Breaking Boundaries in Literature: The Nobel Prize and Korea's Untold Stories

Chater 1.1 Veiled Narratives: Nobel Prize and Its Biased Allure

I found myself lost in thought, pondering why world literature is evaluated in such a manner. The emotions and experiences felt here in Seoul could scarcely reach the hallowed halls of the Swedish Academy. "The Swedes do not understand Korean sentiment," I mused. They appraised literature through their own criteria, shaped by a European leftist tide. The unique emotional landscape of Koreans, intertwined with the peculiarities of our armistice, is anything but simple. Moreover, I found the Western perspective on the East's past bewildering.

Conversely, I considered Sweden. Is it fair to judge that nation through a lens clouded by misconceptions, failing to grasp its historical context or the very concept of the Nobel Prize? "Sweden has never been under Soviet influence," I reflected, relying on mere snippets of information gleaned from the internet. "Unlike the Baltic states or Eastern European countries that were subjected to Soviet control, Sweden maintained its neutrality after World War II and has cultivated democratic values."

If I were to assess Sweden through such a simplistic viewpoint, wouldn't they have every right to criticize my narrow-mindedness? What folly it is for me, as a Korean, to pass judgment on a culture I hardly comprehend.

This is literature that has received international acclaim...

The shadow of Bukhansan loomed over my apartment complex, mingling with my thoughts. Here, the divides of gender, left and right, Confucian authority, and the pursuit of freedom collide, overshadowed by the constant, looming threat of North Korea.

"First in suicide rates, first in low birth rates, and the least happy among OECD countries."

Whose history is it anyway? "Facts do not exist. Only interpretations remain." These were the words of the European master, Nietzsche. Regardless of the truth surrounding any historical event, we must keep open the door for interpretation, engaging in ongoing discourse that reflects the nuances of time and culture. Yet, in South Korea, the democratic movement has been relegated to a completed chapter, with no room for further discussion. The very act of distorting or defaming events like the Gwangju Uprising can lead to legal repercussions. Is this law merely a safeguard for past wounds, or does it serve to impose a particular ideology? Can such coercive measures truly be justified in a democratic society? Do Europeans grasp this sentiment? While the identities of those who fought for the cause remain undisclosed under the pretext of protecting their safety, the number of these heroes continues to rise, while the public's right to know is increasingly curtailed. "We interpret it this way, so you must accept this narrative."

Literature naturally intertwines with politics and ideology. Whether in novels, poetry, or plays, works inevitably reflect the spirit of their time. Yet, why must a Nobel Prize-winning work lean towards a singular perspective? Why must it depend on a simplistic binary thinking that overlooks the complexities of Korea's historical context? This is a source of my discontent. Were all those who fought in Gwangju inherently virtuous? Are all soldiers inherently evil?

In the years to come, our nation will see an intensifying struggle between the left and the right—a clash that mirrors the very image you envisioned. They will attack each other, sowing a myriad of social conflicts, fostering mutual hatred. Just because Europe leans left doesn't mean we, in this armistice-bound country, must follow suit.

Yet, why does the call to overcome this binary thinking persist, echoing louder than ever? With every decision made, my trust and disappointment in global organizations only grow. Beyond the Nobel Prize for Literature and Peace, it seems these institutions have long been puppets dancing to the tune of great powers.

The UN has lost its original neutral role, morphing into a mouthpiece for the interests of the powerful. The IMF, during the 1997 financial crisis in Korea, forced us into restructuring while prioritizing its own economic gains. Similarly, the WTO, under the guise of trade liberalization, weakened the economic sovereignty of developing nations, reinforcing the dominion of wealthier states. Somewhere along the line, these global organizations strayed far from their original ideals and goals.