[AP] & [REUTERS]A South Korean protester holds a cow's ear at an anti-…
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20040409
AP
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A South Korean protester holds a cow's ear at an anti-Japan protest in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul April 9, 2004. Japan's Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi has refused to abide by the verdict of a Japanese district court who ruled his visits to the controversial Yasukuni Shrine unconstiutional. Koizumi's visits to the shrine have angered some Asian countries including China and South Korea. A proverb written in Chinese characters on the man's headband means "preaching to deaf ears". REUTERS/You Sung-Ho _____________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________________ <AP> BC-AS-FEA-GEN--SKorea-Protest King Korea's Robin Hood: Enemy of Kim Jong Il, corruption, and premarital sex AP Photos SEL106-107 By SANG-HUN CHOE= Associated Press Writer= SEOUL, South Korea (AP) _ Hong Jung-sik has hurled chili powder at the Japanese embassy and rotten fish at the South Korean presidential palace. He's torn a U.S. flag with his teeth and even tried to send North Korean leader Kim Jong Il a pair of cow ears _ a potent insult of stupidity in Korean culture. In a land known for fiery rallies stretching back decades to military rule, Hong sets the standard as a one-man protest machine, staging a record 1,000 demos since quitting his job as an airport customs agent five years ago. The hell-and-brimstone campaigner has railed against everything from North Korea's nuclear weapons program to the war in Iraq and premarital sex. As South Korea's most visible protester, he perhaps comes closer than anyone to personifying the country's penchant and tolerance for vociferous demonstrations. It's a tradition underlined by the nightly rallies that recently drew tens of thousands to downtown Seoul to protest the impeachment of President Roh Moo-hyun. Supporters hail Hong as a Robin Hood and scourge of the corrupt. Detractors call him an action junkie and quixotic gadfly-with-a-cause. "To me, I am a person who exercises the constitutional right of freedom of expression to the fullest extent," Hong says. Police reported 11,837 protests in South Korea last year. Yet, among the cacophonous legions of activists, 54-year-old Hong stands out for demonstrating three or four days a week with a war chest of wacky props. Dressed as a mortician with cotton balls stuffed up his nose to block the "stench," he once stormed scandal-tainted government offices, roaring: "I have come to bury you!" He also likes to spray those rooms with insecticide to "kill cockroaches of corruption." When another political boss was embroiled in scandal surrounding a real estate development dubbed "Good Morning City" earlier this year, Hong tailed him with a coterie of photographers, repeatedly shouting: "Good morning, sir!" He has also sent thousands of towels to politicians "so that they could clean their corruption," and tens of thousands of yellow envelopes to government officials "so that they could return the bribes." Another tactic: Sending politicians duct tape and mouthwash "so they can seal their mouths or at least wash them out." "Sometimes I think I'm too much," he said. In a country regularly rocked by corruption scandals, however, Hong says people "let steam off through me." Hong attacks both conservatives and liberals, anyone that goes against his idea of "making the country peaceful and the people happy." He says he is pro-American, although he has opposed the "blood-for-oil" war in Iraq and once gnashed at a U.S. flag while protesting plans to build a new U.S. embassy on an old palace site in central Seoul. Hong cites three keys to a successful demonstration: "a succinct message as sharp as a dagger, catharsis for the people, and entertainment for journalists covering it." Hong's large eyes, glowing behind his glasses, make him look constantly alert. "In today's fast-paced world, an issue hardly lasts more than 48 hours. You must be quick," he says. By 11 p.m., Hong has usually read the next morning's newspapers on the Internet and might work overnight preparing statements in response to headlines. When the sun appears, so does he _ at protest sites, with bloodshot eyes and placards emblazoned with punchy slogans. In March, Hong wrapped his body with a national flag and charged into a row of bewildered young police guarding the Japanese embassy, demanding that "Japan repent" for its colonial rule of the Korean Peninsula. "I fight like a venomous snake," he said. Despite his bluster, police treat him as a quirky, yet harmless demonstrator. Hong lives on a pension. His wife sells cosmetics to help finance his endless campaign. "Sometimes he is gone for a week to protest in provincial cities," said wife Park Soon-sim. "Nothing stops him. I am resigned to let him do what he likes so much. But when I see him on TV bleeding in a clash, my heart aches." Hong's itch for what he calls "blood-boiling" activism was evident back in high school. In 1968, South Korea's anti-communist military regime mobilized a 100,000-man rally to denounce the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. Hong went uninvited, stormed the stage, unfurled a Soviet flag, and set it ablaze. He joined the government in 1975, but his maverick behavior quickly became a "thorn in my bosses' eye." In 1998, he launched Hwalbindan, or "Save the Poor," a campaign named after old-time Korean bandits who robbed from the rich to give to the poor. The following year, he quit government and turned full-time campaigner. Hwalbindan claims 2,000 members, but Hong prefers to operate alone. On weekends, he climbs mountains, preaching forest protection to other hikers. In the summer, he strolls bikini-filled beaches espousing premarital chastity. Unlike the stereotypical South Korean protester seen decrying the U.S. military presence here, Hong is an ardent supporter of South Korea's military alliance with the United States. He even donated a karaoke machine to American GIs stationed along the no man's land separating the two Koreas. Hong also backs a tough stance on North Korea's Kim Jong Il. In 2003, he mailed a pair of cow ears to a North Korean diplomat staying at a Seoul hotel, asking him to deliver them to Kim. It was a not-so-subtle reference to the old Korean saying: "Talking to a stupid person is like shouting Buddhist scripture into the ears of a cow." The package was returned by the postmaster. Such antics make Hong unpopular among fellow activists. Hong's Web site, www.hwalbindan.co.kr , was flooded with hate mail and he clashed with anti-U.S. activists after he welcomed President George W. Bush's visit in 2002. "I was born in 1950, the year the Korean War broke out. There are not many people born in 1950 who are still alive. Without the U.S. troops who fought in the war, maybe I would not be here today," he says. "Don't forget the favors others did for you," he says, citing an old axiom. "Don't dwell on the favors you did for others." _____________________________________________________________________ DAUM
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