sat before the presiding shaman, Suh Sun Sil, at the funeral ritual. Suh, in a rite universal to all such traditions across the globe according to philosopher and shamanism expert Mircea Eliade, was helping them to retrieve the part of their souls that had been lost as a result of their shocking experience.

Earlier that day, words of consolation from the deceased woman to her colleagues, her haenyeo (female diver) sisters, poured from the mouth of Suh as she became a conduit between the living and the dead. In the early evening, Suh and three other shamans would accompany the husband and haenyeo sister-in-law of the deceased to the nearby shore where her body had been recovered, in order to call her spirit from its watery grave and give offerings to the Dragon King and water spirits in return.

▲ Shaman Suh Sun Sil performing memorial ritual for ‘keun-simbang’ (Grand Shaman) Lee Jung Chun. Photo by Hong Sunyoung.

On the second of the two-day ritual, Suh simbang (shaman, in Jeju dialect) would provide an elaborate rite to console the spirit of the dead woman and, in the role of psychopomp, usher her to the Otherworld.

In addition to soul loss and retrieval, universal themes of shamanic traditions according to Eliade include altered states of consciousness, travel by the shaman and spirits between material and immaterial planes, ecstatic states, delineated ritual space, sacred center and conduit and the concept of a quest, among others.

Four cross-cultural healing techniques of the shaman include the deliberate use of singing, dancing, storytelling, and silence, according to cultural anthropologist Angeles Arrien. Scholar Malindoma Some, in his 1997 book, “Ritual: Power, Healing and Community,” described the shamanic rites of his Dakara tribe in Burkina Faso as an opportunity each time for the healing of all members, not limited to those directly affected.

“The role of the shaman,” according to senior simbang Lee Yong Ok of Jeju City’s Chilmeoridang shamanic society in a recent interview, “is to comfort the client or community in abnormal circumstances, usually through song and dance.”

After ensuring her clients’ initial comfort, Lee then assesses through the use of divination whether the client’s circumstances can be effectively addressed through ritual or require medical or other intervention. She prefers seeing clients in their own homes if possible; otherwise, she meets them at the seashore.

Lee’s husband Kim Yoon Su, one of only two remaining keun simbang (grand shaman) on Jeju, expressed his concern in conversation last May over the lack of intergenerational transmission of Jeju shamanism. Fearing that modernization might soon bring an end to this practice, he allowed that he has no immediate successor as his own children did not follow in the family profession, unlike the generations before them.

▲ Shamans Kim Yoon Su and Lee Yong Ok in ritual. Photo provided by Chilmeoridang Yeongdeung-gut Preservation Society.

Rhi Bou Yong, neuropsychiatrist and Jungian psychologist, wrote his doctoral thesis on “Shamanism and the Korean Psyche” in the late 1960s at the C.G. Jung Institute in Zurich. Now retired from Seoul National University and currently the founding director of the Korean Association of Jungian Analysts in Seoul, he has published numerous related articles.

In our conversations in 2005 and 2006 as well as email communication of last year, Dr. Rhi repeatedly emphasized the importance of Korea’s shamanic tradition in defining as well as treating the collective Korean psyche.

Shaman Kim Keum Hwa agrees. A mainland shaman of North Korean heritage who bears the nationally designated title Important Intangible Cultural Asset No. 82, she holds an honorary doctoral degree and is considered a national treasure.

Initiated as a shaman at the age of 17, this now 83-year old mudang (mainland term for shaman) who has performed ritual in more than 25 countries and maintains a shamanic training center on Ganghwa Island, recounted one story after another regarding the effects of ritual on the clients who come to her for individual sessions. (Personal communication, 2005 and 2006.)

Kim traveled to Jeju in early October of this year to perform a public ritual with the well-known contemporary dancer, Hong Sincha, for the good of Jeju Island and its people.

The scientific foundation of indigenous psychology has been well established by scholars Kim Uichol and Park Young-Shin (Inha University, Incheon), among many others.

Koreans’ innate psychology has been explored in detail by Seoul scholars Choi Sang-Chin (Chung-Ang University) and Kim Kibum (Sungkyunkwan University), in particular the phenomenon of “cheong” or “shimcheong” [sic] which might be described as a feeling of close relationship that includes shared meaning in a context of community, and which is supported by the shamanic ritual.

Other examples of mental-emotional constructs within Korean culture include han, nunchi, and kibun, among others, all used to describe aspects of the Korean psyche which are not easily translatable into English nor precisely duplicated elsewhere.

The American Psychiatric Association’s manual on mental disorders, DSM-IV, includes a section on “culture-bound syndromes” – a constellation of mental-emotional symptoms which are only found in a particular culture and are most successfully addressed within that cultural milieu. It includes two from Korea: hwa-byeong and sin-byeong, the latter of which is experienced by those being called by the spirit world to become shamans.

Shamanism, in modern as well as historical eras, provides many of the same functions for Jeju society as does psychological counseling. Its form is flexible and adaptable, integrating modern elements as needed in order to maintain its relevance.

***

Part Two of a 2-part Series.

Shaman Lee Yong Ok, of the Chilmeoridang shamanic society, presided over an unusual memorial ritual earlier this month.

In remembrance of Yang Yong Chan, a student activist who became a martyr by self-immolation 20 years ago, the ritual was held in a park in Seogwipo along with other activities of remembrance and the dedication of a memorial stone.

Considering the circumstances of his death, the Chilmeoridang shamans combined two rituals in a new form likely never before performed in quite this way. Integrated were elements of both the traditional funeral ritual and the rites to the fire gods normally performed when a house has burned down – to ensure the safety of rebuilding on the site.

▲ Shaman Lee Yong Ok conducting memorial ritual for Yang Yong Chan. Photo by Anne Hilty.

In a moving display, the ritual had been constructed according to need, indicating the tradition’s flexibility and ability to continue to comfort and address the needs of a modern society.

In April of this year, the Jeju 4.3 Peace Foundation sponsored a national conference entitled, “4.3 Trauma, Seeking Healing.” In addition to specialists in the areas of history, psychiatry, and psychology, Jeju culture expert Moon Moo-Byung and Seoul scholar of religious studies Kim Seong-nae (Sogang University) spoke on the use of shamanic ritual for healing.

Kim, who has published considerably on Jeju shamanism, refers not only to its healing capabilities but also its role in determining the collective narrative, or cultural identity, thereby relating it to psychology in yet another way.

“…the shamanic epics and legends articulate the rhetoric about…the identity of Cheju [sic] people as tragic heroes and ‘frontier exiles,’” Kim has written.

The renowned Swiss psychiatrist and father of analytical psychology, Carl G. Jung, wrote extensively in the early 20th century on the parallels between shamanic practices and psychoanalysis, in particular regarding his theories on archetypes and collective unconscious and the role of the psychologist as a skilled facilitator of same. His contemporary, accomplished mythologist and prolific author Joseph Campbell, also exploredsuch parallels in detail.

Shaman Suh Sun Sil recounted, in an interview earlier this month, the story of a schizophrenic man brought to her for consultation.

Referring to his “fragmented spirit” and marginally successful prior medical treatment, she described her use of ritual to bring “comfort to his mind” in what might be termed “reintegration” by a psychologist. Following the ritual, he continued his medical protocol with greater success.

Shaman Suh also told of her use of dance and song to alleviate clients’ depression, ritual for the transformation of ‘han’ which is a constellation of suppressed emotions

▲ Shaman Suh Sun Sil in repose during ritual.

Photo by Brenda Paik Sunoo, author of “Moon Tides”. 

including resentment and unresolved grief and loss among others, rites for alleviating the delirium tremens and hallucinations of alcohol detoxification, and the facilitation of broken relationships “by repairing the spirit.”

Citing the power of words and her need to choose them carefully when designing and conducting rituals, Suh also identified the loss of ritual in modern society and the increase in stress and stress-related illnesses as a result.

Michael Winkelman (Arizona State University, USA) is considered one of the foremost scholars on shamanism today. Referring to shamanic practice as “neurotheology and evolutionary psychology” in his 2002 article in American Behavioral Scientist, he identified the psychophysiological effects of altered states of consciousness, neurotransmitter responses resulting from the combination of ritual and community, and the relationship of concepts regarding “spirit” to those of individual and group psychodynamics.

In his 2010 book, “Shamanism: A Biopsychosocial Paradigm of Consciousness and Healing,” Winkelman elaborated on the “shamanic paradigm” as “self-empowerment” which “strengthens individuals’ ability to take an active role in their health and well-being” and “enhances the [full] use of [the] brain, conscious and unconscious” in its emphasis on the “vital connection with community and the spiritual dimension of human health.”

Shaman Lee relayed in a recent interview the 40 year-old story of a Jeju physician with chronic migraines who, after all treatment failed, was scheduled for brain surgery in Seoul. Prior to surgery, he consulted Jeju shaman Moon Ok Sun, who was the mother of Kim Yoon Su, keun simbang (grand shaman) and leader of the Chilmeoridang shaman society – and Lee’s husband.

During the ritual, Shaman Moon discovered that the physician’s brother had been executed during the 1948 turmoil on Jeju and mourning rituals were never performed because they were forbidden at that time.

Shaman Moon performed rituals to comfort the dead and the living, and the physician’s migraines were resolved without surgery. Later, in his clinical practice, he was known for referring treatment-resistant cases to the shamans for ritual.

“Jeju society today still has unresolved trauma from that time,” voiced Shaman Lee, “and Jeju people are not comforted.” Citing mass graves and ongoing identification of the dead, she proposed the need for public funeral rites and soul retrieval.

She also described her work with “heartbroken” clients, divorcing couples, and those experiencing depression “as a result of being blamed unjustly by others.”

The shaman, like the psychologist, pursues an extensive period of formalized training, often in the form of apprenticeship to a senior practitioner and internship under supervision. The concept of “wounded healer,” referring to the shaman – or psychologist – who can deeply empathize as a result of his or her own earlier experience with pain, is common to both professions.

All shamanic ritual follows a standard format. Beginning with a clearly delineated purpose and rites of preparation and purification, the facilitating and supporting shamans shift their consciousness to that of a trance state, invoke the spirits, and request their beneficence. The main task is then addressed in a variety of rites, participants or clients express their gratitude by making offerings, the spirits are then dismissed, and the ritual brought to closure. Ultimately, the boundaries of the sacred space are opened once more, the ritual bond between shamans and participants is released, and all return to their everyday lives.

The counseling session between psychologist and client follows a near-identical basic pattern.

Sharing features with such traditions throughout the world’s cultures, Jeju shamanism provides comfort to a number of the island’s native people. While the shamanic rites are not offered as frequently today as they were 50 years ago, according to shamans Kim, Lee, and Suh, the practice of shamanism remains a vital element in the health of Jeju society, worthy of preservation.

Healing the Korean Psyche: Jeju Olle

[My article, reprinted from Jeju Weekly]

Jeju Olle and the Korean psyche:

Healing minds and hearts

▲ There are over 400 kilometers of Olle walking trails to explore around the island. Photo courtesy Jeju Olle Trail.

Jeju Olle is helping to heal the minds of Korean people.

A post-conflict, post-colonial society with an ongoing threat of military aggression from the North and an unprecedented rate of development, many local experts and average citizens agree: Korea is in need of healing.

Indicators of a society under stress include Korea’s high rates of suicide, depression, anxiety and divorce, accompanied by long working hours, extreme competitiveness in education and elsewhere and a rapid-pace lifestyle with little concept of leisure.

When a staff member at Jeju Olle was asked about the healing effects to be found in walking these trails, she began with, “I’d like to tell you my personal story.”

“I came to Jeju on the advice of a friend who was volunteering for Jeju Olle,” began Lee Su Jin, “at a time when I was physically exhausted, in poor health, and facing a very difficult situation in my life. I walked one trail each day for 10 days in a row,” she continued, “and by the end of that time, I felt truly healed.”

Lee subsequently changed her life, moved to Jeju, and began working with the Jeju Olle team.

“In the beginning of your walk,” she said, “you look at the beautiful scenery and interact with other people. After a while, your thoughts turn inward and you begin contemplating your own life. And finally, your mind empties completely, and you feel refreshed, and whole again.”

“In the end, you meet yourself,” she concluded.

Suh Myung Sook, the visionary who saw both the need for and the possibility of this remarkable trail system at a time (just a few years ago) when local officials were skeptical of Koreans’ interest in such an endeavor, has had much to say about the healing power of Jeju Olle.

Referring to Korea’s recent experience with war and poverty, she has said that Koreans react strongly to minor setbacks, compete with one another for resources and societal position, and “have forgotten how to relax” and handle challenges in a healthy manner.

“Our society is exhausted and stressed,” Suh relayed in a December 2010 conversation, reiterating her belief in a meeting just this week, “with a need for contemplation.”

The notion of healing can seem foreign to Koreans upon questioning. “We don’t typically use this concept” was conveyed by both Kim Jeyon and Han Youngsook, a sentiment echoed by others.

Speak of the “well-being” and “slow” movements which have emerged in the past few years, however, or of the need to relax or feel more comfortable or develop a leisure culture, and everyone agrees.

Korea, like many regions in Asia but perhaps even more so, suffered multiple traumas throughout the 20th century. During the 35-year period of occupation by Japanese armed forces, two successive world wars and numerous regional conflicts swirled around this tiny peninsular nation.

Immediately following Korea’s liberation, the country was thrust into several chaotic years during which it attempted to set up forms of governance never before experienced, resulting in numerous episodes of mass violence on Jeju and throughout the mainland, multiple casualties and wounded survivors, and a country divided. Soon thereafter, the civil war that ultimately involved outside players ensued.

Reeling from the years of this war during which Seoul was flattened three times, many children were orphaned, and poverty and starvation were the norm, Korea entered a period of nation-building which was to include a globally unprecedented rate of economic development. According to Ewha University international studies professor Brendan Howe, this too represents a profound stress.

“When post-conflict nations develop too rapidly,” Howe, a specialist in the area of human security, said at this year’s conference of Korea International Studies Association last month, “it may be good for their economies but it is a great hardship on their psyches.”

Indeed, the types of large-scale mental illness and social problems caused by the trauma that conflict – and colonization, instability, state-sanctioned violence, authoritarian regimes and repression, and extreme poverty – can bring are exhibited in Korea’s skyrocketing rates of suicide, divorce, depression and anxiety.

Intergenerational transmission is a well-acknowledged phenomenon in trauma research, indicating that the wounds borne by a society do not stop with the generation directly affected.

Enter Jeju Olle, and founder Suh.

“At first, the local officials scoffed at my idea,” Suh said in our conversation last year and reiterated this week. “Koreans typically travel like they live – in a rush, consuming but not enjoying, not contemplating. Local government thought that no one would want to travel to Jeju just to walk on nature trails.”

They were wrong. Jeju’s Olle trail system has been consistently voted the favored destination, according to surveys conducted by the Korea Tourism Organization. The estimated number of participants has grown from 3,000 the first year to more than 800,000 in 2010, a rate anticipated to have risen significantly again this year.

Suh’s idea has proven to be exactly what wounded and stressed Koreans needed.

The ultimate goal of trauma resolution, according to scholars of psychology and related fields, is the return of trust, hope, and caring relationships. The healing powers of nature, mindfulness meditation, social relationships as well as solitude, volunteerism, empowerment and community integration are all well documented.

Each of these elements can be found in the Jeju Olle experience.

The message of Jeju Olle, expressed in Suh’s “rules” for walking the trails, provides an apt metaphor for well-being:

Walk slowly. Go at your own pace, enjoying the scenery. Do what you’ve always wanted to do. Interact with the local community, “grasping their willing hands.” All routes are “the best.” Walk lightly on this earth, with the least amount of harm to it – or to others. Talk to strangers along the way. Go green. Follow ancient footpaths. Maintain safety.

It isn’t only the walkers who benefit, however; each person potentially carries this message home to his or her local community.

Jeju Olle is helping to heal the people of Jeju as well. Referring to the island’s “scars,” Suh has suggested that peace is an ultimate and universal value, reflected in these trails.

“Jeju is my ‘hometown,’” said Jeju National University instructor Han Youngsook, who has walked every Jeju Olle trail, some of them repeatedly. “Maybe visitors who walk for many days in a row feel more ‘healing power’ – but after walking an Olle trail, I always feel happy and pleased with myself, stronger and more energetic, refreshed, with a ‘clear mind’ and the recollection of many good memories from my childhood.”

Suh Myung Sook, in recent efforts to integrate Jeju Olle with other trail systems around the world, now dreams of Jeju as the center for Asian eco-tourism.

In war-torn Asia, this may be just what the doctor ordered.

***

In a brief follow-up interview Suh Myung Sook, founder of Jeju Olle, had this to add:

Regarding Jeju Olle and the healing of Korea’s wounded psyche, what are your thoughts?

I believe that it’s a very accurate and insightful analysis. In fact, from what I’ve heard, Jeju Olle is healing the minds of many. In reality, nature has a therapeutic effect, often called “eco-healing.” Yet, why are so many people experiencing and talking about a healing effect after walking Jeju Olle? It’s because Jeju’s nature is not too big, not too wide, not too vast, yet still very beautiful and lyrical. Standing in front of vast and magnificent forms of nature, people are not only in awe but also daunted and intimidated, reminded of human insignificance. However, Jeju’s soft oreums and wide ocean nurse humans, and nurture their minds. That’s why Jeju Olle is a healing trail.

There seems to have been a recent ‘paradigm shift’ in Korean thinking and being, due in part to Jeju Olle’s influence. Would you share your thoughts on this?

Following liberation, for decades Korea has gone through a compressed modernization process on top of its scars from the war. This has resulted in magnificent achievement and developments, never seen elsewhere in the world, yet it also gave Korea a “hurry hurry” (palli-palli) culture and competitive society. Koreans have even experienced their leisure activities in the same way: the faster the better, and the more the better. However, we recommend that people walk slowly, resting and playing on the Jeju Olle. In that way, people can truly enjoy [internal] conversation with themselves and with nature. That’s why Korean people say Jeju Olle has changed the tour and leisure culture of Korea, from car trips to walking trips, and from a “tour culture filled with dots” in which people move from Point A to Point B, to a “tour culture filled with lines” in which people enjoy the process.

I and many others consider you a visionary, recognizing what Korean people needed when others couldn’t see it — and finding a way to make it a reality. How do you feel about this?

I’m a little shy to be called a visionary. However, in my journalist background, for 20~30 years I lived the most typical Korean life, chasing after success and developing my career at a rapid pace. As a result, I was physically and mentally exhausted. And in order to reflect and to heal myself, I quit my job and left for the Camino de Santiago [trail in Spain]. On the trail, I thought about making a trail in my own hometown, and my wish became reality with much help and support of so many people around me. In the sense that I once felt the pain that all Koreans share, and tried hard to find a solution in the midst of it, it could be a matter of “one who experienced [healing] earlier” or “the one to put [this dream] into action.”

Beyond Tangerines and Palm Trees

[My article, reprinted from Yonhap News Agency]

 

JEJU ISLAND, South Korea, Nov. 11 (Yonhap) — Every culture, by definition, is unique, and especially so is that of Jeju Island, a volcanic tourist attraction off the southern tip of the Korean Peninsula.Jeju’s culture has developed over thousands of years as a result of its people’s relationship with nature, animistic religion and mythology.

The first place in the world to receive UNESCO designations in all three natural science categories, Jeju has its cultural foundation in the animistic belief among its people that the island is home to 18,000 gods.

Tamnaguk Ipchun Gutnori is a large shamanic ritual to welcome the coming of spring, and it entreats the gods’ blessing for a bountiful growing season and community prosperity.

“Yeongdeung-gut,” one of shamanistic rituals of Jeju Island

(Courtesy of Chilmeoridang Yeongdeung-gut Preservation Society)

A large wooden sculpture of a cow, made each year by local artists, is the ritual’s centerpiece. Shamans in colorful clothing and musicians playing traditional instruments make up key elements of the ritual.

“It’s a riotous display,” festival organizer Hong Sunyoung said.

When the gods have been sufficiently invoked, shamans, “cow,” and audience together parade 1 kilometer to a square where the remainder of the festival takes place. There, shamans further encourage the gods’ beneficence by performing a six-act mask dance while reciting the story of a farmer and his wish for another bountiful season.

A common Jeju village home (Courtesy of Anne Hilty)

The island with a population of nearly 600,000 holds many such public shamanic rituals, including the UNESCO-designated Yeongdeung-gut which welcomes the goddess of diving women and fishermen each spring.

Jeju has more than 400 shamanic shrines, or “dang” in the local dialect.

“I believe one village equals one dang,” says Moon Moo-byung, chief scholar of Jeju Traditional Culture Institute. “Villages naturally form where there is a god.”

“There is a very close relationship between our tradition of shamanism and the strong character of our women,” adds Moon Soon-deok, lead researcher of Jeju Development Institute.

Scholars believe that Jeju’s harsh natural conditions contributed to its cultural uniqueness. The island was formed by volcanic eruption and as such has an extremely rocky soil, long the bane of this agrarian society.

Its particularly windy climate has always represented a challenge not only to farmers but also those making their living from the sea, both fishermen and the famed diving women, or “haenyeo.” Frequent typhoons and other storms have contributed to the loss of many seafaring men, resulting in a gender imbalance.

“Jeju people can be melancholic,” mused renowned Jeju-born artist Byun Shi-ji, whose work hangs in the Smithsonian, “but diligently face challenges.”

“Haenyeo,” or diving women, an important part of Jeju’s unique culture.

(Courtesy of Brenda Paik Sunoo, author of “Moon Tides”)

Today, the harsh natural elements no longer represent a serious threat. Rather, the rock is used for building as well as artistic purposes, the wind harnessed as a source of renewable energy.

At the foundation of Jeju culture is its mythology. Unlike mainland Korea and many world cultures with male-oriented creation myths, Jeju’s creation story centers on a giant goddess, Seolmundae Halmang. Its central volcano, sacred Mount Halla, is her embodiment.

The island’s oral tradition has a high proportion of goddesses and other powerful female imagery contributing to the character strength of Jeju women, written about in detail by mythologists Kim Soonie and Koh Heakyoung, among others.

“Jeju is not ‘matriarchal’ as often misreported,” Koh said. “Women have not held many positions of leadership. Instead, it’s ‘matrifocal.’ There has always been a strong emphasis on its women, which in turn has given them strength of character.”

Jeju’s communal fishing customs can be seen in the haenyeo, women who dive in order to harvest sea creatures and products. The diving women in particular are found nowhere else in the world with the exception of the “ama” in southern Japan.

The vision of the island, officially called Jeju Special Self-Governing Province, is to become an international and ultra-modern city akin to Hong Kong or Singapore. Toward this goal, the island is pushing six major development projects, including the Global English Education City and Healthcare Town.

Of late, however, the development model is moving toward ‘glocalization’ — globalizing while at the same time preserving elements of Jeju’s unique local culture.