The "Most Invaded Territory" Sweepstakes

Perhaps because of Korea’s undeniably horrific experiences during the 20th century, many Koreans seem to believe that their country has been uniquely victimized and invaded more than anywhere else on earth–well over 2,000 times if one counts every border clash and pirate raid, as some assiduous victimologists have done. Reputable professional historians dispute this quite vigorously, although everyone agrees about the terrible destruction wrought by the Hideyoshi invasions in the late 16th century and Mongol invasion during the early 13th century. My own strictly amateur assessment of the broader context follows.

In the global competition for the prize of “most invaded territory” in history, I suspect Korea would be eliminated in the early rounds, even within its favored “most invaded peninsula” division. The competition in the “most invaded steppe” division is far more brutal. Even within the Eurasian peninsula division, the Anatolian, Balkan, Italian, and Iberian peninsulas have certainly compiled far more impressive records than the Korean peninsula, especially if one includes coastal piracy. Sure, the Korean peninsula has been invaded more often than the Japanese archipelago over the last couple of millennia, but both are in the bush leagues in the global scheme of things. In the “most invaded archipelago” division, Japan would probably not even be invited to the tournament, despite its devastating defeat in World War II.

UPDATE: Even the hard-nosed Marmot was putting his money on Korea.

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Hidden Christians, Last Samurai, and Gun Runners

The Christmas edition of the New York Times carried an article about Japan’s hidden Christians that intersects with other threads in the history of Kyushu, Japan’s southwesternmost main island.

Christianity came to Japan with St. Francis Xavier in 1549, during a time of weak central government. Spreading fast through southern Japan, Christianity counted as many as 750,000 converts, or 10 percent of the population, by the 1630’s. Today, by contrast, about 1 percent of Japan’s 127 million people are Christians.

Alarmed by Spain’s colonization and conversion of the neighboring Philippines, Hideyoshi, the general who united Japan in the late 16th century, banned Christianity and ordered the expulsion of missionaries as early as 1587.

Hideyoshi went on to invade in Korea in 1592 and again in 1598, wreaking considerable havoc and kidnapping the Korean craftsmen responsible for introducing exquisite Arita porcelain techniques in Japan. A desire to emulate Hideyoshi’s imperial adventures in Korea was the real motivation for Saigo Takamori‘s rebellion in 1877 that inspired the movie The Last Samurai. Saigo was the lord of Satsuma, the feudal domain that managed to run its own foreign policy even during the isolationist Tokugawa Shogunate (1603-1867), conquering the Ryukyus (Okinawa) in 1609 and exploiting its extensive trade network to build up its wealth and later modernize its own weaponry. In fact, gun-running from Nagasaki was a key factor in enabling the three southern domains of Satsuma (in the far south of Kyushu), Choshu (in the far southwest of Honshu), and Tosa (on the south side of Shikoku) to overthrow the Tokugawa and restore the Meiji emperor to power in 1868. During the 1877 Satsuma rebellion, according to the Russo-Japanese War Research Society:

The samurai were armed with Enfield muzzle loading rifles and could fire approximately one round per minute. Their artillery consisted of 28 mountain guns, 2 field guns (15.84 pounders), and 30 assorted mortars.

Before the Tokugawa shoguns pacified Japan and sealed it off from the outer world during the early 1600s, the archipelago had gone through a long period of anarchy and warfare, the Sengoku or “warring states” era (1467-1615). No wonder ordinary Japanese people were so open to Christianity and new ideas. Their own elite warriors had gone berserk. After pacification, some of the surplus warriors apparently found work overseas. According to Giles Milton’s account in Nathaniel’s Nutmeg, Japanese mercenaries helped the Dutch East India Company fight the Portuguese in the Spice Islands in 1608. In 1609, the Dutch showed up in Japan, seeking to break the Portuguese trade monopoly there. The Shogunate was increasingly suspicious of the Portuguese missionaries and their growing flock of converts. After martyring many Christians and suppressing the 1637-38 Shimabara Rebellion in a heavily Christian area near Nagasaki, the Shogunate expelled the Portuguese and moved the Dutch trading post (or “factory”) to the artificial island of Deshima in Nagasaki Bay. The remaining Christians went underground, adapted their rituals, and remained hidden until Japan began reopening to the outside world in the 1850s.

As the country opened up, the Nagasaki foreign settlement flourished, attracting not only a British arms merchant and a Romanian Jewish innkeeper, but also American doctors and a sizable Italian community that indirectly inspired Puccini to write his opera Madama Butterfly, which debuted in 1904.

Although Tokyo people may think of Kyushu as being the back of beyond, it was Japan’s most important crossroads with the outside world for many centuries.

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Iceland Travelogue

Perhaps since first reading Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth as a kid, I’ve always wanted to pay an extended visit to Iceland. (I have no desire to journey to the center of the earth. I’m too claustrophobic.) Here‘s a chance to enjoy a vicarious trip to Iceland, courtesy of Danny Yee, whose “ramblings of a pathologically eclectic generalist” are guaranteed to hold something of interest for anyone who still has a grain of curiosity about the wider world.

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Electronic Archives on the Marshall Islands

For “in-depth and authoritative information about the people, culture, environment, arts, history, health, politics and the economy of the Marshall Islands in Micronesia,” a great place to start is Dirk Spennemann’s The Marshall Islands: An Electronic Library & Archive of Primary Sources.

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Koreans of Central Asia

Approximately 450,000 ethnic Koreans reside in the former USSR, primarily in the newly independent states of Central Asia. With the exception of those living on Sakhalin Island and North Korean émigrés, these Koreans refer to themselves as koryo saram–a designation long obsolete on the Korean peninsula, where today Northerners refer to themselves as chosun saram and Southerners as hanguk saram.

In the late 19th and early 20th century, the forebears of today’s koryo saram emigrated from the peninsula to the Russian Far East, some of them in order to wage guerilla warfare against Japanese colonial forces in Korea. Ironically then, in 1937, Stalin deported all of these settlers–approximately 200,000–to Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, on the official premise that the Koreans might act as spies for Japan.

Thus states the introduction to the Koryo Saram website posted by Steven Sunwoo Lee, U.S. Fulbright Fellow to Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan (2001-2002), based on information provided by Professor Dr. German Nikolaevich Kim, chair of the Korean Studies Department at Kazakhstan State University named for Al-Farabi, and board member of the Association of Koreans of Kazakhstan (AKK). The site contains links to many downloadable articles in MS Word format, most in Russian, but with a handful translated into English.

Korea’s northern exiles had such a fractious history that it’s hard to find any account that doesn’t have some partisan agenda to push. (Kim Il-sông got his start as a guerrilla leader among the northern exiles.) As the introduction above hints, you can’t even translate the word ‘Korea’ into modern-day Korean–or Japanese or Chinese, for that matter–without taking sides. The name Chosôn comes from that of the last Korean kingdom (1392-1910) and is often translated ‘Morning Calm’. (‘Morning Fresh’ would perhaps be more accurate if it didn’t sound so much like a deodorizer or laundry detergent: “Does your dynasty let you down after only a few generations? [Display scenes of childish leaders, starving peasants, etc.] Introducing … Morning Fresh, the dynasty that lasts for centuries!”)

South Koreans have elevated their ethnonym Han (not to be confused with the Han meaning Chinese) and named their peninsular country Hanguk ‘Han country’. They refer to the northern part as Pukhan ‘north Han’. In Japan, the term Chosenjin ‘Chosôn person’ (or worse, Senjin) has long been so derogatory that the polite equivalent is now Kankokujin ‘Han country person’, and South Korea is Kankoku (the Japanese equivalent of Hanguk)–but North Korea remains Kita Chosen ‘North Chosôn’. Of course, there is no official Minami Chosen ‘South Chosôn’, nor any official Hokkan (the Japanese equivalent of Pukhan), although I suspect the latter term is widely used among Japanese who interact with South Koreans or who read South Korean sources. Some people are trying to revive Koryô, the name of an earlier kingdom (918-1392) that doesn’t carry as much 20th-century political baggage. In fact, the admirably neutral English word Korea comes from Koryô.

The Argus responds.

UPDATE: In the comments, The Marmot notes that the name Koryo does indeed carry political baggage, generally in a northern direction. The Koryo capital, Kaesong, intersects the 38th parallel from the north. It was the site of the first truce talks during the Korean War, before they were moved to Panmunjom, just on the south side of the parallel. Some have optimistically proposed Kaesong as a neutral capital if Pyongyang and Seoul were ever to agree to a peaceful merger.

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Farflung Christmas Memories

1971 – I was only weeks away from my Army ETS date at Ft. Gordon, GA. My brother had just finished his first semester at Berea College, KY. The rest of the family was across the Pacific, so I took the Greyhound bus up to Berea so we could have our own minireunion. The transfer terminal at Corbin, KY, still sold the old small bottles of Coke for 5 cents. The few Berea students who hadn’t been able to go home for the holidays were consolidated into one dorm to save on heating. Most seemed to be Asian students living on ramen noodles, but I was determined to take my brother to the nicest (well, the only nice) place in town, Boone Tavern Hotel, where he worked as a bellhop, using up far more Brasso in one day on the old elevator cage doors than I used up in my entire 996 days in the Army. Berea College, which U.S. News ranked #1 in the South for 2004, charges no tuition but requires 100% of its students to work for the college and its assorted enterprises (for rather meager wages, it’s true). Unfortunately for us that Christmas Day, Boone Tavern required not only a coat-and-tie, but advance reservations. Nowhere else within walking distance was open, so our elegant Christmas dinner turned out to be individual-sized frozen pizzas from 7-Eleven.

1976 – I was nearing the end of my language fieldwork in a tiny village on the north coast of New Guinea between Salamaua and Morobe Patrol Post. There was a special Christmas service. Most of the village kids were home from their boarding schools. (The village was too small to have its own school.) A young pastor from the village had returned. Most of the church services–and all of the hymns–were in Jabêm, the church language of the German Lutheran mission from Neuendettelsau in Bavaria, but this pastor was determined to reach the younger audience by translating the sermon into Tok Pisin, the English-based pidgin that is the de facto national language of Papua New Guinea. Like so many Christmas services, this one had a children’s pageant. But, unlike most, this one featured swineherds guarding their swine by night rather than shepherds guarding their sheep. When the kids who played the swine began snorting and squealing like real pigs, the village hunting dogs went berserk.

1983 – After a rather grim autumn in Bucharest, Romania, Mrs. Far Outlier and I bought roundtrip train tickets to Budapest and Vienna for Christmas. Unfortunately, the CFR (Cai Ferate Romaniei [= Chemin de fer de la Roumanie]) foreign exchange cashier had sold us only one ticket for the two berths in our sleeping compartment. When the car attendant discovered this, he was very distressed until I paid him in Romanian lei for the second berth and threw in a complimentary pack of Kent cigarettes, the universal foreign exchange medium bribe in Romania (the universal cue being Avets Kents ‘Do you have Kents?’). At the first stop, in Ploiesti, a passenger got on, schlepped his luggage down the hallway, looked into our compartment, saw two people occupying it, and uttered, in English, “Oh, shit.” The car attendant no doubt earned a second pack of Kents that night. Compared to Bucharest, Budapest seemed like heaven–clean and orderly, with real coffee, well-stocked store shelves, and even pedestrian-crossing buttons at intersections. But, compared to Budapest, Vienna was even more heavenly, but also more expensive. We sampled mulled wine at the Kristkindelmarkt, saw Die Fledermaus at the Staatsoper on Christmas Eve, and heard (but couldn’t really see) the Wiener Singer Knaves on Christmas Day.

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Koreans in Olympic Marathons

In the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, where Jesse Owens won 4 gold medals for the U.S., two Korean marathon runners, Sohn Kee-chung and Nam Sung-yong, brought home gold and bronze medals for Japan while running on the Japanese team under their Japanized names, Son Kitei and Nan Shoryu. Japan annexed Korea in 1910 and occupied it until 1945.

When the Korean Dong-A Ilbo newspaper printed a photograph of Son after his performance, it erased the image of the Japanese flag that was on Son’s uniform. This action resulted in the governor general of Korea banning publication of the paper and arresting its president, as well as expelling organs of public opinion.

Sohn went on to chair several Korean sports organizations and was among those who carried the Olympic flame at the Seoul Olympics in 1988. Although his medal is still credited to Japan by both the IOC and Japan OC, Sohn lived to see the sweet day, 56 years after Berlin, when his countryman Hwang Young-cho made history in the marathon that capped the Barcelona Olympics in 1992, by outlasting Japan’s Koichi Morishita after they doggedly traded the lead again and again during the long plod up the slopes of Montjuic.

Sohn died in November 2002 at the age of 90.

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The Honolulu Marathon

On Sunday, December 14, Jimmy Muindi of Kenya won the 2003 Honolulu Marathon Men’s Division in 2:12:59, exactly the time his countryman Mbarak Hussein achieved last year. Kenyans J. Muindi, M. Hussein, Benson Masya, and Ibrahim Hussein (the men’s record holder) have won the Men’s Division nearly every year since 1985. The only ones who have been able to displace them have been Gianni Poli of Italy in 1988, Simon Robert Naali of Tanzania in 1989-90, Bong Ju Lee of Korea in 1993, and Josia Thugwane of South Africa in 1995.

In the Women’s Division, Carla Beurskens of the Netherlands won 8 out of 10 years between 1985 and 1994. Most of the following years were dominated by runners from Russia and Kyrgyzstan: Ramila Burangulova, Svetlana Vasilieva, Irina Bogacheva, Lyubov Morgunova (the women’s record holder), and Svetlana Zakharova. But in 2003, Eri Hayakawa became the first champion from Japan, with a time of 2:31:56. Almost every year since 1989, about one-half to two-thirds of the entrants in the Honolulu Marathon have come from Japan. A total of 246,778 have entered since 1973.

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His Majesty O’Keefe

The Micronesian Seminar is an incomparable resource on all things Micronesian. Among its many projects is a compilation entitled Beachcombers, Traders, and Castaways in Micronesia. Here’s what it has to say about His Majesty O’Keefe, the subject of a thoroughly forgettable 1953 movie starring Burt Lancaster, Benson Fong (who had starred in several Charlie Chan films), and Philip Ahn (a Korean American who often played Japanese villains).

David Dean O’Keefe was born in Ireland in 1828 (or 1824). He immigrated to the US in 1848 and made his home in Savannah. He captained ships in the off-shore trade. In 1871, he set sail on the “Belvedere” for Manila. In 1872, he first arrived on Yap aboard the junk “Wrecker”. He worked in Yap until at least 1875 for Webster & Cook of Singapore. After this he began trading on his own. O’Keefe established a string of trade stations on Yap, Palau and Mapia. He acquired several small vessels during this period which he used to visit his stations and bring his copra to Hong Kong. He came to dominate the copra trade on Yap through his strategy of providing Yapese with transportation to Palau for the quarrying of the stone cylinders that were used as money. O’Keefe was married to a woman on Mapia, but his second wife (Dalibu) lived with him on Yap and ran his home and headquarters at Terang Island in Yap Harbor. O’Keefe, always the center of controversy, was charged by other traders with a vast array of crimes, but most of the charges were dismissed by British authorities. O’Keefe had several children, who lived with him on Yap. He died while at sea in a typhoon in 1901, leaving a fortune of at least half a million dollars.

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Yap, Micronesia

Mr. and Mrs. Outlier first crossed paths on the island of Yap, in Micronesia, him rather indirectly by way of the War Corps and her more directly by way of the Peace Corps. Even though the former enlistment was somewhat less than totally voluntary, this only confirms U.S. regional stereotypes. Southerners disproportionately populate, not only the War Corps, but also the Missionary Corps, while Midwesterners seem disproportionately to volunteer for the Peace Corps. Among the puddings that prove the latter point is the website about Yap by an ex-PCV reporter at the Kansas City Star. The photo galleries are especially recommended.

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