hankyoreh

Kang Yong-ju

I was shocked to hear that Kang was back in court. I was even more shocked to hear that he has been charged with refusing to carry out his reporting duties under the Security Surveillance Act. How could I not be surprised that the man is still shackled to the past today, 18 years after he was released from prison?

Kang was a third-year student in high school when he shouldered a rifle as a member of the citizens‘ army in the Gwangju Democratization Movement in 1980, and he was a student in medical school when he was implicated in the “ Western Illinois spy ring” (which was allegedly fabricated by the Chun Doo-hwan regime). He was a prisoner of conscience, who was tortured for 35 days and then spent 14 years in prison. As part of his resistance to the “ideological recantation program,” he went on a hunger strike for 300 days while in prison. Declared by Amnesty International to be the youngest long-term political prisoner refusing to renounce his views, Kang was the one who ultimately brought down the recantation system. He is a doctor of family medicine who until last year was the director of the Gwangju Trauma Center and who is currently making a name for himself with his pain treatment at a clinic he opened in central Seoul. Such a person has been subject to government surveillance for 18 years, ostensibly because of concerns that he might return to crime, and he was ordered to appear in court on Apr. 28 because he did not do as he was told.

The Security Surveillance Act applies to people who have completed at least three-year prison terms for violating the National Security Law. Security surveillance must be renewed every two years, but, if the Justice Minister believes that there is a risk of recidivism, the state can continue to monitor an individual’s private life until the day they die. Here are some of the typical reasons given for renewing surveillance to date: “He has called for the abolition of the National Security Law and the Security Surveillance Act,” “He has attended various demonstrations,” “He is a loafer who relies on his wife’s income,” and even “He is good at using the internet and highly capable of activity.” Such reasons are extremely arbitrary and infringe on human rights.

Being subject to security surveillance means that you must report your every move, every three months. If you move to a new house, you have to report that, and if the police suddenly call you in the middle of the night, you have to pick up the phone. If you want to travel, you have to provide advance notice of the destination and length of your trip and your travel companions. The police can ban you not only from meeting or contacting other people but also from attending public gatherings and demonstrations. Not only your family and relatives but even your landlord, coworkers, church parishioners and apartment security staff can be asked to provide information about you or may be subject to surveillance themselves. Even though you have already finished your prison sentence, your life as a convict continues for the rest of your life.

During his 14 years in prison, Kang Yong-ju refused to sign the statement of recantation. Some people signed the statement under torture and killed themselves; many others ended up handicapped because of the torture. Stubbornly refusing to recant for 14 years under such circumstances must have been an agony that defies imagination. It was not ideology or belief, Kang says, that sustained him when he was thrown into the punishment cell for any reason at all, tied up hand and foot and forced to eat like a dog: rather, it was his dignity and values as a human. So when the recantation system was abolished and Kang was released from prison without vowing to obey the law, he said, “I don’t owe the world anything now. I‘ve done all I could. I don’t think society ought to make such demands of me again.”

Kang Yong-ju is the canary in the coal mine, helping us realizing that the freedom of conscience and the freedom of expression are like the air that we breathe. In that regard, we are in his debt. He fought alone in prison for 14 years, and we must not make him endure that fight alone for 18 more years. It could be a fight that will continue until his death. We must fight with him to abolish this law -- which ultimately means protecting our own conscience and identity.

I hope that the court trying this case will postpone its judgment on the grounds that the Security Surveillance Act is unconstitutional and ask the Constitutional Court to review its constitutionality. I believe that the desire for a sensible government to come to power reflects many people’s desire for this kind of sensible judgment to become a routine matter. Kang Yong-ju shouldn’t be in the courtroom; he should be enjoying the freedom of his routine - for the rest of his life.

By Lee Myung-soo, psychotherapist

Please direct questions or comments to [english@hani.co.kr]