“The Beauty of the Flames”: Another Suspicious Fire Breaks out in Prime Seoul Real Estate

The legend of Nero singing while the Roman slums burned is, according to the historian Tacitus, most likely false. But the global practice of burning slums to force out residents on land that developers covet is a story as old as the city itself. So when I read the news yesterday morning about a fire in a neighborhood that buts right up against Gangnam in Seoul, I was not surprised at the event, but more so at how naïve the coverage was.

Workshop of Giulio Romano, Nero Playing while Rome Burns c. 1536-9

Image courtesy of Royal Collection Trust

Anyone who has heard stories of leaders of anti-development groups suddenly and mysteriously committing suicide or seen fires break out conveniently during a deadlock between hold-out residents and developers would come to the same conclusion.

“Since 2012, the village has been hit by at least eight fires, Seoul's Gangnam district office, the local authority which oversees the area, told Agence France-Presse.

Plans for redevelopment have made little progress because of disputes between residents and landlords.” (Deutsche Welle).

Come on baby, light my fire.

“It was formed in the 1980s by people evicted from their original neighbourhoods by redevelopment projects under the military government of the time, but efforts to develop the area have been frustrated by disagreements between local governing bodies and residents.

Guryong Village is on the edge of the affluent Gangnam district, which has some of the country's most expensive real-estate.” (BBC)

“Guryong village, an illegal encampment located just across a massive highway from some of Seoul's most expensive real estate, marked by towering high-rise apartments and lavish shopping districts, has long been a symbol of South Korea's stark income inequalities.” (CBS News) Please tell me, what’s the illegal part? The act of living there or the actions of a government that put people there? Or the subsequent softening and cover-up of those actions?

Instead of asking: “how did this happen?” let’s ask a different question: “who stands to benefit the most from this happening?”

One answer can be found in a scholarly treatment of the Korean gentrification dilemma: “Displacement of poorer owner-occupiers and tenants was requisite for the success of speculative accumulation.”[1]

If the fire is determined to be caused by a negligent “slum-dweller,” isn’t that the perfect opportunity to force redevelopment sooner rather than later?

It seems that once again the Euro-North American news outlets have little experience interpreting events such as these that take place outside of its insular context. So let me provide a little context by summarizing a few well-known cases of violent dispossession and slum clearance in Seoul’s authoritarian past.

In the 1970s and 1980s, there was no freedom for civil society in South Korea. The country was run as a brutal dictatorship that may have been instrumental in the country’s rapid economic development (a debatable and suspect point). As such, when the country was presented to its own leadership or to the world, it was molded to suit what those leaders wanted to see. These power flexes continue to this day. Whenever large multinational events such as the Olympics or an economic forum comes to town, the unseemly elements are ousted so that the government can project an image of its own power and capabilities, legitimizing its ruthless methods in the face of its outstanding results: “yes, they brutally torture any perceived dissidents and don’t allow the citizens any say in the way the country is run, but at least no one’s starving.” That’s the image that leaders from around the world are meant to come away with, so that they continue to support a warped view of the country’s “soft” authoritarianism.

In order to create that vision, the government first had to crack down on what it deemed unsightly. In one famous incident during the run-up to the 1986 Asian Games and the 1988 Olympics, anyone who the government thought would tarnish their image was dragged off the street by the police and shipped off to a concentration camp in Busan euphemistically named Hyungje Bokjiwon or “Brothers Home.” Those who were taken were mainly homeless street people, although there were several political dissidents and many young children. They were forced to work in a factory in the camp where they lived; they were abused by the guards and their fellow inmates, who were encouraged to use depraved punishments to keep their cell mates in line. Many died there, and a mass grave was found downhill from the site. The government provided subsidies for their cronies to run these centers, of which there were several, but the Brothers Home is the most famous for its viciousness, and the fact that the family who ran it profited enormously off it, fled to Australia, and never faced justice for what they did.

Image of the Brothers Home Cafeteria taken from Kim Yong-won played against the title card from popular Korean drama "Reply 1988" in which an old neighborhood is eventually demolished following the 1988 Olympics

Not only were people themselves under attack, but what little they owned was targeted by the government. In the 1970s, one man from an informal housing settlement was propelled to infamy because of a brutal incident; using only a hammer, he beat five government demolition workers to death. Park Heung-sook was known in his neighborhood for being a hard worker, an excellent fighter, and a bright student. His indigent family lived in a shack in a mountainous area outside of Gwangju City (yes, that’s right, it was the same place as the Gwangju Democratization Movement 광주 민주화 운동). Despite the difficulty of his circumstances and his family’s lack of tuition money, he excelled in school and began to study for the bar exam. A state-redevelopment scheme targeted the informal settlement on the Mudeng Mountain for destruction. First came the command for everyone to leave. Having some knowledge of the law, Park tried arguing with the thugs.

“If you destroy our houses, where should the people live?”

“Why don’t you just live underground?” This response was the equivalent of telling him to just die, but Park took it seriously, acquired some tools, and started digging a basement room into the mountain. Eventually, the fight between the residents and the state agents escalated, and the houses on the hillside were set on fire. Initially, Park tried reasoning with the men to stop, but when they didn’t, he fought them and managed to capture and tie up five of them with ropes. One man against five has poor odds, but since he was able to subdue these five men, Park expected that they would come to an agreement. However, they did not agree to halt demolition, and, full of pent-up rage at the injustice of the situation, Park took one of his digging tools that he had used to try to build his underground home, a hammer, and beat the men with it until all five of them were dead.

The local people considered him a hero, but he was caught, charged and executed in a short time, all while the state-controlled newspapers ran libelous articles with made-up stories about his background and downplayed the situation that led to his becoming violent. It was only after South Korea’s democratization that the full story of Park Heung-sook was revealed to the masses.

In the present, the nature of the enemy has changed. Although we often hear about the rise of authoritarianism in the news these days, most developed economies have less to fear from the state (weakened by decades of neoliberalism) than they do from powerful corporate entities (strengthened by decades of neoliberalism), who are free to operate without consideration of a populace. They are the modern day’s aristocracy, an irresponsible protected class who can extract wealth wherever they please. Many housing estates bear brand names, developed by well-known chaebols like Hyundai or Samsung, corporations so powerful that they can be said to be operating a state within a state.

The overlords may have changed, the heavy-handed redevelopment schemes pursued in Korea have maintained a similar character. The residents of Guryong Village face such peril today. In the 1970s and 1980s, they faced down the threat of the state, who pushed them out to where they live today, and now, they are up against powerful development interests from the private sector. Although the leadership and news outlets blame the houses’ shoddy construction and materials for the fires, this response is akin to “Let them eat cake.” In one of the world’s most unaffordable housing markets, living in a cheap shack right next to Gangnam actually sounds like a pretty sweet deal.

Although many will claim that the residents are holding out for a larger compensation settlement, much of the past data shows that residents in these informal villages are largely the losers in redevelopment schemes – even if they are given the chance to purchase a newly built apartment for the cost of construction, that price is much higher than their current living expenses, and the cost of maintenance rises higher than what they can afford.[2]

Photographs of slums next to high rises in Asia play well in Western media, as stereotypical as the equivalent image of a person in traditional dress using a smart phone. They like to write that the juxtaposition of Guryong Village and Gangnam is a portrait of inequality, but this is no still life. The threat of Gangnam, like a moving picture of avarice, looms over places like Guryong Village.

[1] Shin, H. B., & Kim, S.-H. (2016). The developmental state, speculative urbanisation and the politics of displacement in gentrifying Seoul. Urban Studies, 53(3), 540–559. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26151044 [2] Shin, H. B. (2008). Living on the edge: financing post-displacement housing in urban redevelopment projects in Seoul. Environment and Urbanization, 20(2), 411–426. https://doi.org/10.1177/0956247808096120