South Korea’s truth commission, which was established by the 2000 Jeju 4·3 Special Law, has generally been recognized as a success in uncovering truth and beginning a process of healing for the Jeju islanders (Kim 2012, 728). The government has started implementing all seven of the commissions final recommendations, such as the issuance of an apology, the declaration of a memorial day, the creation of a memorial park, and the continuous support for commemoration projects (Kim 2013). In comparison to other models of resolving mass tragedies, South Korea’s model of truth and reconciliation has stood out among the Nuremberg trials, Rwanda-Tutsi retaliation and China’s denial and concealment tactics (Park 2018, 107). Instead, Myung-Lim Park and others have praised its “spirit of mutual forgiveness” and refusal of legal punitive justice for allowing conciliatory tolerance to overcome vengeance for past wrongdoings (Park 2018, 108).
Memorial ceremony at the Jeju 4·3 Peace Park commemorating the incident’s 55th Anniversary, April 3, 2003, The Jeju 4·3 Incident Investigation Report (Revised Translation).
Chile
However, Greg Grandin, in examining the truth commissions of Latin America, has criticized the effectiveness of this process of these institutions in facilitating trauma reparation and future prevention (Grandin 2005, 47). Specifically, he criticizes Chile’s National Commission for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR) for undermining its initial purpose of providing relief to the victims of Augusto Pinochet’s military coup and dictatorship. He argues that the report, by portraying “terror as an inversion… [and] a nightmarish alternative” (Grandin 2005, 48) and distilling “a violent past into a manageable” (Grandin 2005, 47-48) narrative, only served to further nationalist objectives rather than move towards a healing process.
Although the commission had been created to investigate repression of left-wing groups, the report instead insists upon establishing “moral equivalency between the Left and the Right” (Grandin 2005, 57). He argues it expressed sympathy for the right-wing parties, lending credibility to and even legitimizing the fears they had of the leftist government formerly in power. Furthermore, it pointed to hardening ideological polarization and accelerated democratic backsliding, implying the necessity of the coup in saving the nation while simultaneously decrying its atrocities (Grandin 2005, 57). In Chile, the NCTR’s report, rather than symbolizing meaningful progress, demonstrated performative nationalism and forwarded nation-building rhetoric. Consequently, Grandin finds fault with this truth commission for absolving the sitting government of guilt and falsely depicting Chile’s right wing revolt as imperative to “[preventing] a larger catastrophe,” regardless of its humans rights violation (Grandin 2005, 57).
South Korea
Victim’s families look through a Jeju 4·3 Incident memorial’s list of names, April 3, 2003, The Jeju 4·3 Incident Investigation Report (Revised Translation).
The Jeju 4·3 Report also contained the same nationalistic ideals, as seen in Prime Minister Goh Kun’s foreword: “I hope this Investigation report will . . . [contribute] to upholding human rights, developing democracy, and achieving national unity” (Task Force of Preparing Investigation Report of Jeju April 3 Incident [2014], Foreword).
Even so, the truth commission has achieved tangible progress for Jeju victims’ families. Why?
Park argues that the Jeju Commission’s success was especially driven by “a common spirit and internal consciousness of responsibility,” only comparing it to the acceptance of the Nazi Regime’s crimes by the entirety of the German Nation (Park 2018, 119). Because Korean society and government could share in their collective guilt for the Jeju Massacre, they could make genuine progress in overcoming and working to make right these past wrongs. It is possible that the Chilean model, by prosecuting Pinochet and others involved in the dictatorship, offered a short-term solution but did not allow for a long-term process of reconciliation; by imposing legal justice, the government was able to simply move on.
Additionally, Hun Joon Kim presents the commission’s fundamental interpretation of its purpose as another factor in generating change. He argues that the commission, rather than seeking factual, individual truths, sought to also “create a comprehensive and historical truth” and report a single story rather than isolated accounts (Kim 2013). Chile, however, was driven by a “lawyerly ambivalence toward historical conjecture” (Grandin 2005, 55) and a “circumscribed historical approach” (Grandin 2005, 56) refused to properly examine the disaster through a political and social sensibility.
Finally, Kim credits local advocacy networks for demanding and eventually receiving governmental acknowledgement. Victims were involved in both the creation and investigations of the committee, allowing their interests to be fairly represented by the report. Students, activists, and journalists “openly advocated transitional justice and organized public demonstrations,” spurring domestic and international sympathy for their efforts (Kim 2012, 732). This advocacy process pairs nicely with Grandin’s optimism for Guatemala’s Historical Clarification Commission (CEH), where he praises the “pan-Mayan cultural rights movement” and activism for demanding action from the truth commission. Chile, in turn, lacked this grassroots presence, likely eroding both its effectiveness for and responsiveness to the individuals most engaged within the truth commission’s findings and representation.
Activists reenact the Jeju Massacre on its 70th anniversary, 2018, digital image, accessed December 21st, 2020, Source: Korea Times, <https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2019/01/251_262242.html>
These three factors have allowed South Korean demands for justice to thrive following decades of political repression. Even today, this activism continue to drive the initial success of the Jeju 4·3 Truth Commission, establishing a sustainable model for reconciliation.