Park Chung-hee, center with sunglasses, visits then U.S. President John F. Kennedy in Washington, D.C., U.S. Nov. 14, 1961. Courtesy of JFK Library

I've often made the argument that history in Korean society is one of the most dangerous topics to explore. One is obliged to consider sensitivity rather than facts, to be cognizant of the prevailing national mood, and to tread carefully around issues of colonization, culture, and important figures. The trepidation one feels is added to by the presence of national defamation laws which can see people sued for saying things about people, living or dead, that might affect their reputation in a negative manner, even if what is said is true. Consider that rather complex sentence one more time to make sure you understand it. You can get sued for defamation even if you are telling the truth.

This week, I sat with various mixed groups of international and Korean students discussing the country's modernization, steering them through the theories of Chang Kyung-sup, explaining the new village movement, highlighting the women in the factories, and making them aware of the conscious national drive to create a developed country in the eyes of the western world in time for the Seoul 88 Olympics. This last aspect is brought to life brilliantly by Lee Tae-woong's KBS documentary "88/18."

Park Chung-hee

The foreign students all centered on one question: Who is this Park Chung-hee chap the professor keeps mentioning? During the break, they turned and asked their Korean classmates completely innocently about the man who ruled the country for nearly two decades with heavy-handed methods, dragging the people out of farms and into urbanized living spaces. They were greeted with uncomfortable silences and people looking furtively at their shoes. Few wanted to say anything.

It is not easy for young people to have an opinion on Park Chung-hee in modern Korea, but this hesitancy is completely alien to their foreign counterparts who speak openly about their leaders past and present. Just as some western students might suddenly go quiet when faced with questions about trans issues, toilets, or pronouns, preferring to stay anonymous and out of the crosshairs of the progressives, so too do many Korean people prefer to stay silent on the issues of history. "Just agree with everyone else" is normally the name of the game.

It's certainly much more pleasant to have opinions on the glorious figures of the past (King Sejong the Great, Admiral Lee Sun-sin, Ahn Jung-geun) or the more despicable characters of recent years (Chun Doo-hwan, Kim Jong-il). When you are faced with someone like Park Chung-hee, however, things become a bit more complicated. And yet, despite that, two students this week took the plunge.

A woman speaks

The first was a young adult at the Woman's University. Towards the end of the class, and without prompting, she raised her hand to speak to the group. Eyes quickly glanced towards her. Korean students normally prefer using their nunchi and not asking questions. Better for everyone to finish early and the individual to ask something once the class is over. This student, however, was determined to say what was on her mind. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what to expect.

"This will sound strange to some people in here because this is a woman's university and we are not supposed to like him. However, I think Park Chung-hee did good things for our country and helped build Korea. I'm really not saying that I like his party. I don't. And as women, we shouldn't like his party. But I think Park Chung-hee was helpful to make Korea modern. Without him, we might still be poor. I think he was an important Korean person and people should know about him."

The observations about what is expected of women and their political allegiances at university was just as interesting to me as someone having the courage to speak about Park. She was saying the quiet parts out loud. After the class was over, most of the foreign students rushed to that young woman and asked for her Insta ID. They had finally found someone willing to say something. The other Korean students noticed this. "So that's how you make foreign friends?", their reactions screamed into the void.

And that is the key thing. It's not about the particular opinion one holds. People disagree about everything, including whether it's hot or not (it is), whether Suga did a bad thing (feels like a media distraction from bigger issues), or whether the popular Dubai chocolate is any good (not really). It's not so much where you stand but that that you are willing to give voice to your opinion in the first place. Of course we run the danger of people opining on everything and anything despite not knowing much about what they say, but ignorance is the first step to knowledge and freedom is to be cherished. Korea is a free and open democracy whatever the tabloids of TikTok might tell you. And while people will argue night and day about Bang Si-hyuk's appearance or the safety of electric cars, they suddenly go quiet on the man that ruled the country for 18 years?

A man joins

The second student that was willing to say something about Park was a male student at Hanyang. The room was silent until I decided, in my normal fashion, to get the voices of youth involved. While students are given discussion time with each other, I also call on people during the lecture. I can't help it. I was raised by Plato, not Confucius.

"What do you think of Park and his role in Korean history and modernization?", I asked, fully aware I was perhaps unfairly putting this young gentleman on the spot in a room full of his peers and international colleagues. Again, the foreigners looked on keenly, the Korean people held their breath or coughed nervously.

"Park Chung-hee was a dictator who did horrible things to the people of our country. He killed many citizens and stopped democracy many times. His policies were terrible and he only cared about his own power."

I was impressed the young man knew something about the various constitutional amendments Park had enacted to ultimately make himself ruler for life. So I decided to follow up with a couple more questions. "Did he do anything good for the country or was his rule largely negative?" This was clearly not a question the chap wanted to answer. He ummed and ahhed for a while before talking about something unrelated that few of us could make out. My nunchi was working and I could see it was time to move on, so I thanked him for his courage.

The final irony

The final question was sent to a group of Korean students sat at the front. "How do your grandparents feel about Park?" One immediately launched into a loud and rather humorous description of how every Chuseok they are subjected to odes to Park by their elderly relatives. The others chuckled and nodded their heads. They could agree on one thing: Many old people like Park Chung-hee. Not all of them, of course. Some were imprisoned or suffered brutal treatment. But of those in the class, there were a large number who would suggest that Park was generally viewed positively by the older generation.

And that is a wonderful irony. Many (though what percent I would not want to suggest here) who lived under Park Chung-hee think positively of him. In contrast, the young people who often know very little about his rule, his policies, or the surrounding history, and were born decades after his death, despise him.

I suggested that particular irony might be fun to talk about. And by the same extent, what might people of the future think about our policies and values today? Might they not look back and despise us like we do our elders?

And then it was time to leave class. Perhaps next time we'll watch "The Man Standing Next," read Carter Eckert's book on Park, and then listen to my friend Steve Shields talk about his experiences working for him. Or maybe I'll be a good professor and stop asking young people about the history of their country and talk about dramas, K-pop, and celebrities instead. That's an easy way to stay out of trouble.

David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.