Populist Collaborators: The Ilchinhoe and the Japanese Colonization of Korea, 1896–1910 0801450411, 9780801450419

Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations
Author’s Note
Introduction
1. The Korean Reformers and the Late Choson State
2. People and Foreigners: The Northwestern Provinces, 1896– 1904
3. Sensational Campaigns: The Russo- Japanese War and the Ilchinhoe’s Rise, 1904– 1905
4. Freedom and the New Look: The Culture and Rhetoric of the Ilchinhoe Movement
5. The Populist Contest: The Ilchinhoe’s Tax Resistance, 1904– 1907
6. Subverting Local Society: Ilchinhoe Legal Disputes, 1904– 1907
7. The Authoritarian Resolution: The Ilchinhoe and the Japanese, 1904– 1910
Conclusion
Index

Citation preview

POPULIST COLLABORATORS

POPULIST COLLABORATORS The Ilchinhoe and the Japanese Colonization of Korea, 1896–1910 Yumi Moon

CORNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS

ITHACA AND LONDON

Cornell University Press gratefully acknowledges receipt of a subvention from the Korean Studies Program at Stanford University that assisted in the publication of this book. Copyright © 2013 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. First published 2013 by Cornell University Press Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Moon, Yumi. Populist collaborators : the Ilchinhoe and the Japanese colonization of Korea, 1896–1910 / Yumi Moon. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8014-5041-9 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Korea—Politics and government—1864–1910. 2. Ilchinhoe. 3. Korea— Foreign relations—Japan. 4. Japan—Foreign relations—Korea. I. Title. DS915.25.M66 2013 951.9'02—dc23 2012037115 Cornell University Press strives to use environmentally responsible suppliers and materials to the fullest extent possible in the publishing of its books. Such materials include vegetable-based, low-VOC inks and acid-free papers that are recycled, totally chlorine-free, or partly composed of nonwood fibers. For further information, visit our website at www.cornellpress.cornell.edu. Cloth printing

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Contents

Acknowledgments Abbreviations Author’s Note

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Introduction

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The Korean Reformers and the Late Choson State

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2.

People and Foreigners: The Northwestern Provinces, 1896–1904

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Sensational Campaigns: The Russo-Japanese War and the Ilchinhoe’s Rise, 1904–1905

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Freedom and the New Look: The Culture and Rhetoric of the Ilchinhoe Movement

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The Populist Contest: The Ilchinhoe’s Tax Resistance, 1904–1907

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Subverting Local Society: Ilchinhoe Legal Disputes, 1904–1907

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The Authoritarian Resolution: The Ilchinhoe and the Japanese, 1904–1910

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Conclusion

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Index

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Ac know ledg ments

A few choices, made without imagining their long-term results, have shaped my life. I wrote this book with deep sympathy for people who tried hard to change their lives but became bewildered by the progress of history. Luckily, many good people have helped me survive the results of my choices, whether made from innocence or from ignorance. I must first thank my teachers. Carter Eckert, my advisor at Harvard, gave me both intellectual inspiration and space to grow as a historian. He recognized the importance of my work beyond what any graduate student might dream of receiving from her advisor and never failed to express his confidence in my academic capability. With his continuous encouragement, valuable criticism, and warm personal advice, I was able to withstand my difficult moments at Harvard and subsequently at Stanford. I also thank Edward Baker, who admitted me as the Harvard-Yenching visiting fellow and gave me the chance to begin a new academic career in the United States. His support and understanding provided breathing space during my years at Harvard. Sun Joo Kim has guided me with her academic expertise, her exemplary career as a Korean historian, and her warmth and wisdom. She included my work in her conference panels and in her book and also contributed detailed comments on drafts of chapters for this book. Andrew Gordon introduced me to modern Japanese history and amazed me with his academic rigor and precision. Due to his criticism and advice, I was able to rethink my work in the historiography of the Japanese Empire. Iriye Akira let me audit his courses in international history, read my research, and acknowledged its academic contribution with encouragement. Sugata Bose introduced me to the major debates on colonialism and postcolonialism in the history of South Asia. I also thank Albert Craig for his teaching in Meiji history, Milan Hejtmanek for igniting my interest in the history of the Choson dynasty, Bernard Bailyn for his course on methodology in history, and Daniel Botsman, Mikael Adolphson, and the late Harold Bolitho in the Japanese history seminar for their criticism at the earliest stage of my research. It is a blessing that I have been able to continue my academic communication with my advisors at Seoul National University. I especially thank Yong-chool Ha, Young-sun Ha, Jung-woon Choi, and Young-kwan Yoon for their teaching and personal encouragement. Many colleagues at Stanford University and elsewhere read the drafts of this book and gave me valuable comments. Kyung Moon Hwang, Kyu Hyun Kim, vii

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Andre Schmid, and Theodore Jun Yoo read the manuscript and offered criticisms and suggestions for revising it. Thanks to the advice of Matt Sommer, I was able to organize a seminar at Stanford on a draft of the book. Mark Lewis, Tom Mullaney, Gi-Wook Shin, Matt Sommer, Jun Uchida, and Kären Wigen joined the seminar and helped me with their insightful questions and comments. Peter Duus kindly read my manuscript and suggested key areas where it could be improved. My departmental mentors at Stanford, Gordon Chang, Estelle Freedman, and David Holloway, guided my professional development with knowledge and thoughtfulness. I also must mention the colleagues who wrote letters for my permanent residency to the U.S. Immigration Office: Nam Hee Lee and Clark Sorenson, as well as Carter Eckert, Kyung Moon Hwang, Theodore Jun Yoo, and Kyu Hyun Kim. Professors Tae-Gyun Park, Kun-sik Chung, and Yonguk Chung at Seoul National University aided my research or introduced me to important scholars during my visits to Seoul. The two anonymous readers for Cornell University Press gave me valuable comments to make my manuscript conceptually more coherent. I also benefited from anonymous reviewers for the American Historical Review, whose comments on my article have been incorporated into the introduction and other chapters of this book. I also learned a lot from the discussants and audiences at my various presentations at Association for Asian Studies annual meetings, Harvard University, the University of California at Berkeley, the University of British Columbia, Seoul National University, and the University of Southern California, and at the University of Washington in Seattle and Princeton University. Stanford students in my course on colonialism and collaboration helped me clarify my arguments on collaboration and surprised me with their sincere interest in the subject. I also miss and thank my fellow students during my graduate years. Many of them are now teaching at academic institutions. They include Chong Bum Kim, Jiwon Shin, Jin K. Robertson, Mark Byington, Hyung Gu Lynn, John Frankl, Eugene Park, Tae Yang Kwak, Jungwon Kim, Sue Jean Cho, Izumi Nakayama, Emer O’Dwyer, Yoichi Nakano, Marjan Boogert, Chiho Sawada, the late Scott Swaner, and many others. Among them, Michael Kim read my research and offered sharp critiques and editing suggestions. The Korean staff at the HarvardYenching Library, Choong Nam Yoon, Seunghi Paek, and Hyang Lee, always responded to my requests with kindness. Dr. Kyungmi Chun, the Korean librarian at Stanford, established the Korea Collection from scratch and allowed me to continue my work with ease. K. E. Duffin, my writing advisor at Harvard, and Victoria R. M. Scott, my current editor, have made my English prose more readable. I especially thank Victoria for answering urgent last-minute requests with generosity and professionalism. Roger Haydon at Cornell University Press has been a wonderful editor. I am grateful for his intelligence and judgment.

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Throughout my academic journey to date, my work life has relied completely on the patience and assistance of my family. My husband has endured our unusual married life with compassion and responsibility. My two children have patiently borne their mom’s long working hours and absence from school field trips and the like. I hope they understand my love for them and my struggles to be home with them. Throughout my years in the United States, my parents have always remained on my side, listening to my dreams and worries. My mother has been the ultimate source of support in overcoming frustrations and moving on. This book is dedicated to her for her inspiration and love. Parts of this book have been published earlier in my “Immoral Rights: Korean Populist Reformers and the Japanese Colonization of Korea,” American Historical Review 118, no. 1 (February 2013); “Minkwon kwa Cheguk: Kukwon Sangsilgi Minkwon Kaenyom ui Yongpop kwa Pyonhwa, 1896–1910” (Rights and Empire: The Concept of Popular Rights and Its Changes during the Period of the Great Korean Empire, 1896–1910), in Ha Yong-son and Son Yol, eds., Kundae Han’guk ui Sahoe Kwahak Kaenyom Hyongsongsa (The History of Social Science Concepts in Modern Korea), vol. 2 (Seoul: Ch’angjak kwa Pip’yongsa, 2012); and “From Periphery to a Transnational Frontier: Popular Movements in the Northwestern Provinces, 1896–1904,” in Sun Joo Kim, ed., The Northern Region of Korea: History, Identity, and Culture (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2010). I am thankful to the publishers and editors of the article and the book chapters for allowing me to use their contents in this book.

Abbreviations

CNKK CTS DTGR ID IG IH KD KSKR KSTN MCYR NKGH NKGSS

Chukan Nihon Koshikan Kiroku Chosen Tochi Shiryo Daito Gapporon Independent Imperial Gazetteer Wonhan’guk Ilchinhoe Yoksa Korea Daily News Kwanso Kyerok Kaksa Tungnok Maech’on Yarok Nikkan Gappo Hishi Nikkan Gaiko Shiryo Shusei

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Author’s Note

Romanization of Korean follows the McCune-Reischauer system. The Royal Treasury of Korea refers to the Naejangwon from 1895 and 1905 and to the Kyongniwon from March 1905 to December 1907. The title of Kojong changed from king to emperor after October 1897, the beginning of the Great Korean Empire. The records of the Korean government followed the Gregorian calendar after January 1896.

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INTRODUCTION

The Scandals of Pro-Japanese Collaboration in 2004 In March 2004, almost sixty years after the nation’s liberation in 1945, the South Korean national assembly passed a law, in the name of “purification of the nation’s history” (kwagosa ch’ongsan), for the purpose of “investigating proJapanese acts” during colonial rule.1 Unexpectedly, the act provoked a series of scandals that shattered the political prospects of prominent ruling party leaders. Sin Ki-nam, the chair of Yollin Uri Party at the time, featured in the most dramatic and excruciating case. Sin initiated a “committee for truth, reconciliation, and the future” on August 1, 2004, saying that “the problems of the past were not personal but a long-delayed historical issue. Since the democratic and reformist party rules the national assembly, we should clear the issues and move forward.”2 As a “moderate,” Sin proudly reiterated that his father had earned a national honor for his contribution to subduing the Communist partisans during the Korean War. However, one citizen had voiced suspicion about Sin’s father’s past on a political website, Chinbonuri (The Progressive World), on July 13, 2004. The citizen wrote that the new law excluded from investigation the rank of Japanese police officials known as ojang, equivalent to noncommissioned 1. “Kwagosa Chinsang kyumyong: Chinsil kwa hwahae, kurigo mirae,” Weekly Kyonghyang, August 27, 2004; Pomnyul che 7937 ho (the law of the Republic of Korea, no. 7937), “Ilche kangjomha panminjok haengwi chinsang kyumyong e kwanhan t’ukpyolbop,” from Kukhoe pomnyul Chisik chongbo sisutem, http://likms.assembly.go.kr/law/jsp/main.jsp. 2. “Sin Ki-nam ch’inil kwallyon paronnok,” Han’guk Ilbo, August 17, 2004. 1

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officers (hasagwan) during the colonial period. The writer insinuated that Sin might have intentionally omitted the ojang because his father, Sin Sang-muk, had held that rank in the Japanese gendarmerie. The article caught the attention of the mainstream media and triggered a national controversy. The citizen found records indicating that Sin’s father had passed the entrance exam for the Japanese army and had joined the Japanese military police in the Taegu area. The citizen had a personal motive: his grandfather had been tortured in Taegu jail for participation in the independence movement and had died at the age of 51 from the aftereffects.3 Chairman Sin initially denounced the article as false. Then two registrars of the independence movement came forward and identified Sin’s father by his Japanese name, Shigemitsu Kunio. They testified that Shigemitsu, a kunjo (sergeant) in the Japanese gendarmerie, had tortured them.4 Public resentment came to a boil when Kim Chu-sok, son of an independence movement participant, wrote in the journal Sindonga that Shigemitsu had tortured Kim’s father for forty days, leaving the lower half of his body paralyzed. Kim’s father, who became an art teacher after liberation, had completed a memoir, with twenty of his own illustrations of the torture scenes, in 1983, a decade before his death.5 Chairman Sin responded that he had been dimly aware that his father had entered the Japanese army but had never known exactly what his father had done. Some Koreans were sympathetic to Sin’s ordeal, saying that he was not responsible for his father’s deeds and that he had become a victim of guilt-by-association accusations in the media. But Sin could neither avoid responsibility for initially covering up his father’s past nor put to rest public suspicion that he had intentionally excluded his father’s rank from the committee’s investigation. Sin resigned as party chair.6 The conservative media then examined the backgrounds of ruling party politicians and reported whose fathers had been in the Japanese police or in the colonial administration.7 The scandals demoralized the ruling party and made the “purification of history project” an anachronistic farce.8 The government committee closed its investigation by publishing a list of pro-Japanese traitors. Among the “traitors” named in the 2006 report were 3. Media Daum, August 18, 2004. 4. Tonga Ilbo, August 18, 2004; Choson Ilbo, August 18, 2004. 5. Sindonga, December 2004. 6. Tonga Ilbo, August 19, 2004. 7. “Yi ch’ongni ‘Choson Tonga ka nae sonagwi e’ sokttut un,” Choson Ilbo, October 21, 2004. 8. “Chei Sin Ki-nam i naomyon kuttchang,” Choson Ilbo, August 19, 2004. Other leaders in the ruling party, such as Kim Kun-t’ae and Yi Mi-gyong, survived the scandals. But Kim Hui-son, a famous leader of the feminist movement during the democratization period, fell because she had advertised herself as the granddaughter of the legendary Independent Army general Kim Chwa-jin, whereas in fact her father had been a lower-level agent for the Japanese police in Manchuria. “Kim hui-son uiwon puch’in un manjuguk t’ungmu kyongch’al,” Choson Ilbo, October 18, 2004.

INTRODUCTION

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twenty-seven members of the Ilchinhoe (Advance in Unity Society)—the 1904– 1910 organization that is the subject of this book. These men were deemed to have been traitors for the following reasons: (1) they had organized the aides to assist “voluntary defense guards” (chawidan wonhohoe) on November 19, 1907, to counter Korean anti-Japanese guerrillas, the “Righteous Armies,” who opposed Japanese colonization; (2) they had been Ilchinhoe branch chairs or had held important positions on the Ilchinhoe council (Ilchinhoe p’yonguihoe); (3) they had published statements justifying the Japanese persecution of the Righteous Armies; (4) they had signed the Ilchinhoe’s petition requesting that Japan annex Korea; or (5) they had received awards for their aid to the Japanese army during the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905). The committee defined these acts as “voluntary assistance to Japan’s colonization of Korea” and a contribution to the “active destruction of Korean resistance for independence.”9 The scandals of 2004 surprised the Korean public because a fair number of well-known Korean elites, regardless of their current political affiliation, were exposed to charges about their ancestors’ “treason.” The public also confronted several questions: What kinds of collaborative acts were more unbearable? Could Shigemitsu’s case be equated with those of other Koreans who had worked with the Japanese for a living? And more fundamentally, what did it mean to be “collaborative” in the colonial period? The committee accomplished virtually nothing in the face of these questions. It confirmed that some famous historical figures had conducted pro-Japanese acts and recorded their names so that they would not be forgotten in history. As the committee’s list was by no means complete, the project wasted the opportunity to investigate more severe crimes or to disclose the complexity of listed cases. The project neither advanced any new historical findings about the scope and character of Korean collaboration under the Japanese nor provided any meaningful intellectual grounds to help the public think about the topic.

Collaboration in Colonial Situations Given the public condemnation of pro-Japanese collaboration in Korea and China, historians face the question of whether or not they should pursue a moral inquiry in studying collaboration.10 A recent issue of the Journal of

9. Chi’nil panminok haengwi chinsang kyumyong wiwonhoe chosa sam kwa, “Che il ch’a chosa taesangja (yejong) simui charyo,” May 19, 2006, pp. 1–3. 10. Robert B. Westbrook, “History and Moral Inquiry,” Modern Intellectual History 9, no. 2 (August 2012): 389–408.

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Asian Studies juxtaposes the two different answers to that question.11 John W. Treat suggests that a “posterior ethical review” of collaboration is possible and necessary. Referring to Western moral theories when contemplating European collaboration under the Nazis, Treat criticizes the moral reasoning of the renowned Korean intellectual Yi Kwang-su (1892–1950) and Yi’s defense of his pro-Japanese acts during the colonial period. Treat’s analysis awakens us to the moral responsibilities that we might have confronted had we been in Yi’s situation and made similar choices following his logic. But Treat’s posterior review runs the risk of anachronism and does not provide a stable historical reference, except for Treat’s own moral theory, for “judging” collaborators, especially given the fact that the moral problems of the Japanese occupation in East Asia have been sidelined, if not silenced, in the recent historiography of the Japanese empire. Thus, Timothy Brook argues that Treat’s approach may reproduce historians’ own moral values rather than salvaging those of historical actors. Brook recommends a “historicization” which is “not to create moral knowledge, but to probe the presuppositions that bring the moral subject of the collaborator into being for us, and then ask whether real collaborators correspond to this moral subject.”12 In my view, Brook’s “historicization” is insufficient because the moral crises of collaborators did not always originate from the gap between their own values and “our presuppositions” in hindsight, but often from their failure to justify their own positions within the historical context of colonial rule or occupation. Brook does not make it clear that such “presuppositions” critical of collaboration are not entirely contingent on political expediency but include some beliefs in right and wrong, and that those beliefs in justice helped certain presuppositions prevail in the public consciousness in a once-occupied society. Historians should legitimately problematize such “presuppositions” but also adequately interrogate what were indeed the “real moral subjects” of collaborators and why they became untenable under occupation. Some conceptual clarifications are required to study collaboration in colonial situations. Underlining the power of colonial culture and discourse, colonial studies in the past two decades have emphasized that colonizers and colonized were far from monolithic groups. Rather, they became culturally hybridized in multiple colonial encounters, so that the colonized did not remain a unified subject

11. John Whittier Treat, “Choosing to Collaborate: Yi Kwang-su and the Moral Subject in Colonial Korea,” Journal of Asian Studies 71, no. 1 (February 2012): 81–102; Timothy Brook, “Hesitating before the Judgment of History,” Journal of Asian Studies 71, no. 1 (February 2012): 103–114; Michael D. Shin, “Yi Kwang-su: The Collaborator as Modernist against Modernity,” Journal of Asian Studies 71, no. 1 (February 2012): 115–120. 12. Brook, “Hesitating before the Judgment of History,” p. 103. Italics in the original.

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of empire—or its passive victim. Frederick Cooper argues that the binary of collaboration and resistance is inadequate to frame the diverse interactions that occurred within and across empires.13 Empire, he suggests, is a potential stage for local actors to pursue opportunity, wealth, or even freedom, and he speculates that a linear connection between freedom and nation is inconsistent with what happens in history. Colonial studies in this perspective highlight the “tensions of empire” yet obscure the historical process of how and why the colonized in many regions did not accept colonial empires as a viable “political and moral community” and preferred non-imperial tracks, at least in principle, in forming a government after colonialism. Focused on the domestic and global agendas of empires, this paradigm neglects the dilemmas of local actors who in fact chased opportunities within empire and the profound “moral tensions” that they confronted in some, if not all, colonial situations. In this book I define “collaboration” as the “political engagements” of local actors to support a given colonial rule and to justify its sustenance in their society.14 Distinct from the broader “connections and conflicts” pervasive and inevitable in colonial encounters, collaboration by this definition involves political and normative suasions to legitimize local subordination to empire and often entails moral implications. Collaborators made their choices with diverse and in some cases even “ethical” motives, but they faced a political and moral crisis if they failed to justify the validity of their choices more broadly among the occupied. The term “collaboration” has strong negative connotations. The French historian Philippe Burrin argues that the term provokes polemics and prevents us from exploring the diverse adjustments that people make to the structural constraints of being occupied. Limiting the meaning of collaboration to “accommodation raised to the level of politics,”15 Burrin divides accommodation into 13. Frederick Cooper, “Conflict and Connection: Rethinking Colonial African History,” American Historical Review 99, no. 5 (December 1994): 1516–1545; Jane Burbank and Frederick Cooper, Empires in World History: Power and the Politics of Difference (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010), pp. 2–21, 219–229. 14. On different definitions of “collaboration,” see Stanley Hoffmann, France: Decline or Renewal? France since the 1930s (New York: Viking, 1974); Ronald Robinson, “Non-European Foundations of European Imperialism: Sketch for a Theory of Collaboration,” in Roger Owen and Bob Sutcliffe, eds., Studies of the Theory of Imperialism (London: Longman, 1972), pp. 117–142; Timothy Brook, Collaboration: Japanese Agents and Local Elites in Wartime China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), pp. 1–31; and Philippe Burrin, France under the Germans: Collaboration and Compromise (New York: New Press, 1996), pp. 1–63, 459–467. 15. Burrin, France under the Germans, p. 2. According to Jan T. Gross, collaboration is “a set of relationships between the occupiers and the occupied mediated by a set of officially existing institutions” through which the occupiers can garner authority in the occupied region. Gross, “Themes for a Social History of War Experience and Collaboration,” in István Deák, Jan T. Gross, and Tony Judt, eds., The Politics of Retribution in Europe: World War II and Its Aftermath (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), pp. 24–25.

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structural and deliberate forms. The structural form refers to the inevitable adjustments that make economy, public services, and everyday life flow even under occupation. The deliberate form includes opportunist and political accommodations that go “beyond a minimal adaptation” and “[amount] to providing material and moral assistance for the occupier’s policies.” Burrin argues that accommodation is a “regular phenomenon” in any foreign occupation and does not associate any moral connotations with the term.16 But not all occupations cause intense moral controversies about such human adjustments, and without the normative context of an occupation, it is not analytically clear how we should differentiate the structural from the deliberate. Brook, in his study of Chinese collaboration during World War II, suggests that historians should “look through the moral landscape to the political one underneath.” But as he soon admits, this “separation of the moral and the political” is methodologically limited when applied to the study of collaboration.17 Political power requires moral discourse to justify its existence, and collaborators also seek “normative justifications” of their conduct.18 The term “collaboration” and its moral connotations epitomize the specific historical moments where “assistance to an occupying power” had extraordinary moral ramifications and ultimately failed to legitimize its validity in the normative and material contexts of a society under conquest.19 Unlike in wartime Europe, collaboration may perhaps be deemed more acceptable in colonial situations, where diverse ethnic or religious communities had not already been subsumed under the rubric of a nation20 and thus found their identities blurred by competing cultural discourses forged under long foreign domination. In such circumstances, the compliance of a community with foreign powers has historically been tolerated, and some local actors indeed 16. Burrin, France under the Germans, pp. 460–463. 17. Brook, Collaboration, p. 4. 18. For an overview of politics and morality, see Peter Fabienne, “Political Legitimacy,” in Edward N. Zalta, ed., The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Summer 2010 ed., http://plato.stanford .edu/archives/sum2010/entries/legitimacy/. I also referred to Jürgen Habermas, Moral Consciousness and Communicative Action (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1990); Habermas, Justification and Application (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1993); and Habermas, “Deliberative Politics: A Procedural Concept of Democracy,” in Between Facts and Norms (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1996), pp. 287–328; Joseph Raz, Morality of Freedom (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986); Quentin Skinner, Liberty before Liberalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998); Skinner, Visions of Politics, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); and Faisal Devji, “Morality in the Shadow of Politics,” Modern Intellectual History 7, no. 2 (2010): 373–390. 19. It is important to study collaboration in the changing material and normative contexts of a conquered society and to investigate when and why collaborators were unable to defend themselves later if their choices were once regarded as valid. 20. As C. A. Bayly noted, in many parts of the world before 1850, nations were not dominant actors and the modern notion of sovereignty was not a familiar one. C. A. Bayly, Sven Becker, Matthew Connelly, Isabel Hofmeyr, Wendy Kozol, and Patricia Seed, “AHR Conversation: On Transnational History,” American Historical Review 111, no. 5 (December 2006): 1442, 1449.

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accommodated empire as a viable framework in which to obtain power, profits, or safety.21 Ronald Robinson calls this kind of compliance the requisite for European expansion. He defines collaboration as arrangements of mutual cooperation and bargaining between Europeans and their local agents in the context of an expanding free-trade regime.22 When empires could establish collaborative regimes with reliable non-European actors, Robinson argues, direct imperial conquests were neither imperative nor desirable. Discounting the metropolitan initiatives for colonial expansion, Robinson primarily attributes an empire’s shift to direct rule to a peripheral crisis—namely, “local disorder” and the surge of nationalism, which threaten an empire’s security interests on an international scale. Robinson discusses collaboration mainly from the viewpoint of an empire’s “rational” calculations of costs and benefits, and does not provide an adequate framework for examining the normative ramifications of European imperialism and the crises of local collaborative regimes once they had been established. Studying collaboration is a matter not of imposing an anachronistic moral framework onto the experiences of the past, but of understanding the choices and consequences of local actors in the changing political, normative, and material contexts of a conquered society. It is also important not to dismiss a certain moral consciousness of a conquered society as simply an “artifact” of the postcolonial nation-state, but to question why and how such consciousness emerged in a society and reshaped the society into a political community with distinctive characteristics.23 Collaboration does not deny the heterogeneity or multiplicity of human interactions in colonial contexts. The term by definition refers to the choices of 21. On local collaboration with empires, see Ivor Wilks, “Dissidence in Asante Politics,” in Forests of Gold: Essays on the Akan and the Kingdom of Asante (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1993), pp. 169–188; David Robinson, Paths of Accommodation: Muslim Societies and French Colonial Authorities in Senegal and Mauritania, 1880–1920 (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2001); Colin Newbury, “Patrons, Clients, and Empire: The Subordination of Indigenous Hierarchies in Asia and Africa,” Journal of World History 11, no. 2 (2000): 227–263; Keith David Watenpaugh, “Not Quite Syrians,” in Being Modern in the Middle East (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006), pp. 279–298; and Benjamin N. Lawrance, Emily Lynn Osborn, and Richard L. Roberts, eds., Intermediaries, Interpreters, and Clerks: African Employees in the Making of Colonial Africa (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006). Ranajit Guha also discusses the reformism of Anglicized Indian elites in the category of collaboration. See Guha, Dominance without Hegemony: History and Power in Colonial India (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998), pp. 1–99. 22. R. Robinson, “Non-European Foundations of European Imperialism,” p. 120. See also Ronald E. Robinson and John Gallagher, “The Imperialism of Free Trade,” Economic History Review, n.s., 6, no. 1 (1953): 1–15; Ronald E. Robinson et al., Africa and the Victorians: The Official Mind of Imperialism (London: Macmillan, 1961); and William Roger Louis, ed., Imperialism: The Robinson and Gallagher Controversy (New York: New Viewpoints, 1976). 23. In other words, it is crucial to place the choices of collaborators within the historical contexts of the time and to estimate how those choices were perceived within the empire in question. In some places collaborators were not morally stigmatized, but in other areas they were.

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local people who “crossed” the colonial binary and “worked with or for” colonizers.24 The concept of collaboration in this book, however, does connote the potential for moral strife vis-à-vis local submission to colonial rule. Moral strife was particularly likely when cultural, economic, or political ambivalence in a given colony could not override a forced hierarchy, nor erase the privileges of colonizers on the basis of their “racial superiority.” It remains important to investigate how ethnic heterogeneity or cultural hybridization in colonial situations was translated in political institutions and moral discourse, and whether or not such translations rendered marginal the distinction between colonizers and colonized.

Korean Reformers and the Japanese Empire This history of Korean collaboration significantly revises the historiography of the past several decades on the Japanese colonization of Korea—historiography in which the relationship between Korean reform and Japanese empire has been central and most controversial. The term “pro-Japanese” (ch’inil in Korean) means those who are close to Japan, but in modern Korean usage it immediately connotes “national traitors” who sold the country to Japan. At least before the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War, being pro-Japanese was not simply equated with being unpatriotic, and “Japan Party” was another term for the Korean reformers who rivaled the ruling “pro-Russian faction” in the Korean court. During the Japanese protectorate period of 1905–1910, “being close to Japan,” a viable choice for Korea’s reform, became equivalent to treason. “Korean reformers” here refers to the elites in the tradition of the “enlightenment school,” who had introduced Western and Japanese ideas, technologies, and institutions into Korean culture since the mid-nineteenth century and who tried to reform the Choson dynasty. These elites initiated the successive political movements for reform that led to the 1884 palace coup, the formation of the Kabo reformist cabinet in 1894, and the Independence Club Movement between 1896 and 1898. They perceived Japan’s progress after the Meiji Restoration in 1868 to have been beneficial and sought Japan’s assistance in their major political endeavors. The discourse of “civilization and enlightenment” (munmyong kaehwa) was a major ideological frame within which both the Korean reformers and the Japanese discussed politics, reform, and culture in Korea between 1896 and 1910. Andre 24. James Mace Ward, “Legitimate Collaboration: The Administration of Santo Tomás Internment Camp and Its Histories, 1942–2003,” Pacific Historical Review 77, no. 2 (2008): 159–201.

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Schmid argues in his book Korea between Empires that this language of “civilization and enlightenment” created structural dilemmas within Korean nationalist discourses and reform ideas because it offered tools for promoting the nation’s progress but simultaneously legitimized Korea’s subordination to Japan, a country with an advanced civilization.25 In my view, the discourse of civilization and enlightenment was not structurally bound to such dilemmas but rather open to generating multiple political visions. Such dilemmas or confusions rather signify a “global conjuncture” at which different historical actors simultaneously proposed diverse interpretations of enlightenment justifying their own political imperatives vis-à-vis Korea.26 The unfortunate consequence of this “conjuncture”—Japan’s colonization of Korea—was not necessarily derived from the language of enlightenment and its inherent complicity with imperialism, but resulted from the choices of historical actors and their relations power enforcing their own versions of a “reformed Korea.” Thus it is important to clarify the multiple positions of historical actors in the political dynamics of the period and to figure out what they meant by “reform,” despite the confusion and interpenetration observed in their discourses. The first step in this task is to analyze how Korea’s reform and Japan’s colonization of Korea have been narrated in the previous historiography. American historians of Japan have long underlined the link between Japan’s “civilizing discourses” and the Korean reform itself, portraying Japan as a “reformist” empire reluctant to annex Korea.27 Three important works in English are Hilary Conroy’s The Japanese Seizure of Korea (1960), Peter Duus’s The Abacus and the Sword (1995), and Alexis Dudden’s Japan’s Colonization of Korea (2005). Conroy argues that Meiji leaders formulated their Korea policies in a “framework of realistic enlightened self-interest” and attempted to construct a

25. Andre Schmid, Korea between Empires, 1895–1919 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), pp. 24–38. 26. Sebastian Conrad, “Enlightenment in Global History: A Historiographical Critique,” American Historical Review 117, no. 4 (2012): 1005–1009. 27. For major works on the Japanese empire in East Asia, see Ramon H. Myers and Mark R. Peattie, eds., The Japanese Colonial Empire, 1895–1945 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984); Peter Duus, Ramon H. Myers, and Mark R. Peattie, eds., The Japanese Informal Empire in China, 1895–1937 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989); Duus, Myers, and Peattie, eds., The Japanese Wartime Empire, 1931–1945 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996); Louise Young, Japan’s Total Empire: Manchuria and the Culture of Wartime Imperialism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998); Carter Eckert, Offspring of Empire: The Koch’ang Kims and the Colonial Origins of Korean Capitalism, 1876–1945 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1991); and Robert Eskildsen, “Of Civilization and Savages: The Mimetic Imperialism of Japan’s 1874 Expedition to Taiwan,” American Historical Review 107, no. 2 (April 2002): 388–418. Andre Schmid outlines the general problems of modern Japanese historiography on Korean questions in “Colonialism and the ‘Korea Problem’ in the Historiography of Modern Japan: A Review Article,” Journal of Asian Studies 59, no. 4 (November 2000): 951–976.

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“mutually acceptable Japan-Korea relationship.”28 Conroy maintains that until April 1909, Ito Hirobumi, the first resident-general of Korea, and his successor, Sone Arasuke, opposed the Yamagata-Katsura faction, which saw annexation as the ultimate solution to the Korean problem. Ito finally decided on annexation when his “enlightened” realism became caught up in the reactionary movement of Uchida Ryohei, the key figure of the Japanese rightist organization Kokuryukai (Black Dragon Society).29 Conroy writes that the Ilchinhoe was Uchida’s “instrument,” aiding Uchida’s maneuvering to dethrone the Korean monarch Kojong and to expedite the annexation. Peter Duus provides a more comprehensive narrative of the colonization and suggests an earlier date, mid-1907, for Ito’s final decision on annexation. He highlights two interacting agents of Japanese expansion in Korea: the Meiji metropolitan leadership and the Japanese settler community in Korea.30 Influenced by Ronald Robinson and John Gallagher, who attribute empire’s shift to formal rule to a peripheral crisis, Duus connects the Meiji leaders’ decision to annex Korea to the prospect of Korean reform. According to Duus, the original intention of the Meiji leaders was to replace a corrupt Korean government with a “rationally organized modern bureaucratic structure” analogous to that of the Meiji government.31 This Japanese attempt failed twice: first in 1894–1895 and again during Ito Hirobumi’s protectorate rule in 1905–1910.32 The first attempt failed as a result of the Triple Intervention and the “incompetence” of the Korean reformers. In the second attempt, after the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, Japan did not face any urgent external threat that made its formal rule of Korea imperative. Duus finds the reason for annexation in the Korean domestic 28. Conroy sees the Japanese seizure of Korea in terms of the emerging domestic rivalries among liberals, realists, and reactionaries in forging Meiji Japan’s foreign policy. In the context of these rivalries, the Meiji leaders’ political realism governed Japan’s Korean policies after the defeat of Seikan (Conquer Korea) advocates in 1873. The leaders contained the idealism of the liberals in the 1880s and 1890s and the inopportune expansionism of the reactionaries. Conroy rejects the “plot” hypothesis, which ascribes the Japanese annexation of Korea to Japan’s consistent expansionist policies since the Seikanron (Conquer Korea Debate) of the early 1870s. Hilary Conroy, The Japanese Seizure of Korea, 1868–1910: A Study of Realism and Idealism in International Relations (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1960). 29. According to Conroy, Japan attempted to construct “mutually acceptable Japan-Korea relations” in two stages. The first was from July 1894 to King Kojong’s flight to the Russian Legation in February 1896, after Japan’s murder of Queen Min. This attempt was terminated by the Triple Intervention. The second stage lasted much longer, from 1898 until annexation in August 1910. Using the example of the Meiji leaders’ failure, Conroy warned American Cold War politicians that political realism could easily lead to the waning of liberalism and the waxing of reaction in foreign policy. Conroy, Japanese Seizure of Korea, pp. 261–382. 30. Peter Duus, The Abacus and the Sword: The Japanese Penetration of Korea, 1895–1910 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), pp. 12, 24. These two agents played a key role in the political and economic penetration of Korea, which Duus intentionally divides into two narratives in his work. 31. Ibid., p. 72. 32. R. Robinson and Gallagher, “The Imperialism of Free Trade,” pp. 1–15; R. Robinson et al., Africa and the Victorians; Louis, Imperialism.

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situation—namely, in the “absence of reliable Korean political allies” that made Ito shift toward “de facto annexation” in late July 1907.33 Alexis Dudden’s work conceives the reformist politics of the protectorate as Japan’s discursive strategy to make its conquest of Korea legal and “intelligible to the international audience” of the time. In this framework, Japan’s “civilizing” mission in Korea was not what Japan “genuinely” intended but failed to accomplish because of Japanese rivalries or Korean incompetence. Rather, Japan’s mission was consistent with what Dudden calls the “enlightened exploitation” that international powers used to legalize their conquest of a place by defining its native inhabitants as “incapable of becoming civilized on their own.” Far from failing, she insists, Japan successfully demonstrated its mastery of this international language by branding Koreans as barbaric.34 Japan’s legal reforms in Korea garnered international recognition of the legality of Japan’s rule in Korea, abrogating extraterritoriality privileges there in 1913.35 Dudden is attentive to Korean dissent and to the pitfalls of Japan’s penal administration in colonial Korea, including its preservation of torture and flogging. But her asymmetrical focus on the Japanese discourse prevents her from fundamentally criticizing Conroy’s and Duus’s depiction of Japan as a “reluctant” and “reformist” empire and also from articulating what that “reform” meant to Koreans. It is still debatable whether the Meiji leadership, which had already colonized Taiwan in 1895, considered the option of a modernizing Korea as an ally, especially after waging a costly war with Russia. It is also questionable whether the decision to make Korea a formal colony was propelled primarily by the Korean domestic situation. In all three works, the history of Korean reformers during the Japanese protectorate remains an obscure side note. If the historiography of the Japanese empire has assumed the insufficiency, if not the absence, of Korean reform(ers) and their incompatibility with the “modernity” of Meiji imperialism, Korean nationalist historians have seen a problem in the very reliance of Korean reformers on the Japanese. A few scholars have tried to address the agency of Korean elites in the 1894 cabinet and their conflicts with more conservative Japanese approaches to Korea’s reform.36 However, nationalistic Korean historians devalue the accomplishments of reformers 33. Duus, Abacus and Sword, pp. 98, 220; on p. 241, Duus speculates that “Korea might well have maintained its independence if the Meiji leaders’ anxieties had been allayed by the emergence of a strong and actively modernizing Korean elite willing to rely on Japan for help.” 34. Dudden argues that this discursive construction of Korea as the “other” made Korea’s international appeal for its sovereignty irrelevant and established Japan as a “sovereign” and “legal” subject of a “civilized society” that was fully entitled to possess a colony. Alexis Dudden, Japan’s Colonization of Korea: Discourse and Power (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2005), pp. 9–12. 35. Ibid., p. 100. 36. Young-Ick Lew, “The Kabo Reform Movement: Korean and Japanese Reform Efforts in Korea, 1894,” PhD diss., Harvard University, 1972.

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close to Japan and redeem the projects of the monarch Kojong as an “uncontaminated” source of indigenous modernization. The renowned historian of the Choson dynasty Yi T’ae-jin calls Kojong an “enlightened monarch” who revitalized the Korean tradition of “ideal monarchs” represented by King Chongjo in the late eighteenth century.37 Yi even identifies some domestic challenges to the monarch as a product of Japanese machinations designed to undermine Kojong’s reform.38 This monarch-centering turn has recently become a mainstream narrative among the Korean public and in media portrayals of the Choson dynasty’s final decades.39 This restoration paradigm is limited, however, because it does not analyze each of the political actors, either reformers or monarch, in the dynamics of their mutual interactions and in the overall historical context of the period. It also does not take into account that “being close to Japan” changed in meaning from the late nineteenth century to the early colonial period. As a result, this paradigm overestimates the progress of Kojong’s reform and overlooks both how Kojong lost his chance to construct a larger basis of support for his reform.40 Overall, it does not explain how and why the Korean monarchy, known for its stability and longevity, lost its symbolic importance among Koreans and yielded, within a decade of the annexation, to the vision of a republic as announced in the March 1, 1919, Declaration of Korean Independence.

37. Yi T’ae-jin, Kojong Sidae ui Chaejomyong (Seoul: T’aehaksa, 2000), pp. 4–14. On other works on Kojong’s reform, see Kim Song-hye, “1890 nyondae Kojong ui T’ongch’i Nungnyok Kanghwa Nolli e kwanhan Ilgoch’al,” Yoksa wa Kyonggye 78 (March 2011): 287–321; Kim Song-hye, “Kojong Sidae Kunju rul tullossan T’ongch’ich’eje Kusang e taehan Ilgoch’al; Kabo Kaehyokki rul Chungsim uro,” Chongsin Munhwa Yon’gu 33, no. 3 (Fall 2010): 315–352; Chang Yong-suk, Kojong ui Chongch’i Sasang kwa Chongch’i Kaehyongnon (Seoul: Sonin, 2010); Kang Sang-kyu, 19 segi Tongasia ui P’aerodaim Pyonhwan kwa Hanbando (Seoul: Nonhyong, 2008); Yi Sung-nyol, Cheguk kwa Sangin (Seoul: Yoksa Pip’yongsa, 2007); So Yong-hui, Taehan Cheguk Chongch’isa Yon’gu (Seoul: Soul Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 2003). 38. For instance, Yi portrays the manmin kongdonghoe, the popular assemblies organized by the Independence Club (Tongnip Hyophoe), as a political conspiracy that the pro-Japanese segment in the Club conducted in secret collaboration with the Japanese Legation in Korea. Yi T’ae-jin, Kojong Sidae ui Chaejomyong, pp. 48–77. 39. The redemption of Kojong has gone hand in hand with other “discoveries” by Korean historians during the 1990s. Pak Ch’an-sung, Chu Chin-o, and Kim To-hyong see the ideas and movements of the enlightenment school as having been subsumed under Japan’s project to colonize Korea, and they attribute the pro-Japanese attitudes of the elite reformers to their class status as “upper bourgeoisie.” These authors also contrast these elite reformers’ compromise with the Japanese to the resistance of the 1894 Tonghak peasant rebellion, which minjung (people’s) historians have celebrated as the pinnacle of the Korean popular movements in the nineteenth century. Kim To-hyong, “Ilje Ch’imnyaggi Ch’inilseryok ui Chongch’iron Yon’gu,” Kyemyong Sahak 3 (November 1992): 1–63. On the minjung histories since the 1980s and their constructions of popular rebellions in Korea, see Kenneth Wells, “The Cultural Construction of Korean History,” in South Korea’s Minjung Movement: The Culture and Politics of Dissidence (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1995), pp. 11–29; Namhee Lee, The Making of Minjung: Democracy and the Politics of Representation in South Korea (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2009), 23–69. 40. Yun Ch’i-Ho, Yun Ch’iho Ilgi, vols. 5 and 6 (Seoul: Kuksa p’yonch’an wiwonhoe, 1973–1989).

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Between 1896 and 1904, pro-Japanese elements did grow among Korean antistatus-quo groups, creating a sizable political base that anticipated Japan’s “positive” role in reforming Korea. What made this pro-Japanese base substantial was the conversion of the Tonghaks, who later became the mainstay of the Ilchinhoe itself. This growth of pro-Japanese reformers challenges Duus’s thesis that weak domestic collaboration or the incompetence of Korean reformers resulted in formal annexation. The question could be rephrased: Why did Ito Hirobumi fail to transform Korea into a “modern and independent ally” if a significant number of pro-Japanese reformers were awaiting Japan’s “good intentions” in Korea? An answer to this question lies in clarifying how Korean reformers perceived their agendas and how their movements intersected with the goals and motions of Japanese imperialism in Korea. This book finds that the directions of Korean reformers, whether elitist or populist, contradicted Japan’s principal objectives in Korea. Although both Korean elites and the Japanese constantly reiterated “reform,” Korean reformers wished to institutionalize constraints, whether elitist or populist, over the monarchy, and considered such constraints essential to strengthening state and country. Ito Hirobumi, the first resident-general, was much more concerned with the stability of Japanese domination than with the agendas of the Korean reformers. When Ito found the different opinions of Koreans a hindrance to his administration, he divided Koreans into pro- and antiJapanese categories and ordered them to strictly follow his orders. Ito’s policy was most damaging to pro-Japanese reformers because it constrained their ability to coordinate their own agendas with Japan’s goals and to counter the charge of being simply “traitors.”

The Ilchinhoe: A Populist Collaborator Between 1896 and 1910, crucial changes occurred, establishing a “Korean path” to modernity, characterized by the king’s disappearance from the national imagination, the articulation of Korean ethnic nationalism, and a republican vision for the nation’s future. Andre Schmid, in Korea between Empires, analyzes the intellectual history of this period not within a linear history of national progress but in association with the discursive process of empire or, more broadly, with that of “capitalist modernity.”41 As mentioned earlier, he emphasizes the power of colonial knowledge in shaping Korean nationalist ideologies but pays less

41. Schmid, Korea between Empires, pp. 4–5.

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attention to the specific reform ideas and their action plans, which many political essayists of this period were struggling with. Korean reformers during this time debated how to redefine the king’s sovereignty and the rights of the people. Unlike in Japan, Korean reformist discourses were not constructed upon the monarchy’s “symbolic sanctity.” This difference deserves a historical inquiry because the Choson dynasty is known for its stability via Confucian indoctrination of its subjects and the arrangements for checks and balances in the dynasty’s elaborate institutions. Christine Kim pursues this question by analyzing the pageantry of the last Korean emperor, Sunjong, as choreographed by the protectorate governor Ito Hirobumi.42 Kim argues that Ito organized this procession to appropriate the “symbolic capital” of the Korean monarchy and to advertise the “modern progress” of Korea under Japan’s guidance. Contrary to Ito’s intention, this procession projected Sunjong as the icon of Korea’s frail destiny under Japan’s reign and exacerbated Korean nationalism and Japanese criticism of Ito’s rule in Korea. Then why did such Korean reverence for the Korean monarchy vanish in the subsequent political discourse of Koreans? Koreans grieved at the funerals of Kojong and Sunjong during the colonial period but scarcely tied the nation’s independence to the restoration of the Korean imperial house. The Ilchinhoe’s history constitutes an essential episode in explaining this transition between 1896 and 1910, when Korean reformers relinquished the monarchy’s “sanctity” and envisioned a “people’s country” for the Korean nation. Ilchinhoe members, the main subject of this book, had their roots in the Korean religion known as Tonghak (Eastern Learning).43 Founded in the 1860s, the religion challenged the Choson dynasty’s Confucian establishment and inspired the nationwide 1894 peasant rebellion. The Tonghaks could be dubbed “subalterns” who, after the rebellion, took the idiosyncratic path of supporting empire. Subaltern studies began with inquiring into the “sociality and political community of the subaltern” and arrived at recognizing the “heterogeneity” of subaltern discourse and the “limitations of historical knowledge” in “retrieving” the voices of the subaltern, when “their subject positions were not given in the discursive structures” available to modern historians.44 This recognition of the “subaltern silence” converses with the position of postcolonial studies that call such silence a moment for criticizing the limits of modern knowledge and that seek to re-

42. Christine Kim, “Politics and Pageantry in Protectorate Korea (1905–10): The Imperial Progresses of Sunjong,” Journal of Asian Studies 68, no. 3 (2009): 835–859. 43. Tonghak literally means “Eastern learning,” as opposed to “Western learning,” which referred to Christianity. 44. Gyan Prakash, “Subaltern Studies as Postcolonial Criticism,” American Historical Review 99, no. 5 (December 1994): 1480–1490.

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orient the history of colonialism into a critique of colonial discourse, both its power and failures, in subordinating such subaltern positions.45 While acknowledging the power of postcolonial critiques, this book nevertheless takes a historical and empirical perspective that “privileges agents over structure,” assuming that “language is a constraint but also a resource.”46 Rather than being mere subjects constructed by discourses of colonial power, Koreans adopted diverse ideas and idioms, indigenous and foreign, to propose their own claims on power and life. Besides, because the Ilchinhoe members were largely illiterate, they exhibited an inconsistency between their public statements and actions, and the contours of their actions did not correspond to their official statements. “Speech is an action,”47 but in the Ilchinhoe’s case, words often obliterated deeds. Sharing the vocabulary of “civilization and enlightenment,” the Ilchinhoe’s statements were ambiguous as to how the group’s position differed both from the Japanese discourse and from the perspectives of Korean elites. However, when viewed in conjunction with their actions, the unique position of the Ilchinhoe members emerged on the reform of the Korean monarchy and on Japanese protectorate rule. In this book, I define the Ilchinhoe’s position as “populist.” Populism is a concept used to describe various historical cases, from nineteenth-century U.S. agrarian movements to Latin America’s state corporatism and multiclass parties of the twentieth century.48 Populism of the late nineteenth century in the United States and Russia grew from the mature democratic cultures or radical intellectual currents of those countries and reflected the anxiety of agrarian-class or other small producers endangered by capitalism or monopolistic industrialism.49 45. Ibid., pp. 1488–1490. 46. Skinner, Visions of Politics, 1:7. 47. Ibid., 1:3–4. 48. Previous studies have characterized populism as a structure of argumentation, political style, and strategy without a solid ideological core. Populists claim to speak for the ordinary people whose interests have been “betrayed” by the established powers in a given system. See Robert H. Dix, “Populism: Authoritarian and Democratic,” Latin American Research Review 20, no. 2 (1985); David Peal, “The Politics of Populism: Germany and the American South in the 1890s,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 31, no. 2 (April 1989): 340–362; Ruth B. Collier and David Collier, Shaping the Political Arena: Critical Junctures, the Labor Movement, and Regime Dynamics in Latin America (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991); Hans-George Betz and Stefan Immerfall, eds., The New Politics of the Right: Neo-Populist Parties and Movements in Established Democracies (London: Macmillan, 1998); Yves Mény and Yves Surel, Democracies and the Populist Challenge (New York: Palgrave, 2002); and Alan Knight, “Populism and Neo-Populism in Latin America, Especially Mexico,” Journal of Latin American Studies 30, no. 2 (May 1998). 49. On American populism, see Michael Kazin, The Populist Persuasion: An American History (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998); Robert C. McMath Jr., American Populism: A Social History, 1877–1898 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1992); Lawrence Goodwyn, The Populist Moment: A Short History of the Agrarian Revolt in America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978). On Russian populism, see Andrzej Walicki, The Controversy over Capitalism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969); Franco Venturi, Roots of Revolution: A History of the Populist and Socialist Movements in Nineteenth Century Russia (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1960).

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Even though ordinary Koreans of that time were barely acquainted with democratic ideas or industrialism, it is still arguable that the Ilchinhoe conveyed populist agendas. Margaret Canovan maintains that populism is a claim for “legitimacy on the grounds that they speak for the people,” that is, “to represent the democratic sovereign.”50 With a negative tone, William A. Riker defines the “essence of populism” in the set of two propositions that “1. What the people, as a corporate entity, want ought to be social or public policy. 2. The people are free when their wishes are law.”51 Riker’s definition is geared to rejecting the populist notion of democracy and to “proving” that elections do not correlate to the “will of the people”—such a defense of populism is thus empty when the general will is unknowable. Riker holds the liberal interpretation that elections are an efficient institution for rejecting a tyrant rather than for fulfilling the will of the people. Regardless of the controversy about his theory, Riker’s definition clarifies that populism is premised on the ideas that public policy should reflect the “will of the people” and freedom should be identified not with the lack of state restrictions on private spheres but with the institutionalization of popular wishes. Populism as this frame of thought could emerge even in a society where the ideas of democracy were vaguely introduced and elections were not well practiced. Here Ernesto Laclau observes that populism is not a “type of movement identifiable with either a special social base or a particular ideological orientation” but rather a logic of “constructing the political.” This logic concerns “popular participation in general” and “simplifies” political space by “replacing a complex set of differences and determinations by a stark dichotomy whose two poles are necessarily imprecise.”52 Laclau does not counterpose this imprecision of populism to “mature” ideologies such as liberalism or socialism. Rather, he argues that this vagueness may be the consequence of social reality itself being “undetermined” and that “the logic of dichotomy may function as the very condition of political action.”53 Laclau values the roles of symbolic signifiers in populist discourses in constructing a collective identity against power and making such an

50. Margaret Canovan, “Trust the People! Populism and the Two Faces of Democracy,” Political Studies 47, no. 1 (March 1999): 2–16. 51. William H. Riker, Liberalism against Populism, and the Theory of Social Choice (San Francisco: W. H. Freeman, 1982), pp. 238–239. 52. Laclau, On Populist Reason (London: Verso, 2005), p. 117. 53. Ibid., p. 74. Laclau identifies the three preconditions from which populism emerges as a specific logic for constituting the “people” as a social subject or as a historical actor: “(1) the formation of an internal antagonistic frontier separating the ‘people’ from power; (2) an equivalential articulation of demands making the emergence of the ‘people’ possible; and (3) the unification of these various demands into a stable system of signification.”

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identity “hegemonic.”54 In this theoretical light, the Ilchinhoe followed a populist track insofar as they proposed to represent “the people” against the monarchy’s establishments and tried to institutionalize their wishes in the government administration. But they did not produce a movement and language cogent enough to consolidate popular solidarity against existing power structures. The Ilchinhoe first appeared as a strong political force in Korea during the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905). Originally founded as an association of political figures, the Ilchinhoe obtained a popular base when it merged with the Tonghak organization,55 whose members comprised the majority in Ilchinhoe local branches. The Tonghak religion developed egalitarian social visions on the premise of the “moral equality of human beings” and proposed “equal treatment of all persons as a foundational ideal,” preaching “Men are Heaven” and “Treat men as if they are Heaven.” Mark Setton, a historian of Korean philosophy, finds a theoretical ground of the Tonghak tenets in “Confucian populism,” which identifies “the will of the people” with “the will of Heaven” and recognizes a ruler’s authority in his acts to accomplish “the welfare of his subjects.”56 After the defeat of the 1894 Rebellion, the Tonghak leaders departed from their xenophobia and absorbed the ideas of “enlightenment and civilization.” It seems that the Independent played a significant role in this conversion, because the Ilchinhoe’s opening manifesto duplicates phrases from the newspaper’s columns and editorials. The converted Tonghaks declared their support for Japan in the Russo-Japanese War and resurfaced throughout the country in the spring of 1904. That autumn, the Tonghaks organized the Chinbohoe (Progressive Society), and in October 1904 they announced their merger with the Ilchinhoe in the capital. The two groups united under the name Ilchinhoe three months later.57 Available evidence suggests that, following this merger, the Ilchinhoe had more than 100,000 members and perhaps as many as 500,000, although the

54. Ibid., p. 156. 55. On the Tonghaks, see Susan. S. Shin, “The Tonghak Movement: From Enlightenment to Revolution,” Korean Studies Forum 5 (Winter–Spring 1978–1979); Shin Yong-ha, “Establishment of Tonghak and Ch’oe Che-u,” Seoul Journal of Korean Studies 3 (December 1990): 83–102; Shin Yongha, “Conjunction of Tonghak and the Peasant War of 1894,” Korea Journal 34, no. 4 (Winter 1994): 59–75; Suh Young-hee, “Tracing the Course of the Peasant War of 1894,” Korea Journal 34, no. 4 (Winter 1994): 17–30; Yong-Ick Lew, “The Conservative Character of the 1894 Tonghak Peasant Uprising: A Reappraisal with Emphasis on Chon Pong-jun’s Background and Motivation,” Journal of Korean Studies 7 (1990): 149–180; and Mark Setton, “Confucian Populism and Egalitarian Tendencies in Tonghak Thought,” East Asian History 20 (December 2000): 121–144. 56. Mark Setton, “Confucian Populism and Egalitarian Tendencies in Tonghak Thought,” East Asian History 20 (December 2000): 121–144. 57. Yi In-sop, The Original History of the Ilchinhoe in Korea (hereafter IH) (Seoul: Munmyongsa, 1911), vol. 1, pp. 43–44. The Ilchinhoe claimed that it had inherited the values and assets of the Independence Club (Tongnip Hyophoe).

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group claimed to have one million. The Japanese military headquarters in Korea counted in November 1904 3,670 Ilchinhoe members, including forty-nine leaders (chair, vice-chair, and members of the Ilchinhoe council), and 117,735 Chinbohoe members, 883 of whom were leaders (such as prefectural and provincial chairs and vice-chairs).58 The Japanese scholar Hayashi Yusuke writes that just before its dissolution the Ilchinhoe had 140,715 members, according to the official Japanese investigation of August 1910.59 Non-Japanese sources also indicate that the Ilchinhoe had a large membership, at least at the beginning. For instance, the Korean Daily News (Taehan Maeil Shinbo), run by a British journalist, Ernest T. Bethell (1872–1909), reported in January 1905 that the entries of the Ilchinhoe membership (iphoe han chwamok) had reached a total of 500,000 (tohap i osibyoman myong).60 The Korean government did not offer a specific number but left records that the Ilchinhoe’s assemblies convened several hundred to several thousand members in many prefectures of P’yongan Province. Ku Wan-hui, the Uiju magistrate,61 investigated the Tonghak leaders whom he arrested during their early uprisings. Ku estimated that the large sections (taep’o taejop) of the Tonghak organization in the province had several tens of thousands of members, while each small section had three or four thousand members. If the large sections were the provincial units and the small sections were the prefectural ones, these numbers substantiate the aforementioned Japanese military survey of the Chinbohoe members, which counted 49,850 in the eighteen prefectures of Southern P’yongan and 19,560 in the twelve prefectures of Northern P’yongan.62 The movements of Ilchinhoe members were neither national nor colonial. They were not liberal but hardly traditional in nature. “The empowerment of the people under the rubric of empire” was close to what they proposed, although they could not consolidate such a vision. This notion of a “populist empire” sounds like an oxymoron, advocating the erasure of colonizers and colonized or calling for “an imperial democracy expanding without spatial and racial limits.” The Ilchinhoe’s movements reveal the limits of capitalist modernity rather than conforming to it. Is it appropriate, then, to call the Ilchinhoe members 58. Chukan Ninhon Koshikan [The Japanese Legation in Korea], compiled by Kuksp’yonch’an Wiwonhoe (National Institute of Korean History), Chukan Nihon Koshikan Kiroku (hereafter CNKK) (Seoul: Kuksap’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1986), vol. 1; orig. published November 22, 1904. 59. Hayashi Yusuke, “Undo dantai toshite no Isshinkai: Minshu tono sesshoku yoso o chushin ni,” Chosen gakuho 172 (July 1999): 46–48. 60. Korea Daily News (hereafter KD), 01/12/1905. 61. On July 10, 1904, Ku Wanhui wrote that complaints against the Tonghaks were beginning to flood his office. 62. CNKK, vol. 1, November 22, 1904; Hayashi Yusuke, “Issinkai no zenhanki ni kansuru kisoteki kenkyu,” in Takeo Yukio, ed., Chosen shakai no shiteki tenkai to higashi Ajia (Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppansha, 1997), pp. 506–509.

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“collaborators”? Going back to our earlier discussion on collaboration, local actors had multiple motives for supporting the foreign occupation. But the term “collaboration” connotes the potential moral strife within local society over such choices and the vulnerability of collaborators in justifying their choices when they had only limited ability to know and control the goals and directions of the occupiers. “Accommodation” is not the right term for Ilchinhoe members because they did not merely adapt themselves to the situation but voluntarily acted to support the Japanese empire. Without the concept of collaboration, it is difficult to explain why Ilchinhoe members encountered such intense hostility from other Koreans, had moral accusations leveled against them, and were so weak in bolstering their populist projects.

A Note on Method and Sources To grasp the mode of actions that Ilchinhoe members took, this book focuses on discovering the directions of Ilchinhoe members in local areas. For a detailed scrutiny of such local dynamics, I selected Korea’s northwestern provinces, P’yongan and Hwanghae, from which more than 50 percent of Ilchinhoe members hailed. For the chapter on legal disputes, I add the case of Ch’ungch’ong Province to give a comparative perspective to the northern region. In Ch’ungch’ong the Ilchinhoe waged fierce disputes over the tenancy of the postal station lands and evidenced a tendency of land distribution in favor of poor Ilchinhoe tenants. Second, I do my best to situate the Ilchinhoe’s movements within the broader political dynamics of the protectorate and vis-à-vis other actors—the Korean monarchy, Korean elite reformers, and the Japanese. The Ilchinhoe’s language, also, is not taken in its literal meanings alone but analyzed in its stance toward both the words of other actors and the conduct of its own members. Newspapers with national coverage are referenced, to determine whether the phenomena in the northern regions were parochial or national. This alertness to interrelations helps uncover the Ilchinhoe’s distinctive position (i.e., its “populist” component) and its contentions with the Japanese and Korean elites. In writing a reliable history of collaboration, it is essential to have good and substantial sources. In that sense, it was fortunate that the Ilchinhoe’s case occurred during the protectorate period. Until the Japanese set up a direct administration in mid-1907, Korean officials continued to record their daily administrative tasks as they had always done, producing diverse kinds of documents. Korean records during this period are much more alive than those of the colonial period proper, in terms of conveying the life and voices of Koreans, for before

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1907 Japan could not fully censor the Korean records. Among such records, the reports of local magistrates and provincial governors are meticulous and rich, demonstrating the rigorous documentation culture of Choson officials. Their local reports include candid and diverse accounts of local affairs, for officials successively updated their files on important local matters until they resolved the issues to which the reports pertained. Officials interrogated multiple actors involved in conflicts and often compiled firsthand petitions written by local residents. When they sent their reports to the central government, local magistrates quoted the reports of their informants, who were for the most part county heads or prefectural officials of local elite bureaus. Kaksa Tungnok (Copies of Administrative Bureaus Records), one of my main sources, is a compilation of correspondence, orders, reports, and bills of legal accusations that local officials exchanged with the administrative bureaus in the central government. Tungnok discloses the many layers of provincial life in Korea at the time, in accordance with the responsible central administrative organs and their local correspondents.63 Tungnok indicates that the magistrates regularly received reports from local leaders, especially on vital security issues, such as the entrance of foreigners to the region and the movements of residents. It also suggests that local elite leaders were well integrated into the state administration. The Sillok (Veritable Royal Records) are the official records that Choson-dynasty historians compiled posthumously of each monarch’s reign. As the Kojong Sillok was compiled in the wake of the Korean emperor Kojong’s death in 1919, around a decade after the Japanese colonization of Korea in 1910, it naturally has a Japanese bias in recording Kojong’s concerns and court decisions. But the records still provide useful information for understanding the atmosphere of the Korean court and the discussions between the monarch and his officials. In general, the local documents convey the impression that Korean government officials maintained a firm grip on local society even when they could not control all the tides of change in a given region. This contradicts the prevailing image of Korean government and society on the eve of Japanese colonization as being in complete decay or disorder. These Korean documents were used here in combination with the records of the Japanese Legation and the protectorate government in Korea. Under the catchphrase of “improvement of governance” (sijong kaeson), Ito Hirobumi had numerous meetings with the Korean emperor Kojong, his officials, and Korean elites and coordinated the whole process of colonization with skill and political 63. For instance, records for the Foreign Ministry deal with issues concerning foreign residents in the province; those for the Financial Ministry include tax issues and appeals of local residents.

INTRODUCTION

21

shrewdness. His underlings monitored the whereabouts of various Korean groups, including members of the court, reformist groups, and conservative literati, and collected rumors among the Korean people and elites. The resulting Japanese documents are useful for examining the Ilchinhoe movement within the overall development of the protectorate’s policies and agendas. Finally, the journals and daily newspapers of the Korean reformers and nationalists covered Ilchinhoe news on a national scale. Their reports were critical, but their coverage was extensive. The Korean Daily News and Imperial Gazetteer reported the Ilchinhoe’s activities on a regular basis. The two newspapers had slightly different positions and changed the tone of their Ilchinhoe reports over time. Thus these reports reveal how Korean elite reformers changed their views on the Ilchinhoe movement along with the protectorate rule. The Imperial Gazetteer was more reserved in its Ilchinhoe reports and printed the Ilchinhoe’s formal statements or advertisements. Many of those documents were later reprinted in The Original History of the Ilchinhoe in Korea, the Ilchinhoe’s own compilation of its public statements, letters, and daily activities. This compilation was published in 1911, a year after the annexation of Korea. Meanwhile, the Korean Daily News, published by a major opponent of the Ilchinhoe, printed critical articles on the group’s activities on an almost daily basis. Shin Ch’ae-ho and Pak Un-sik, the famous Korean nationalist thinkers, penned editorials for the Korean Daily News. They stamped the Ilchinhoe members with the labels “traitorous,” “idiotic,” and “pathetic,” thus formulating the notoriety of the Ilchinhoe that contemporary Koreans have inherited.

1 THE KOREAN REFORMERS AND THE LATE CHOSON STATE

The Choson dynasty (1392–1910) was long and stable. Major popular rebellions did not occur before its final century. The dynasty suddenly encountered a series of popular rebellions, the coup of elite officials, a palace mutiny, and successive foreign invasions in the nineteenth century. These challenges did not oust the old political frame of the Choson dynasty, until the 1894 Tonghak Rebellion deeply unsettled the regime. King Kojong was tolerant and mild. He moderated reforms between conservative literati and elite reformers. His mediation may have postponed the dynasty’s collapse, but it delayed the fundamental resolution of accumulated problems and social resentments. The resilience of the late Choson state, if not its strength in the modern sense, framed the historical course of the Korean reformist movements. The monarchy’s fundamental renovation required alternative ideological and institutional networks that could enfeeble and erode the interconnected arrays of values and interests that the Confucian state had grounded, for half a millennium, among its ruling elite and people. The late Choson state, despite all its problems, constrained quite well the opportunities for reformers to grow and mobilize such alternatives. New political spaces were opened when Tonghak rebels critically impaired the dynasty’s political and social establishment. The Independence Club expanded such spaces by mobilizing ordinary people in politics and by publicizing new political ideas and practices to reform the monarchy. Kojong accommodated the reform proposals of various groups, but during the period of the Great Korean Empire (1897–1910) he mainly channeled

22

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government policies in the direction of reinforcing the power of the monarch. This imperial era may have been Kojong’s final opportunity to refashion himself as a constitutional monarch and to transform the discontented populace into subjects with civic rights. Instead, he persecuted the Independence Club and clamped down on the Tonghak remnants who were disrupting the social and geographical periphery of the royal realm. Kojong manifested a traditional kingship of the dynasty as he availed himself of the competition among various political groups and made the groups check and balance each other in his court. His power was too limited to claim absolute status but too strong for any one group of officials to override it. The late Choson state was not limited to court politics but equipped with dense institutions and networks through which its officials reached deep into local society to enforce the state’s directives. The king’s authority integrated these networks into a single political domain and granted legitimacy to the official and semiofficial agents of the state. In exchange, provincial administrators responsively settled local conflicts and mitigated popular discontent. When Korean reformers and rebels in the mid-nineteenth century aimed at reforming the dynasty, they tried to keep the king on their side and renovate the system from the top down or to create a popular scheme from the bottom up to replace the dynasty’s old institutional frame. The Enlightenment School (kaehwap’a) leaders took the first road, and the Tonghak rebels experimented in the second direction. This chapter revisits the characteristics of the late Choson state and examines in what directions its challengers tried to reform the state in the late nineteenth century. It then delineates the organizational experiments that elite reformers and Tonghak rebels introduced in order to constrain the state’s power. Such experiments were later appropriated by the Ilchinhoe’s movements and political campaigns.

State-Society Relations in the Late Chosn Dynasty James Palais defined the Choson state as a “centralized bureaucratic administration” that was ineffective in penetrating local society. He also described the political system of Choson as a rivalry between monarch and aristocrats through which the ruling elites sustained a power equilibrium among themselves. Despite the weak administration, Palais argues, this system of equilibrium undergirded the unique longevity of the Choson dynasty, which endured twice as long as traditional dynasties in other countries. Compared with a modern state, the capability of the Choson state to govern society was limited. Yet the Choson

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state had its own means for working with that society and played a crucial role in solving social problems.1 The Choson state had attained a certain degree of centralization from its inception by enacting measures for controlling local officials in its national codes2 and had made administrative revisions toward centralization throughout the dynasty. In the eighteenth century, the Choson state visibly enhanced its local control, in what Korean historians have called the concentration of power (chipkwonhwa) in Choson society.3 The ruling elites of the dynasty, the yangban literati, were not a military class. They were ideologically sophisticated and institutionally equipped for directing the local population and the government administration. But in coping with violent resistance to the aristocratic order, they could not mobilize private armies, relying instead on the “means of violence” that the state exclusively controlled. This made it easier for the state to maintain its supremacy over society. Yet until the mid-Choson period, the central administration heavily depended on the power of local yangban aristocrats for governance.4 This reliance on local aristocrats changed in character in the eighteenth century, when the state further augmented the roles of provincial governors and local magistrates and tightened the direct administrative ties between counties (myon) and subcounties (li).5 The central government also restrained yangban enforcement of private punishment, reinforced its own jurisdiction over penal administration, and published a new compilation of national law codes.6 1. Palais’s perspective relies on the theory of S. N. Eisenstadt, who classified traditional states into five categories: city-states, feudal systems, patrimonial empires, nomad or conquest empires, and centralized bureaucratic empires. See S. N. Eisenstadt, The Political Systems of Empires (London [New York]: Free Press of Glencoe, 1963); Anthony Giddens, The Nation-State and Violence (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), p. 35; James B. Palais, Politics and Policy in Traditional Korea (Cambridge, MA: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1975), pp. 7–16. 2. Kim In-gol, “Choson kon’guk kwa chibang chibae kujo ui chaep’yon,” in Han’guk Yoksa Yon’guhoe, ed., Choson un chibang ul ottok’e chibaehannun’ga? (Seoul: Acanet, 2000), pp. 21–41. 3. See Yi Haejun, “Kwan chudo chibang chibae ui simch’unghwa,” in Han’guk Yoksa Yon’guhoe, ed., Choson un chibang ul ottok’e chibaehannun’ga?, pp. 188–189; Yi Song-mu, “Ohoeyon’gyo,” Choson Sidae Tangjaengsa, vol. 2 (Seoul: Tongbang Media, 2000), pp. 252–256; Ko Sok-kyu, 19 segi Choson ui Hyangch’on Sahoe Yon’gu (Seoul: Seoul National University Press, 1998), pp. 48–72. 4. Chong Chin-yong, “16, 17 segi Chaeji Sajok ui Hyangch’on Chibae wa Ku Songgyok,” in Choson Sidae Hyangch’on Sahoesa (Seoul: Han’gilsa, 1998), pp. 229–257. 5. O Yong-gyo, Choson Hugi Hyangch’on Chibae Chongch’aek Yon’gu (Seoul: Hyean, 2001), pp. 139–215. 6. The effects of this new regime can be seen in a local village compact. In 1631, the local community compact in Kohyon County stipulated that lower-status people or secondary sons who insulted aristocrats or legitimate sons would be punished. The compact of 1687 required the village head (ijong) to inform the officials (yusa) and punish those irreverent people with thirty blows. By 1790, the same village compact demanded that the village head inform the local government (kwanjong) and ask it to punish villagers when the young insulted the old or when those of lower status offended the yangban. While Chong Chin-yong, the Korean scholar of local history, interprets this change as indicating increasing challenges of commoners against yangban aristocrats, the case also shows that yangban associations in the later periods relied on local government to punish commoners

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What exactly propelled this reorganization is unknown. Given that centralization accelerated during the reigns of the powerful kings Sukchong (1661– 1720), Yongjo (1694–1776), and Chongjo (1752–1800), monarchical initiatives may be one explanation. An alternative possibility is intra-aristocratic dynamics. Ko Sok-kyu, a Korean social historian, discloses the power struggles between central and local aristocrats in tandem with the extension of the central state. He argues that the ruling aristocrats, the Patriarch faction, helped magistrates infringe upon the autonomy of the opposing faction, the local aristocrats in the Kyongsang area, stirring up local strife against the Kyongsang aristocrats over their cultural authority, the membership of the local yangban association, and taxation.7 Whatever its causes, centralization curtailed the virtual autonomy of the local yangban, which had been consolidated in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.8 The local effects of this centralization have been differently interpreted in the social history of the late Choson. Kim In-gol and Ko Sok-kyu have emphasized the crumbling autonomy of local aristocrats and the growing challenges to their status in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. They explain such changes as follows, analyzing local yangban associations (hyangan or hyanghoe) as the micro-social sites of local strife. The local yangban associations were selfregulating institutions for preserving local elite lineages and their interests. These associations played important roles in local security and welfare as they supervised personnel in public and military administration bureaus, elected officials to those bureaus, and distributed taxes and military service.9 During the eighteenth century, these local yangban associations diminished their importance in local administration.10 This power shift to magistrates facilitated the emergence of new local elites or the distance of local yangban aristocrats toward officials of local advisory bureaus (hyangjik). In some southern areas, the local aristocrats avoided the subordinate roles of hyangjik assisting magistrates in taxation and other administrative tasks. Meanwhile, the new elites hired for such roles, local clerks or secondary sons of yangban families, took that opportunity to accumulate wealth and power in local areas. These new elites challenged the dominant status of local aristocrats and tried to join local yangban associations (hyanghoe) by purchase or by disputes. The elite conflicts

rather than doing it themselves. See Chong Chin-yong, Choson Sidae Hyangch’on Sahoesa, pp. 400– 403. 7. Ko Sok-kyu, 19 segi Choson ui Hyangch’on Sahoe Yon’gu, pp. 48–72. 8. Han’guk Yoksa Yon’guhoe, ed., Choson un chibang ul ottok’e chibaehannun’ga?, pp. 184– 201. 9. Sun Joo Kim, “Marginalized Elite, Regional Discrimination, and the Tradition of Prophetic Belief in the Hong Kyongrae Rebellion,” PhD diss., University of Washington, 2000, p. 80. 10. An Pyong-uk, “Choson sidae chach’i wa chohang chojik urosoui hyanghoe,” Songsimyodae Nonmunjib, 1986, p. 18, quoted in Ko Sok-kyu, 19 segi Choson ui Hyangch’on Sahoe Yon’gu, p. 22.

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over the membership of local yangban associations were called hyangjon, or strife between original members of the local yangban associations (kuhyang) and their new aspirants (sinhyang).11 A similar narrative is presented in Paek Sung-jong’s case study of Kohyonnae County (myon), Cholla Province. The prominent yangban lineages in the county had established their dominance by the early seventeenth century.12 These lineages aligned themselves with the village associations (tonghoe) and regulated nonmember residents. Yangban dominance disintegrated both inside and outside of the village associations. First, paternalistic lineage organizations (munjung) became dominant in the seventeenth century, concurrent with the “Confucianization” of Choson society.13 These new lineages undermined the yangban’s unity as they frequently became involved in legal disputes about problems such as the locations of ancestors’ tombs. In addition, secondary social elites disputed the exclusive membership of the village association.14 As yangban unity fell apart, the tonghoe lost its control over local society in the eighteenth century. Not all scholars have agreed on the faltering integrity of local yangban dominance in the eighteenth century. Yi Yong-hun insists that yangbans’ dominance developed later and persevered longer. In his study of Taejori in Kyongsang Province, Yi argues that yangban elites secured their unilateral dominance over commoners only in the early eighteenth century and kept such dominance beyond the mid-nineteenth century. In the seventeenth century, commoners associated themselves with their own organization and preserved their identity as “freemen” vis-àvis slaves. The commoner organization called the “lower association” (hagye) enjoyed relative autonomy from the “upper association” (sanggye) of the yangban. During the eighteenth century, however, the yangban subjugated commoners as “lower people” (hamin) and ruled the village unilaterally. Yi perceives that intermarriages between commoners and slaves mediated the process of transforming free commoners into “lower people.” It was not until the nineteenth century that unilateral yangban dominance declined and the tongyak, or the village compact, was reduced to an exclusive union of yangban members.15 Fujiya Kawashima perceives that the development of hyangch’ong (local advisory bureaus) in the sixteenth century indicated not so much the autonomy of local aristocracy but its “interdependence” with the central bureaucracy. Ac11. Kim In-gol, “Hyangch’on Chach’i Ch’egye ui Pyonhwa,” in Han’guksa, vol. 34 (Seoul: Kuksap’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1995), pp. 222–267. 12. Paek Sung-jong, Han’guk Sahoesa Yon’gu, pp. 78–114. 13. Martina Deuchler, The Confucian Transformation of Korea: A Study of Society and Ideology (Cambridge, MA: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1992). 14. Paek Sung-jong, Han’guk Sahoesa Yon’gu, pp. 116–148. 15. Yi Yong-hun, “18.19 segi Taejori ui Sinbun Kusong kwa Chach’i Chilso,” Matchil ui Nongmindul (Seoul: Ilchogak, 2001), pp. 255–268.

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cording to Kawashima, local yangban associations were weakening their connection to the central bureaucracy in the eighteenth century, but their membership remained exclusive to prestigious aristocratic lineages even in the late nineteenth century.16 Kim Sun Joo also argues that local yangban associations maintained their aristocratic integrity and power until the mid-nineteenth century although they were struggling with the new pressures from nonaristocratic elites and from the monetization of the Choson’s taxation and economy. Revising the previous scholarship on the lack of yangban aristocracy in the northern region, Kim’s work shows that northern yanban associations established the records of their aristocratic lineages and demonstrated their power and cultural authority in maintaining order and social hierarchy in the region. Kim considers the discrimination against the northern yangban identity a crucial factor in the rebellion, the first major revolt against the Choson court.17 The previous scholarship on late Choson society, summarized earlier, has revealed the Choson state’s elaborate networks with local elites and the complex dynamics of local conflicts. But it has not fully explained where the Choson state’s resilience originated and how the state performed its overall public functions. Where did the Choson people turn if they needed “public goods” to preserve the order, welfare, and security required for the society beyond a family or village level? Did local yangban associations fulfill such roles and sustain them throughout the late Choson period? Yi Yong-hun finds that village residents in the late nineteenth century developed numerous interpersonal associations to supply “public goods,” such as security or irrigation, and for taking care of village forests, education, and so on.18 Anders Karlsson finds that the central government conducted large-scale relief in the early nineteenth century. Karlsson argues that the Choson state possessed elaborate “relief aid guidelines” and “relief grain procurement practices” and carried them out competently despite “the constraints of general fiscal difficulties.” He asserts that the “deterioration” of the Choson administration in the early nineteenth century has been exaggerated in previous studies.19

16. Fujiya Kawashima, “The Local Gentry Association in Mid-Yi Dynasty Korea: A Preliminary Study of the Ch’angnyong Hyangan, 1600–1838,” Journal of Korean Studies 2 (1980): 116–119; Fujiya Kawashima, “A Study of the Hyangan: Kin Groups and Aristocratic Localism in the Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Korean Countryside,” Journal of Korean Studies 5 (1984): 11–15. 17. Sun Joo Kim, Marginality and Subversion in Korea: The Hong Kyongnae Rebellion of 1812 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2009); Kim Sun Joo, “Choson hugi P’yongando Chongju ui Hyangan Unyong kwa Yangban Munhwa,” Yoksa Hakpo 185 (2005): 65–105. 18. See Yi Yong-hun, “18.19 segi Taejori ui Sinbun Kusong kwa Chach’i Chilso,” p. 248. 19. Anders Karlsson, “Famine Relief, Social Order, and State Performance in Late Choson Korea,” Journal of Korean Studies 12, no. 1 (Fall 2007): 113.

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My own research on P’yongan Province supports Karlsson’s thesis.20 According to P’yongan records, in 1822 the provincial government provided effective disaster aid and executed large-scale famine relief.21 The provincial government of P’yongan regularly presented reports to the central government on the tenth day of each month. These monthly reports covered welfare, penal administration, and internal and external security. As for penal administration, the provincial government collected all the murder cases in the region and sent them to the central government for inspection, because this was an area under royal jurisdiction. With respect to internal security, local magistrates were instructed to secretly collect information on the spread of “heresies” and to report them to the Border Defense Command. Local magistrates also sent monthly reports to the central government on governmental aid to the victims of fires, accidental deaths from drowning, or tiger attacks in their districts.22 The magistrates subsequently investigated the locations of the accidents, the victims’ names, gender, age, social status, and the size of their households. Grain was distributed on the basis of the victims’ household size.23 For example, the provincial government reported that a total of forty-nine households had encountered disaster in the second month of 1822. The government provided nine small tu of rice to each of the fifteen victims with large households, eight small tu of rice to the nine middling households, and seven small tu of rice to each of the twenty-five small households.24 The government gave extra support for funeral expenses if the victims’ family members were killed.25 The provincial government also arranged relief measures for abandoned babies. When babies under three years old were rescued, the government took them to women who could breastfeed them. These women received three small tu of rice, brown kelp (miyok), and soy sauce once a month from the government. Most of the babies were rescued in P’yongyang, the biggest city in the province. In the fifth month of 1822, sixteen out of the eighteen abandoned babies in the province were found in P’yongyang. The provincial government reported

20. I call this social involvement of the state “engaged administration” in my unpublished research paper based on analysis of the P’yongan provincial government records in 1822, the Kwanso Kyerok [The Presented Reports of the Northwest Province]. The Kwanso Kyerok (hereafter KSKR) is a compilation of reports that the P’yong’an provincial governor sent to the Royal Secretariat (Sungjongwon) in 1822. This source reveals the provincial situation a decade after the Hong Kyongnae rebellion and the pattern of interactions between the provincial and the central governments. 21. See the reports on the tenth day of each month in KSKR. 22. Given increasing migration at the time, this welfare measure may have had the purpose of preventing residents from leaving the northern frontier. 23. The size of households was sorted into three categories: large, middle, and small. 24. A tu is a unit of measure that equals about 18 liters. Tu is colloquially mal. 25. KSKR, p. 22.

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its aid for these babies to the Bureau of Relief (Chinhyulch’ong) in the central government.26 Famine relief in Choson has been depicted in terms of the dysfunction and corruption of the grain-loan system. James Palais points out that by the midseventeenth century, the grain-loan system (hwan’gok or hwanja) had abandoned its role as famine aid and had turned into an “agency of repression.” Yet the records in the Kwanso Kyerok suggest the possibility of considering famine relief as a separate issue from the dysfunction of the grain-loan system. The provincial government took famine relief efforts very seriously because the scale of the task and the numbers of its beneficiaries were large.27 The provincial government started its famine aid in the first month and completed it in the fifth month of the year. The relief process was executed under two different financial categories: “public account” (kongjin) and “urgent relief” (kugup). Public accounts covered five towns, including Chasan and its neighboring areas, and urgent relief was provided to twenty-two towns, including P’yongyang. More than 130,000 people in P’yongan Province received famine-relief grain in 1822. The government granted roughly three tu of rice per person. It would require further research to determine whether these relief measures were temporary or confined to P’yongan Province because of the need to prevent social unrest on its northern frontier. The catastrophic 1812 Hong Kyong-nae Rebellion had indeed made the government reinforce its relief measures in the province. The secret inspector to P’yongan Province reported that the granaries of the provincial government were almost empty due to the increase in demand on the relief grain after the rebellion.28 At any rate, provincial records suggest that the state’s relief measures were viable enough to distribute aid to households in need. It remains to be investigated whether the heightened centralization in the eighteenth century was related to this larger social engagement of the Choson state as documented in the 1822 P’yongan governor’s reports. In brief, the stability of the Choson dynasty was upheld by the state’s engagement with social insecurity and its local networks to perform government directives. Although the late Choson state protected aristocratic privileges and status-based discrimination, it did enhance its social penetration by incorporating nonaristocratic elites

26. See, for instance, KSKR, p. 48. What is interesting in this record is the gender ratio of the abandoned babies. In 1822, more boys were abandoned than girls. In the fifth month, five out of eighteen babies were girls. This indicates that parents did not show any preference to save boys at the expense of girls in a period of hardship. Given the strong discrimination against women in the late Choson period, this ratio is noteworthy. 27. See James Palais, Confucian Statecraft and Korean Institutions (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1996), pp. 689–704; Sun Joo Kim, “Marginalized Elite, Regional Discrimination, and the Tradition of Prophetic Belief in the Hong Kyongrae Rebellion,” p. 119. 28. Pibyonsa Tungnok, vol. 21 (Seoul: Kuksa P’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1982), p. 412.

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as agents of magistrates, by providing relief measures, and by limiting the power of local yangban associations as subordinate to the officials of the central government. In short, the crisis of the late Choson state should be examined in the context of its enhanced centralization, social engagements, and local penetration.

The Crisis of the Late Chosn State and the Korean Elite Reformers It is unclear why the Choson dynasty’s prosperity in the eighteenth century met its sudden decline after the death of King Chongjo in 1800. What exactly caused the successive popular rebellions? Problems of taxation and corruption of officials were prominent. But were officials more corrupt in the nineteenth century than in earlier periods? If so, why? One immediate reason could be weak monarchs. After King Chongjo died, his successors could not restrain the power of the consort families and dominant aristocratic lineages. This means that the Choson state’s heightened centralization accompanied a weak court dominated by powerful aristocratic lineages and the estrangement of local aristocrats from central politics. These changed center-local dynamics influenced the directions of the Korean reform movements. The elite reformers found a limited political space in the royal court and had to rely on the king’s favor for reform at the center. In local areas, the reformers could find potential allies among the discontented local elites so as to create a new social basis for reform and for countering corrupt government officials. This is one reason the Korean reform movements did not present a “neat” class or social-status division. The crux of the late Choson state’s crisis was the shrinking revenue base—a problem exacerbated by the corruption of officials. The crimes of local clerks were conspicuous in the local administrative records. The 1822 reports of the P’yongan provincial government (Kwanso Kyerok) recorded the charges levied against those who were exiled to the province, along with their social status. The records show that more than half (thirty-two) of the sixty-three exile cases were related to the abuse of official power. In thirty-five cases, the exiles were local clerks or constables. The most frequent charge against local officials was embezzlement of government revenue. The Choson state harshly punished official crimes.29 But it lacked adequate institutions to prevent officials from misusing their power in the first place. It may be that the centralization in the eighteenth century itself aggravated this problem. After local yangban associations lost their 29. “Kwanso Kyerok,” in Kaksa Tungnok (hereafter KSTN), vol. 29.

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autonomy in local administration, they may not have effectively counterbalanced agents of the government. When official corruption prevented the government from performing its taxation and relief measures, this undoubtedly accelerated the discontent of the local population, who barely escaped the annual spring famines through government relief. The central court ministers recognized the official corruption and revenue crisis, and frequently discussed reforms. Yet they also were careful not to institute policies that could damage their own interests. Two court episodes in the early nineteenth century illustrate the official conflicts over how to resolve the crisis: the purge of a reform-minded official, and the court’s delay of a land survey in 1822. The court purged a state official called Im Yop for his remonstration to King Sunjo (1790–1834).30 Im had criticized the widespread sale of official positions, accusing powerful aristocratic families of collecting bribes. This infuriated court officials, who forced the king to dismiss Im. The king refused several times to punish Im but eventually banished him to Kyongwon Prefecture in Korea’s northern region.31 The court seriously considered a new land survey in 1822 to deal with the government’s revenue shortage but eventually decided to delay it. In their discussion, the court officials admitted the urgent need for a survey but reiterated their hesitation, reasoning that it would not be feasible to immediately conduct a large survey.32 It was not until 1898 that the Korean government undertook the first nationwide cadastral survey since 1720.33 These 1822 court anecdotes show that the high court officials could easily frustrate some reform-minded officials critical of the situation despite the king’s defense of the reformers. Under such stalemate conditions in the court, Choson society entered a stage of fundamental crisis in the late nineteenth century. Kim Sun Joo’s article on the 1862 Chinju Rebellion provides a vivid snapshot of Choson society in crisis. Kim illustrates the multiple conditions of local society that led to the rebellion. Landownership in the region was highly polarized because a few prestigious yangban lineages maintained large landholdings, whereas the rest of the local population, including poor yangban households, were being pauperized. Kim finds the immediate cause of the rebellion not in this class structure but in the problems of taxation, especially from the “consolidated land tax” (togyol) and 30. Sunjo sillok, vol. 22, translated in Yijo sillok, vol. 368 (P’yongyang: Sahoekwahak Ch’ulp’ansa, 1991), p. 41. 31. Ibid., pp. 46–50, 53. 32. Ibid., pp. 87–90. 33. Ibid., pp. 101, 126; Edwin H. Gragert, Landownership under Colonial Rule: Korea’s Japanese Experience, 1900–1935 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1994), pp. 27–28; Kim Yong-sop, “Choson Hugi ui Pusejedo Ijongch’aek: 18 segi chung’yop–19 segi chung’ychung’yop,” Han’guk Kundae Nongopsa Yon’gu (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1988), pp. 97–126.

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the corrupt grain loan system. According to Kim, togyol was imposed in the early nineteenth century and became widespread in the southern provinces. Togyol refers to a system in which all taxes, including military taxes and grain loan interest, were combined into “a single land levy” and “collected in cash under the direct supervision of the magistrate.” Under this system, the local government imposed the total tax amount on a village as a whole unit, rather than on each taxpayer household. As a result, all the villagers, rich or poor, were affected by the heavy tax levy or increase, which was often prompted by official embezzlement or the “investment failure” of local clerks who loaned tax revenues to the outside market in order to earn profits and increase the revenue.34 Kim ultimately emphasizes the rebellion’s conservative characteristics and the central government’s strength to manage the crisis. King Ch’olchong (1850– 1863) sent Pak Kyu-su, the renowned reformist official, as his special commissioner to investigate and end the 1862 rebellion. Reflecting the agendas of the rebels, King Ch’olchong promulgated reform policies including “abolition of the consolidated land tax,” “prohibition of the illegal creation of new tax items,” and transformation of the grain loan system into a fixed-rate land tax. As Kim noted, this reform proposal was aborted soon after its announcement.35 Turning to the late nineteenth century, such abrogation indicates not just the Choson state’s capacity to solve problems but the fact that its crisis was “irreversible” without fundamental reform. When several reform attempts failed in the 1870s and 1880s, the social unrest expressed in the1862 rebellion broke out as a large-scale peasant insurgency against the central court in the 1894 Tonghak Rebellion. It may not be a coincidence that the Enlightenment School, the new Korean elite reformers, emerged from the intelligent young guests of Pak Kyu-su, the royal commissioner who had met the 1862 rebels and observed the “abrogation” of the king’s reform proposal. The Enlightenment School leaders differed from the reform-minded literati of the earlier period in that they found a vision of change in nonorthodox sources of knowledge from the West and Japan.36 The reformers lived politically tumultuous lives, and most of their writings were newspaper columns or articles published during reform movements. The elite reformers never overruled the king’s power, apparently self-censoring their 34. Sun Joo Kim, “Taxes, the Local Elite, and the Rural Populace in the Chinju Uprising of 1862,” Journal of Asian Studies 66, no. 4 (November 2007): 993–1027. 35. Ibid., pp. 1016–1018. 36. The origin of the reform movement is found in the rise of the Enlightenment School. There are several theories on when the school and its reformist thoughts were formulated. While Sin Yongha argues that it was in the 1850s, Yi Kwang-nin suggests that it was in mid-1874, ten years before the Kapsin palace coup. See Wang Hyon-jong, Han’guk Kundae ui Hyongsong kwa Kabo Kaehyok (Seoul: Yoksa pip’yongsa, 2003), p. 58.

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writings to avoid directly offending royal authority. Still, their writings do reveal their original foci, inasmuch as they stress certain issues and prioritize them over others for Korea. In general, the Korean elite reformers tried to impose constraints, whether “elitist” or “democratic,” on the state’s power. At the center, they tried to establish an institution through which reform-minded officials could control reform and check the power of the monarch and his court. In the provinces, they planned to reorganize local elite associations as shields against official corruption and power abuse. These reformist elites perceived the great merits of a constitutional monarchy but took a gradual approach in carrying out such a scheme in Korea.37 Elite reformers successively attempted to rearrange institutions of the monarchy in the Kapsin Palace Coup (1884), the Kabo Reform (1894–1896), and the Independence Club Movement (1896–1899). The 1884 Palace Coup leaders planned to use the council of ministers and vice ministers (taesin ch’amch’an hoeui) to control key administrative decisions and their execution.38 This plan was radical in that it would have drastically reduced the power of the monarch and aristocratic families. After the failure of the coup, elite reformers moderated this position and proposed a “common rule of the monarch and the people” (kunmin kongch’i) in the late 1880s.39 This proposition of joint rule was a compromise toward the monarch and guided the elite reformers of the 1894 cabinet. The cabinet abolished the social status system and the privileges for yangban in official recruitment.40 The cabinet also attempted to establish the division of legal, administrative, and judicial powers and to make the cabinet, instead of the king’s court, central in government. They divided the Council of State Affairs (Uijongbu) from the Ministry of the Royal Household (Kungnaebu) in order to separate state administration from management of the royal household.41 The reformers of the 1894 cabinet proposed articles to reform the local elite associations (hyanghoe) and to make them represent a broader spectrum of local residents. They suggested that remodeled local elite associations assist the government in reforming its finances and tax collection. The reformers thought that the old tax-collection process increased the problems of local officials and 37. See Yu Kil-jun, “Segye Taeseron,” in Yu Kil-jun Chonso, vol. 3 (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1982) , pp. 37–60. 38. Wang Hyon-jong, Han’guk Kundae Kukka ui Hyongsong kwa Kabo Kaehyok, p. 73. 39. Ibid., pp. 74–85 and 421–430. 40. Yu Yong-ik, Kabo Kyongjang Yon’gu (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1990), pp. 214–216. 41. When King Kojong resisted this move, the Japanese made gestures of supporting the king and advised him to call Pak Yong-hyo, an 1884 coup leader in exile and the son-in-law of King Cholchong. Repatriated from Japan, Pak supported Kojong in the conflicts with the reform cabinet yet proposed his own reform position. Pak strategized to reform local elite associations. He wished to reshuffle the status of local elite associations from “pawns” of the local administration to “representatives” of the local elites vis-à-vis the state.

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functionaries who, without supervision, were prone to exploit the taxpayers and embezzle state revenue. They separated the tax-collection process from the jurisdiction of local magistrates and provincial governors, and they expected local associations to “represent” taxpayers in the tax administration of the central government.42 In November 1895, the reformist cabinet formulated “regulations on local associations” (hyanghoe chogyu) and “regulations on reforming local contracts” (hyangyak p’anmu kyujong). The Kun’gukkimuch’o, headquarters of the Kabo Reform, had defined “local association” as the “organization for local selfgovernment” in a July 1894 article on the establishment of local associations (hyanghoe sollip e kwanhan gon). The article stated that associations have the right to issue orders and medical policies (uiryo) on matters for which county representatives make decisions. The article also indicates that members of the local associations are selected through the recommendations of county residents. Yu Kil-jun proposed that the 1895 hyanghoe chogyu instruct local associations to form according to the three units of local administrative structure—namely, prefecture association (kunhoe), county association (myonhoe), and village association (ihoe). The regulations attempted to abolish the practice of local governments controlling the process of selecting leaders of local county associations, such as chonwi or local directorates (chipkang). The regulations also eliminated status-based discrimination for membership in local associations. These regulations were intended to change the character of the old local associations, whose leaders were yangban aristocrats or conservative local elites and whose roles were subordinate to the local governments. However, the reformist cabinet did not publish these 1895 regulations in its official gazette (kwanbo), although its members had settled on these regulations after rigorous discussions.43 The tenure of the reformist cabinet was too short for these regulations to transform local society. More research is needed to understand how local institutions were transformed during the post-Kabo period. Yi Yong-ho estimates that after the frustration of the Kabo plan, officials of local associations stayed on as assistants of magistrates and continued traditional elite practices of social order, such as local contracts (hyangyak).44 The Korean elite reformers, in their small numbers, could not dominate the court and sought Japan’s military support despite suspicions of Japan’s real intentions. The elite reformers maintained complicated relations with Kojong and 42. Kim T’ae-ung, “Kaehang Chonhu—Taehan Chegukki ui Chibang Chaejong Kaehyok Yon’gu,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1997, p. 117. 43. Wang Hyon-jong, Han’guk Kundae Kukka ui Hyongsong kwa Kabo Kaehyok, pp. 286–288. 44. Yi Yong-ho, Han’guk Kundae Chise Chedo wa Nongmin Undong (Seoul: Seoul National University Press, 2001), pp. 99–111, 202–203.

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lost his commitment at several critical moments. They promoted the notion of a “wealthy country and strong army,” but their premise for achieving them was the renovation of the dynasty’s political institutions so as to limit the power of the monarch. The reformers of the 1894 cabinet did not yet see the people’s greater political participation as an option.

The 1894 Tonghak Rebellion and Peasant Local Directorates (Chipkangso) In parallel with the movements of elite reformers, the popular protests, which largely remained within their regional boundaries in the 1860s, grew to a national insurgency in 1894. The Tonghak religion facilitated ideological and organizational connections among believers and resentful peasants. The founder of the religion, Ch’oe Che-u, created his doctrine in 1860 and began its propagation in 1862. Shaken by the Opium War and China’s surrender to Western power, Ch’oe named his religion “Eastern Learning” so as to counter “Western Learning” (sohak), which at the time referred to Catholicism in Korea. Ch’oe considered Christianity a fundamental source of Western strength, more formidable than military force.45 He did not, however, completely demonize Christianity or the West, saying that “Tonghak and Catholicism have the Heavenly Way in common.” This differed from the Confucian orthodoxy that denounced the West as “bestial” and declared its culture and knowledge incompatible with Confucian civilization.46 As Tonghak followers grew, the government persecuted adherents of the religion, and it executed Ch’oe on March 10, 1864.47 Tonghak preached that “Man is heaven” (in nae chon) and counseled its followers to “Revere all human beings as if they are heaven” (sa in yo ch’on).48 Ch’oe Che-u’s successor, Ch’oe Si-hyong (1827–1898), reinforced the egalitarian nature of the religion’s doctrine and exhorted believers to treat human beings equally, without discriminating on the basis of social status, wealth, or gender.49 This doctrine was revolutionary at the time and was quickly adopted by those of lower status. Because the Tonghaks’ message had subversive secular implications,

45. Yong-ha Shin, “Establishment of Tonghak and Ch’oe Che-u,” Seoul Journal of Korean Studies 3 (December 1990): 85–88, 93; Yong-ha Shin, “Conjunction of Tonghak and the Peasant War of 1894,” Korea Journal 34, no. 4 (Winter 1994): 63. 46. Yong-ha Shin, “Establishment of Tonghak and Ch’oe Che-u,” p. 94. 47. Yong-ha Shin, “Conjunction of Tonghak and the Peasant War of 1894,” pp. 61–64. 48. Susan Shin, “The Tonghak Movement: From Enlightenment to Revolution,” Korean Studies Forum 5 (Winter–Spring 1978–1979): 31–32; Yong-ha Shin, “Conjunction of Tonghak and the Peasant War of 1894,” pp. 65–66. 49. Susan Shin, “The Tonghak Movement,” pp. 31–32.

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the believers’ assemblies became places where the people expressed their social frustrations.50 From the time of the Poun Assembly in the spring of 1893, Tonghak petitions expressed anti-foreign sentiments and requested the reform of local administration.51 These assemblies escalated into the large-scale military uprising of 1894. Although Tonghaks played crucial roles in the insurgency, non-Tonghak peasants and lower-status groups also joined the uprising. Thus some scholars emphasize class conflict as an underpinning of the insurgency, calling it the 1894 Peasant War. The 1894 insurgency unfolded in three stages. First, on the twentieth day of the third month in the lunar calendar, a peasant army captured Chonju Castle, the capital of Cholla Province. Alarmed by the force of the peasant army, King Kojong requested the dispatch of Qing China’s troops to subdue the rebels. Japan in turn sent troops to counter China’s according to the 1885 Tientsin Convention. Then, afraid of triggering a Sino-Japanese war, the Korean government and the peasant army reached a truce (the Chonju Peace Agreement) on the eighth day of the fifth month, 1894. Six weeks later, the peasant army staged another uprising when Japanese troops occupied the Kyongbok Royal Palace on the twenty-fifth day of the sixth month. Under the slogan “Expel Westerners and the Japanese,” the peasant soldiers opposed the cabinet of elite reformers and their collusion with Japan.52 The peasant army recaptured Chonju Castle and marched toward Seoul, the country’s capital. Ten thousand peasant soldiers were finally defeated by an allied army of Japanese and Korean soldiers, approximately two thousand strong.53 Between the Chonju Agreement and the final defeat, the peasant army established local directorates called chipkangso in fifty-three prefectures of Cholla Province and enforced peasant control of the local administration.54 Scholars of the 1894 insurgency disagree on the process by which the rebels reached the truce. Recent studies argue that the peasant army recognized their weakness after losing battles against the regular expeditionary troops of the Korean government.55 The government also wanted to avoid making the country a battleground between China and Japan if the peasant rebels were willing to withdraw.56

50. Yong-ha Shin, “Conjunction of Tonghak and the Peasant War of 1894,” p. 59. 51. Susan Shin, “The Tonghak Movement,” p. 43. 52. Kim Yang-sik, “Illich’a Chonju Hwayak kwa Chipkangso Unyong,” Yoksa Yon’gu, vol. 2, p. 155. 53. Young-hee Suh, “Tracing the Course of the Peasant War of 1894,” Korea Journal 34, no. 4 (Winter 1994): 28. Approximately 20,000–30,000 peasants participated in the Battle of Chonju and reoccupied Chonju Castle. When Kim Kae-nam, the radical commander in the peasant army leadership, attacked Namwon Castle, 50,000–70,000 peasants joined the battle at its peak. 54. Young-hee Suh, “Tracing the Course of the Peasant War of 1894,” Korea Journal 34, no. 4 (Winter 1994): 19–20. 55. Pae Hang-sop, “Chipkangso Sigi Tonghak Nongmingun ui Hwalgdong Yangsang e kwan’han Ilgoch’al: Oese ui Kaeip i Mich’in Yonghyang ul Chungsim uro,” Yoksa Hakpo 153 (1997): 69–72. 56. Ibid.

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In exchange for agreeing to the truce, Chon Pong-jun, commander of the peasant army, demanded that the government accept the reform proposals of the peasant army and guarantee the safety of peasant soldiers when returning to their hometowns. Chon also tried hard to control the violence of peasant soldiers.57 Chon’s counterpart, Kim Hak-chin, the Cholla governor, worried that peasant troops who retained their weapons would carry out personal vendettas against yangban aristocrats or slave owners, assault government officials or local clerks, and wrench money and grain from wealthy people in local areas. Governor Kim conceded that the peasant army could select local directorates among themselves and hold local directorate halls (chipkangso). In short, the governor delegated to the peasant army the authority to preserve local order in some areas within its control.58 “Local directorate” (chipkang) was not a new term in the late Choson administration. Chipkang originally referred to those who chaired local associations or advisory bureaus to assist local magistrates.59 The peasant local directorates adhered to the official channels connecting the court, governors, and magistrates but replaced local elite networks in the role of local administration. Thus the peasant local directorates shifted social initiatives from traditional elites to the peasant rebels. Where the peasant army was not strong enough to replace the existing local order, it could not quell violent conflicts with the existing local elite associations or bureaus. Where the rebels were weak, the conservative local directorates simply prevailed. The peasant local directorates carried on their key reform proposals,60 dismissing corrupt officials, abolishing the social status system, rectifying tax collection, and curtailing foreigners’ commercial activities.61 During the second uprising, the peasant army went further, destroying government offices, seizing weapons, burning official records such as family registers, freeing slaves, and

57. Young-hee Suh, “Tracing the Course of the Peasant War of 1894,” p. 23. With Chon Pongjun’s consent to Kim’s terms of truce, the Chipkangso period began. In keeping with his promise to Kim Hak-chin, Chon Pong-jun ordered his troops to keep a low profile. However, he soon proved ineffectual in preventing peasants from using the authority of the Chipkangso to satisfy personal grudges against the ruling elites. 58. Kim Yang-sik, “Illich’a Chonju Hwayak kwa Chipkangso Unyong,” Yoksa Yon’gu, vol. 2, pp. 133–146. 59. Ibid., p. 119. 60. “The Four-Point Manifesto of the Peasant Army” set forth the following platform: (1) Do not kill innocent people; do not destroy other people’s property. (2) Fulfill the duties of loyalty and filial piety; protect the country and comfort the people. (3) Expel the Japanese barbarians and restore the Way of the Confucian Sages. (4) Storm the capital and eliminate [the government of] the powerful families and the aristocrats. 61. Young-ho Lee, “The Socioeconomic Background and the Growth of the New Social Forces of the 1894 Peasant War,” pp. 92–95; Ahn Byung-ook and Park Chan-seung, “Historical Characteristics of the Peasant War of 1894,” Korea Journal 34, no. 4 (1994): 105.

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reviling corrupt and exploitative government officials.62 They also in many cases burned land registers with tax records and refused to pay rent after the fall harvest of that year. The Tonghak History (Tonghaksa), written during the colonial period, states that the peasant reform proposals included “equal distribution of land to tillers.” This request for land distribution has been accepted as evidence of the revolutionary character of the 1894 insurgency. However, scholars now speculate that the author O Chi-yong may have added this article later.63 The controversy over this article will be revisited in Chapter 6. The political direction of the insurgency was complicated. The commander, Chon Pong-jun, showed a conservative orientation, for he was of marginalized yangban descent and had received a Confucian education.64 In the first uprising, Chon demanded the return of the Taewon’gun (prince regent), Kojong’s father, who had adopted an isolationist policy and repelled French and American invasions in the 1860s and 1870s. In the second uprising, Chon promoted the slogan “Expel Westerners and the Japanese” and portrayed the peasant soldiers as “Righteous Armies” who would protect the country from invasion.65 The Taewon’gun indeed returned to a position of power on June 22, 1894, when Enlightenment School leaders organized a reformist cabinet with support from Japan’s military power.66 Yet the Taewon’gun’s return had a minimal impact. The deliberative council of the cabinet (kun’guk kimuch’o) swiftly passed various reform laws, addressing the peasant army’s own demands to the central government, which had been delivered via Governor Kim Hak-chin of Cholla Province. The peasant army did not oppose the reformist laws of the cabinet but did criticize its dependence on Japan. The reformist cabinet conceived of the SinoJapanese War as Japan’s “effort to confirm Korea’s independence” and assumed an “obligation” to “support the Japanese army both materially and morally.” In August 1894, the reformist cabinet decided to repress the peasant army’s increasingly violent acts in the three southern provinces. Regarding the peasant army as an adversary of reform rather than as an ally, elite reformers empathized more with the yangban aristocrats and local elites who were being humiliated, robbed of their properties, and stripped of local power by the peasant soldiers. In early

62. Young-hee Suh, “Tracing the Course of the Peasant War of 1894,” pp. 19–20; Ahn and Park, “Historical Characteristics of the Peasant War of 1894,” p. 104; Yong-Ick Lew, “The Conservative Character of the 1894 Tonghak Peasant Uprising: Reappraisal with Emphasis on Chon Pong-jun’s Background and Motivation,” Journal of Korean Studies 7 (1990): 149–180. 63. Ahn and Park, “Historical Characteristics of the Peasant War of 1894,” p. 104; Yong-Ick Lew, “Conservative Character of the 1894 Tonghak Peasant Uprising.” This debate will be revisited in Chapter 6 of this book. 64. Yong-Ick Lew, “Conservative Character of the 1894 Tonghak Peasant Uprising.” 65. Young-hee Suh, “Tracing the Course of the Peasant War of 1894,” pp. 20–25. 66. Ahn and Park, “Historical Characteristics of the Peasant War of 1894,” pp. 104–106.

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September 1894, the reformist cabinet asked the Japanese army to help start a full-scale suppression of the rebels.67 When Chon remobilized the peasant army for the second uprising, Ch’oe Si-hyong, the leader of the Northern Assembly of the Tonghak religion, objected to the decision. As the successor of the religion’s founder, Ch’oe wielded religious authority among Tonghak believers. He criticized Commander Chon and his Southern Assembly for being too concerned about the rectification of secular issues and too radical in absorbing peasant demands. Ch’oe especially resented the second uprising. “Rationalizing their actions in the name of the righteous cause,” he thundered, “those in the Southern Assembly of Tonghak have molested commoners and harmed our brothers of the faith.” After the defeat of the 1894 insurgency, the Northern Assembly reclaimed leadership of the Tonghak religion and converted the believers to a pro-Japan, pro-reform position. It was from the Northern Assembly that the Ilchinhoe local branch leadership then emerged.

The Independence Club and the New Culture of Popular Demonstrations The 1894 cabinet of elite reformers perished when Kojong fled to the Russian Legation in February 1896. The Japanese assassination of Queen Min, on December 8, 1895, struck Kojong hard and made him more distrustful of the elite reformers and their pro-Japanese direction. The court rang with remonstrations from infuriated aristocrats who demanded merciless revenge for the “assistance” of pro-Japanese reformers in the queen’s assassination. The substance of these remonstrations reveals the shifting positions of yangban aristocrats in this period. Watching the crisis of the royal house and fearful of losing their own aristocratic privileges, they gathered in support of Kojong, expecting him to reverse the most “radical” regulations of the 1894 reformist cabinet. Although Kojong modified the decree prohibiting topknots that had provoked the armed resistance of the Confucian aristocrats, he did not reverse the reform articles of the Kabo Reform, such as the abolition of the social status system.68 Kojong instead put forth his own reform effort to strengthen the monarchy by targeting key government institutions, especially a strong army and a robustly financed Korean imperial house. Kojong enthroned himself as emperor and declared the new title of his reign to be Kwangmu, thus elevating the status of the country to

67. Ibid., pp. 106–110. 68. Kojong Sillok, vol. 33, 32/11/16; vol. 34, 33/01/07, 33/01/11, 33/03/04, 33/04/08 (lunar calendar dates).

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that of China. Korean historians call the reforms of Kojong after this enthronement “the Kwangmu Reform.” Elite reformers, in the meantime, organized the Independence Club (Tongniphyophoe). Ousted from government, they criticized the government and official misconduct and promoted education of the people and their political participation. They printed the daily newspaper The Independent in the Korean alphabet, Hangul, to make it accessible to ordinary Koreans. The assemblies of the Independence Club fostered a new political culture that attracted urban crowds in popular demonstrations and voluntary political participation. The model of the Independence Club was close to that of a modern political party. Club members even tried to make a club badge to wear so as to recognize fellow members.69 The club expanded its local branches with a vision of constructing a parliament and published its regulations in December 1898 for organizing the branches. First, to start a local branch, more than three people should agree on the club’s purpose. Second, the initial members should organize more than fifty additional members in the region. Third, for there to be a branch established in the region, the population should exceed 3,000 people. Fourth, eligible members should manage their household assets (kasan) well and be in possession of good knowledge and education. Once the members of a branch satisfied these four conditions, they should find a trustworthy sponsor among club headquarters members who could guarantee the fulfillment of the four conditions and who could recommend the branch. Club headquarters should dispatch a knowledgeable member to local branches every year to screen the branches. Club headquarters should cover expenses for the dispatch and have the authority to cancel the authorization of local branches if they violated the purpose and regulations of the club.70 The Independence Club also devised an intriguing organizational practice, the ch’ongdae system. In the Independent, the term ch’ongdae is sometimes used to refer to the executive of a foreign bank or company.71 Outside the context of the Independence Club, there were cases when the Korean government used the term ch’ongdae or ch’ongdae wiwon for the official who compiled the list of merit service earned in subduing the Tonghak Rebellion.72 In most cases, however, the 69. They suggested a badge design that would be round, silver, and have at its center the pattern of t’aeguk (the Great Absolute) in blue; surrounding the pattern at the round edge, there would be eight letters carved in Korean, reading tongnip hyophoe ch’unggun aeguk (Independence Club, loyal to emperor, love for country). Independent (hereafter ID), March 15, 1898. 70. ID, December 15, 1898. 71. ID, April 12, 1898; August 16, 1898. 72. “Pak Pong-yang Kyongnyokso,” Tonghak Nongmin Hyokmyong Charyo Ch’ongso, http:// www.history.go.kr/url.jsp?ID=NIKH.DB-prd_0040_hj, accessed January 2, 2013. Ch’ongdae was also used to refer to the delegates of associations to a funeral of high officials. “Minch’ungjonggong Sillok,” Minch’ungjonggong Yugo 5 Purok, p. 204, http://www.history.go.kr/url.jsp?ID=NIKH.DB-sa _007_0050_0010, accessed January 2, 2013.

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Independent used the term for the delegates or representatives that a group sent to government officials or other organizations to deliver the group’s opinions and to negotiate with or protest against their counterparts. These delegates did not hold the club’s standing positions but were appointed on an ad hoc basis for certain tasks. The Independent Club’s usage of ch’ongdae in this context was the immediate origin of the Ilchinhoe’s use of the same term in the phrase “delegates of the twenty million people” (ich’onman min ui ch’ongdae) vis-à-vis the government. According to Independent reports, participants in popular assemblies selected their ch’ongdae and sent them to the relevant government agencies. It is unclear whether these on-the-spot selections were spontaneous or had been prearranged by the club. It looks as though the main speakers at the assemblies were selected as their delegates. The delegates had to be men of good education because they had to compose petitions or letters in order to deliver the opinions of the assemblies to the government. The Independent reported that the selection looked spontaneous or was at least approved by participants in the assemblies. For instance, one Independent article noted, “About ten thousand participants [inmin] of the Common Assembly of the Entire People [manmin kongdonghoe] selected one rice merchant [mijon sijong] as the chair of the assembly and sent their delegates to the government.” In this assembly, Syngman Rhee, the first president of South Korea, was selected as one of the three delegates who delivered the position of the assembly to the foreign minister of the Korean government.73 The government called the Independence Club’s public gatherings minhoe, “the people’s assemblies.” This practice was new in a society where “the people” were not entitled to participate in politics, and it generated a “culture of urban demonstrations.” The historical symbol of this new culture was the club’s manmin kongdonghoe. The first meeting of the assembly was held in Chongno, Seoul, on March 10, 1898. Assembly participants protested the government’s economic concessions to Russia and the Western powers. They demanded the withdrawal of Russian financial advisors and military trainers, closure of the KoreanRussian Bank, and refusal of the Russian request for a lease of Ch’olyong Island (current Yongdo) in Pusan. The demands of protesters were eventually satisfied when Russia decided to set up a military base in China (Liaotung) instead of Pusan, withdrew its advisors, and closed the Korean-Russian Bank.74 Following this success, the Independence Club launched a movement to establish a national assembly in April 1898. Members held the conference in Independence Hall (Tongnipkwan) on the establishment of a parliament (uihoewon)

73. ID, March 12, 1898. 74. Sin Yong-ha, Han’guk Kundae Sahoesa Yon’gu (Seoul: Ilchisa, 1987), pp. 61–62.

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and expedited the expansion of its local branches.75 In October 1898, the club held demonstrations in front of the palace in response to the Kwangmu government’s attempts to revive the guilt-by-association system and other repressive laws (noryukpop) that the 1894 cabinet had eliminated. Club leaders mobilized a thousand people a day and continued their demonstrations for a week. These demonstrations dissuaded the government from reviving the laws. Members did not halt their protests following this success, instead going on to demand the resignations of seven high officials in the government. Popular excitement over the demonstrations was remarkable. An anonymous intellectual recorded in his diary his observation of the assembly held in front of the Palace Gate of Benevolence and Harmony on August 24, 1898. He described the ardor of the gathering and the participation of small traders and their voluntary contributions to the Independence Club: Some made speeches and some collected contributions, then this money came to be what the Club used for its expenses. . . . Some gave one won, while others gave two won, or even tens of chon.76 Among the audience, there were indeed those who emptied their pockets . . . there occasionally came vendors of roasted chestnuts or candy seller boys. Indeed, they all voluntarily contributed their money. In the middle of this assembly, when I was watching this support from the audience, one person came forward and called the chairman of the Club, saying, “Now, with this support from the audience, especially the support from the vendors of roasted chestnuts and candy seller boys . . . we should write this story [of popular support] up and send it to the newspaper publishers to make it known to the world. How about it?” All the people surrounding the person cheered in applause and replied, “Agreed! Agreed!”77 The Independence Club took “loyalty to the emperor and patriotism for the country” as its motto. The club did not directly offend Kojong, distinguishing him from his “wicked” officials. But club members harped on the misconduct of government officials and obsessively requested their resignation when deemed “disqualified,” “corrupt,” or in violation of laws. They sent petitions and letters to government agencies and requested meetings with the officials on duty to discuss their concerns. This pattern of political conduct was exactly what the Ilchinhoe would later replicate.

75. ID, April 9, 1898. 76. The chon is an old monetary unit that was equal to one hundredth of a won. 77. Ilsin (Seoul: Kuksa P’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1983), p. 5.

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Kojong saw this movement as a threat to his power and condemned it anxiously, claiming that, among its violations, the Independence Club had “ignored government orders, rudely repudiated the court, and expelled the ministers.” He resented the fact that, despite several imperial ordinances, club members did not withdraw but stirred up the people for club purposes.78 In retaliation, Kojong ordered the dissolution of the organization on the eve of the first election for the national assembly. Club members and their supporters resisted this order and continued demonstrations for forty-two days in Seoul. But finally, in December 1898, Kojong enforced martial law and arrested 340 leaders of the Independence Club. He sent troops to break up the demonstrations and forbade popular assemblies.79 After this setback, most opposition groups went underground for several years, until the Russo-Japanese War undermined the supremacy of the monarch.

A Confrontational Path: King’s Power and the People’s Protest Previous historical narratives on the Korean reformist movements have centered on their repeated “failures” and their ultimate inability to resist Japan’s colonization of Korea. This focus blinds us to the broader issues that Korean reformers raised and to the impact of their movements from a longer historical perspective. It may also be a myth that Japanese colonial rule destroyed the institutional underpinnings of the late Choson state and established its dominance on the ruins of the monarchy. Since the eighteenth century, the Choson state had undergone important changes: the state’s power was increasingly concentrated in the central government, and the court was controlled by a small number of aristocratic lineages. This concentration of power did not necessarily signify the monarchy’s deterioration or weakness, at least up to the early nineteenth century, because it accompanied the state’s broader public engagements, facilitated its local penetration, and cultivated complex local dynamics restraining the power of local aristocrats. The late Choson state was institutionally strong, yet left little autonomous social or geographical space in which its challengers could grow in power. With such “strength,” the Korean monarchy could subdue major rebellions in local areas and thwart the movements of elite reformers until the late nineteenth century. However, such prolonged containments of challenges hindered a fundamental solution to the monarchy’s crisis and made the Korean reformers more 78. ID, November 7, 1898. 79. Sin Yong-ha, Han’guk Kundae Sahoesa Yon’gu, p. 79.

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prone to constrain the power of the king and his government. In local areas, both reformist elites and peasant rebels attempted to develop alternative schemes to replace the established local networks of the central government. As mentioned before, the reformers of the1894 cabinet formulated articles to expand the social bases of local elite associations, forbid government intervention in selecting their leaders, and transform them into “local representatives.” The Tonghak rebels, for a brief period, experimented with popular control of local affairs, filling the positions of the local advisory bureaus with peasant soldiers. “A confrontational path” emerged against the monarchy in the Korean reformist movements when the Independence Club directly mobilized the people against the government and advocated the “people’s rights” and their political participation. Informed by the American model of democracy, the Independence Club challenged government authority, demanded the election of provincial governors and magistrates, and attempted to construct a parliament.80 During the same period, Kojong strengthened his direct control of the government and repressed with hostility the popular assemblies and their demonstrations. Kojong’s reform was not entirely reactionary. He expanded the social status parameters for the bureaucracy and recruited nonaristocratic elites as “technocrats” after the 1894 cabinet eliminated aristocratic barriers in official recruitment.81 But Kojong neither accommodated a “democratic” orientation of the Independence Club nor appeased the economic concerns of ordinary people.82 Kojong retracted reforms that the 1894 reform cabinet had enacted to reduce taxpayers’ burdens83 and also moved major sources of state revenue from the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Finance to the Royal Treasury.84 He also made various economic concessions to foreign powers, partly forced and partly in an attempt to balance one foreign power with others. These policies increased people’s anxieties instead of resolving them. 80. On the Independence Club’s position on the election of local officials, see ID, April 14, 1896, 1–2. 81. Kyung Moon Hwang, “Bureaucracy in the Transition of Korean Modernity: Secondary Status Groups and the Transformation of Government and Society, 1880–1930,” PhD diss., Harvard University, 1997. 82. The government dissolved the Independence Club and carried out punitive expeditions against Tonghak rebels in the 1890s. 83. The Kabo government eradicated the hwan’gok (grain loan system) and min’go (people’s fund) from tax bases of local governments and transferred the lands affiliated with local governments into the revenues of the central government (sungch’ong). They also eliminated many items of untitled miscellaneous taxes. 84. Kim Chae-ho, “Kabo Kaehyok ihu Kundaejok Chaejong Chedo ui Hyongsong Kwajong e kwanhan Yon’gu, 1894–1910,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1997; Kim T’ae-ung, “Kaehang Chonhu”; Yang Sang-hyon, “Najangwon Chaejong Kwalli Yon’gu,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1997; Yi Yun-sang, “1894–1910 Chaejong Chedo wa Unyong ui Pyonhwa,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1996.

THE KOREAN REFORMERS AND THE LATE CHOSON STATE

45

This culture of confrontation and urban demonstrations changed the popular attitudes toward the monarchy and spread beyond the circle of elite reformers. The Independent articulated the ideas in defense of popular challenges against the government rather than reversing them. The Ilchinhoe ardently embraced such popular turns in the Independence Club movement and replicated the club’s strategies with the Ilchinhoe’s own interpretations and agendas.

2 PEOPLE AND FOREIGNERS The Northwestern Provinces, 1896–1904

An Chung-gun (1879–1910), a Catholic Korean youth, assassinated Ito Hirobumi (1841–1909) in 1909 and became an icon of Korean patriotism and nationalism. He wrote in his memoir that he had killed Ito for the peace of East Asia (tongyang p’yonghwa) because Ito had broken his “promise” to protect Korean independence when Japan waged war against Russia. An recalled his jubilation upon seeing Japan prevail in the Russo-Japanese War and his bitter sense of deception when Ito Hirobumi proclaimed protectorate rule in Korea.1 An’s life is emblematic of many Korean reformers who admitted the strength of Western civilization and approved the success of Meiji Japan and its Pan-Asianist discourse, yet ended their political careers as militant nationalists.2 An’s conversion to Catholicism and to Pan-Asianism reflected the ideological uncertainty and fluidity that the Korean elite reformers underwent during the post-Kabo period (1896–1904), the years between the First Sino-Japanese War and the Russo-Japanese War. The popular movements of the time conveyed such fluidity. Exposed to multiple foreign encroachments and influences, the people 1. An Chung-gun, “Tongyang P’yonghwaron,” An Chung-gun Uisa Chasojon (Seoul: Pomusa, 2000), pp. 119–123; An Chung-gun, “An Ungch’il Yoksa,” in literary Chinese, trans. by Yi Unsang, in An Chung-gun Uisa Chasojon (Seoul: An Chung-gun uisa sungmohoe, 1979), pp. 95–97, 122–123, and 116–117. 2. When An Chung-gun was sentenced to death for his assassination of Ito on February 14, 1910, his family moved to the Maritime Province of Siberia (yonhaeju) to escape Japanese repression. Many of An’s brothers and cousins participated in the Korean Independence Movement after his death. An Chung-gun, An Chung-gun Uisa Chasojon (Seoul: Pomusa, 2000), pp. 20–21; Cho Kwang, “An Chung-gun Yongu ui Hyonhwang kwa Kwaje,” Han’guk Kunhyondaesa Yon’gu 12 (Spring 2000): 187–193. 46

PEOPLE AND FOREIGNERS

47

expressed their issues and troubles in the form of various movements, protests, and political arrangements. The Ilchinhoe members brought to their movement these diverse elements found in popular movements between 1896 and 1904; the Ilchinhoe movement was not simply fabricated by the Japanese. Kirk Larsen characterizes the period from 1882 to 1904 as the years that Qing China exercised multilateral imperialism in Korea. This multilateral imperialism survived, Larsen argues, even after China’s defeat in the Sino-Japanese War because the British, in replacing the Qing dynasty, counteracted Japan’s unilateral approach for exclusive privileges and sponsored the multilateral treaty port system.3 This thesis revises the perception that considers the post-Kabo period a mere interlude between Chinese “suzerainty” and Japanese domination over Korea. The ascendance of Western powers after the Triple Intervention terminated the Chinese domination of the Korean court after 1882 and caused Japan’s political setback in the Korean Peninsula. Western diplomats, missionaries, and businessmen had more access to the Korean court and pressed the Korean government to accept their demands and interests. This politics of concessions indeed integrated Korea more tightly with the rest of the world and caused social unrest. Such unrest was more conspicuous in the northwestern provinces than in other regions of the peninsula. Christian missionaries, Catholic as well as Protestant, reported great success in the northwest;4 the region’s abundant natural resources, including gold and timber, became the targets of imperialist concessions. Besides, the region’s northern location exposed people to turmoil emanating from China, such as the thriving migration of Chinese into Manchuria and their legal and illegal trade along Korea’s northern border and coastal areas. As people’s encounters with foreigners markedly increased in the region, popular movements developed unprecedented orientations. Popular movements during this period were not simply nationalistic or due purely to local discontent with central domination. Rather, they made fluid and complex connections with the ideas, interests, and power shifts that foreigners and border-crossing movements brought to the region. Catholic rioters in Hwanghae Province, for example, sought the protection of Western missionaries in conflicts with the Korean government. Miners in P’yongan Province, by contrast, resisted Western concessions, which they had experienced as an economic and cultural shock in their lives. Meanwhile, the leadership of the Tonghak religion made a pro-Japanese 3. Kirk Larsen, Tradition, Treaties, and Trade: Qing Imperialism and Choson Korea, 1850–1910 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard East Asian Center, 2008). 4. Yi Kwang-nin, “Kaehwagi Kwanso Chibang kwa Kaesingyo,” Nonmunjip, vol. 1 (Seoul: Sungjon University, 1974), pp. 33–35; Yi Kwang-nin, “P’yongyang kwa Kidokkyo,” Han’guk Kidokkyo wa Yoksa 10 (April 1999): 7–35.

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turn, although the Tonghak peasant armies in the northwestern provinces had fought with the Japanese troops during the 1894 rebellion.5 This repositioning of the Tonghak leadership paralleled the proliferation of Pan-Asianist discourses across the Korean Peninsula after the Sino-Japanese War. Andre Schmid calls the newspaper Hwangsong sinmun (Imperial gazetteer) during this period a main advocate of Korean Pan-Asianism, which “intended initially to protect the sovereignty of Korea against the West and support Japan in its conflict with Russia.” Schmid finds that the editorials of Hwangsong sinmun on the “East” pursued a discursive “middle ground,” refusing to subject the region’s past to the sole “authority” of Western civilization but remaining committed to incorporating the region into a narrative of “global progress and enlightenment.”6 If the elite reformers other than Hwangsong sinmun did not articulate the region as a central element of their discourse, they had nevertheless considered the regional survival or alliance important since the 1880s and strengthened a pro-Japanese position after the Sino-Japanese War. In comparison to Hwangsong sinmun’s “discursive redemption” of Eastern civilization, the pro-Japanese conversion of the Tonghak leadership was more influenced by the presence of Western powers and the threat of the Korean court under Russia’s protection. When the Tonghak leaders in flight were rebuilding their organizations in the northern areas, they may well have witnessed the growth of Catholics and Protestants there.7 At the time, the French Catholic bishop Gustave Mutel supported the Korean monarch8 and tolerated the intervention of Catholic missionaries and Korean believers in local administrative affairs.9 Perhaps the Tonghak leaders, still suffering from the king’s persecution, wanted an East Asian power, Japan, to be a potential sponsor of their religion. This chapter outlines the directions of popular movements in the northwestern provinces between 1896 and 1904. The following sections discuss (1) the riots of Catholics in Hwanghae, (2) the miners’ protests in P’yongan, (3) the impact of the changing East Asian order in the northwestern provinces, and (4) the pro-Japanese positioning of the Tonghak leadership. In general, popular sentiments toward foreigners were fluid and neither locked in traditional values nor predominantly “proto-nationalist.” Both Catholics and miners, despite their divergent attitudes toward Westerners, distanced themselves from the central 5. Kang Hyo-suk, “Hwanghae, P’yongan-do ui che ich’a Tonghak Nongmin Chonjaeng,” Han’guk Kunhyondaesa yon’gu 47 (December 2008): 114–148. 6. Andre Schmid, Korea between Empires, 1895–1919 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), p. 56. 7. Yi Kwang-nin, “P’yongyang kwa Kidokkyo,” p. 11. 8. Gustave Charles Marie Mutel, Journal de Mgr. Mutel, translated in Korean by Han’guk kyohoesa yon’guso (Seoul: Han’guk kyohoesa yon’guso, 1986–2008), 2:70. 9. Gustave Charles Marie Mutel, Journal de Mgr. Mutel, 2:30.

CHINA

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am

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n

rn

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ae

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MAP 1.

Northwestern provinces of Korea.

Seoul Kyo n g g i

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monarchy. At least before the Russo-Japanese War, more militant nationalist ideas did not establish a hegemonic position in the northwestern provinces.

Collaborative Rioters: The Catholic Protests in Hwanghae Province Catholics organized serious protests against the government during the postKabo period and generated the main diplomatic issues between the Korean government and the French Legation in Korea. Catholic churches obtained their legal status after the Korea-France Treaty in 1886, which acknowledged extraterritoriality of the French in Korea and the right of French missionaries to travel Korea’s interior. This eased the Catholic mission of proselytizing Koreans yet did not remove the fear of Koreans who had observed the government cruelty in persecuting Catholics from the late eighteenth to the mid-nineteenth century.10 It was not until the Triple Intervention that Catholic churches saw popular growth. French missionaries claimed extraterritorial rights not only for themselves but sometimes for their Korean converts. Missionaries at times arrested nonbelievers in conflicts with Catholics, or privately punished them. They even tried to free believers in government jails. As a result of this intervention, Catholics emerged as a social force confronting the authority of local governors and magistrates. This was unprecedented and unacceptable in traditional Korean politics.11 The Catholic population in Hwanghae Province increased from 555 in 1896 to about 7,000 in 1902, at which time the total Catholic population in Korea was 52,539.12 The connection between An Chung-gun’s family and the French priest Nicolas J. M. Wilhelm (known in Korean as Hong Sok-ku) facilitated the spread of Catholicism in Hwanghae. This growth accompanied Catholic protests over secular issues, such as taxation and penal administration. The Korean government attributed this secular involvement to the Tonghak remnants whom the government suspected of converting to Christianity after the 1894 rebellion.13 Many government reports indicated that former Tonghaks disguised themselves 10. Kim Tae-ung, “Han’guk Kundae Kaehyokki Chongbu ui P’urangsu Chonch’aek kwa Chonjugyo-Wangsil kwa Mutel ui kwankye rul Chungsim uro,” Yoksa yon’gu 11 (2002): 180. 11. Pak Ch’an-sik, “Hanmal Kyoan kwa Kyomin Choyak,” Kyohoesa yon’gu 27 (December 2006): 59–60. 12. Yun Son-ja, “Hanil Happyong Chonhu Hwanghae-do Ch’onju Kyohoe wa Pillem Sinbu,” Han’guk Kunhyondaesa yon’gu 4 (1996): 111–115. 13. The conversion of Tonghak remnants to Christianity is also found in other regions. For example, the Tonghaks in Cholla Province organized the Party for English Learning (Yonghaktang). Yi Yong-ho, “Taehan Cheguk Sigi Yonghaktang Undong ui Songgyok,” Han’guk Minjok Undongsa yon’gu, vol. 5 (Seoul: Chisik Sanopsa, 1991).

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as Christians and disobeyed the government directives for tax collection. The Hwanghae provincial government called these disguised Tonghaks “church exploiters” (kyohoe chokt’akcha) and considered them “phony Christians.” On December 7, 1896, Hwanghae provincial governor Min Yong-ch’ol reported to Foreign Minister Yi Wan-yong about the growing Catholic forces in the province and resulting troubles in tax administration. According to Min, if a village was composed of ten households, half of them were considered Catholic.14 These households “pretended” to preach the gospel and made non-Catholic villagers pay tribute (kongnap) to them. They also forced villagers to buy Catholic texts and collected cash and grain from them as payment for the books. Min called these Catholics former Tonghaks, writing that “The rebels in the previous revolt entered Catholic churches [and] assembled their old crowds” (kudang) in disguise to “plunder” the people as “they had during the rebellion.”15 Min worried that these “Catholic riots” would foster disobedience toward the government among the people. Yet he could not easily punish the Catholics because this might lead to diplomatic trouble. To suppress the rioters and circumvent complaints from Western missionaries at the same time, he tried to portray the suppression as something other than the religious persecution of Christians. Min insisted that the behavior of the “church exploiters” deviated from Christian doctrine, which was “reconcilable” with the rule of the Korean government. Min asked Foreign Minister Yi to persuade the Western diplomats in Korea that these “rebels disguised as Christians” should be punished if they violated government laws.16 Min wrote: The religion of Western Learning (Christianity) is originally good and [holds] fine beliefs for the beautiful and flowering world [hwahwa ji se]. The belief respects cultivation of agricultural production and improvement of lives as well as purification of minds and behavior. The old Christians in Hwanghae Province followed this principle, took care not to offend people, and kept to their proper places—farmers in agriculture and merchants in commerce. In contrast, the new kinds of Christians imitate Tonghak commotion with Tonghak hearts.

14. The original term, kyoin, refers to “believers” and does not differentiate Catholics from Protestants in Korean. Kyoin literally means “Christian believers.” This study adopted the suggestion of Michael Kim, one of the reviewers of this book, who recommended that the term be translated as “Catholics” instead of “Christians” in order to more clearly identify the religious backgrounds of the protestors. 15. Kaksa Tungnok (hereafter KSTN) 25:272. The governor’s opinion reveals the political position of the Min Clan, one of the most prominent aristocratic families in the period, which constituted a reformist segment of the Kwangmu government. The clan was conciliatory to Westerners yet intolerant of the topsy-turvy domestic situation. 16. KSTN, 25:270–271.

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Some Protestants in the province also tried to use the power of Western missionaries and committed illegal acts. On March 28, 1897, the United States Legation in Korea sent a letter to the Korean government citing the report of an American doctor and missionary, known in Korean as Wonduu, about the unlawful behavior of two Christians (yaso kyoin) in P’yongsan, Hwanghae Province. This American missionary was Horace G. Underwood, whom the U.S. Legation had asked to investigate the successive reports of Christian troubles in Hwanghae.17 Underwood accused the two Koreans of pretending to be Christians and of using his name to excuse their illegal behavior.18 They had put on Western clothes, which they pretended to have received from him, in an effort to exploit the authority implied by the clothing and steal from the people. Underwood reported that the two Korean imposters had lodged a false accusation against another Korean in the area and had made the local government arrest him. Although Underwood opposed the arrest, the local government had refused to release the Korean unless Underwood himself explained the case in his own letter. Hence, Underwood reported the arrest to the Legation of the United States in Korea, censuring the two “Christians” for the trouble. The U.S. government at the time prevented American missionaries from meddling in Korean domestic affairs. This order was issued after the “Incident of the Ch’unsaeng Gate” (Ch’unsaengmun sagon) in November 1895, a failed plot of pro-American and pro-Russian officials to kidnap King Kojong and overthrow the 1894 cabinet after the Japanese murder of Queen Min. Horace G. Underwood, Homer B. Hulbert, and Horace N. Allen were involved in this incident. Afterward, the Legation of the United States in Korea ordered Americans never to interfere in Korean domestic politics.19 On the Christian troubles in Hwanghae, the minister of the American Legation in Korea, John M. B. Sill, replied to the Korean Foreign Ministry that he had forbidden the two “Christians” to usurp the authority of Western missionaries and offend the rights of Koreans. Sill also delivered the position of American missionaries—namely, that these “evil persons should be prevented from using the name of Christianity to shield them in the perpetuation of evil deeds.” Sill enclosed the signed letter of Underwood in his own letter to the Korean Foreign Ministry.20 Governor Min regarded

17. Lillias H. Underwood, Fifteen Years among the Top-Knots (Boston: American Tract Society, 1904), translated into Korean by Sin Pong-nyong and Ch’oe Su-gun (Seoul: Chipmundang, 1999), pp. 273–302. 18. KSTN, 25:271–273. 19. Yun Son-ja, “Hanil Happyong Chonhu Hwanghae-do Ch’onju Kyohoe wa Pillem Sinbu,” p. 114; Yi Kwang-nin, “Kaehwagi Kwanso Chibang kwa Kaesin’gyo,” Han’guk Kaehwa Sasang Yon’gu (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1979). 20. KSTN, 25:271–272. Oebu, ed., Mian (Seoul: Foreign Ministry of the Choson Dynasty, 1882– 1905), pp. 212–214.

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this American request as an endorsement to punish Catholics. He ordered local magistrates to produce this letter if Westerners tried to stop the government from punishing Catholics. The central figures of the Catholic riots in Hwanghae were An Chung-gun’s family. An Chung-gun’s father, An T’ae-hun, came from a wealthy family that had connections with Enlightenment School leaders. An T’ae-hun’s father had known Pak Yong-hyo during the 1884 Palace Coup. Pak had selected An T’aehun as one of seventy students to be sent abroad for study. After the failure of the coup, An T’ae-hun’s father had left Haeju and settled in the secluded Ch’onggye district in Sinch’on Prefecture to avoid government persecution. An T’ae-hun was a convert to Catholicism, and his brother, An T’ae-gon, led the “Catholic riots” described in the following paragraphs.21 In April 1897, An T’ae-gon and his associates kidnapped Yu Man-hyon, the director of the local elite association (hyangjang). They tricked Yu with a fake letter from the government, tied him to the back of a horse, and then fled. Yu’s grandson visited An T’ae-gon’s residence and heard that An and his companions had abducted Yu to protest the government arrest of “innocent” Catholics. The local magistrate repudiated An’s argument and called Catholic intervention in tax collection the original cause of this incident. According to the magistrate, An T’ae-gon resided in the Turabang district of Sinch’on. He had been the commander of local expedition troops (p’ogun) against Tonghak rebels and had spread Catholicism in the region after the rebellion. He had imported several bundles of books on Catholicism during the winter of 1896 and had forced people to buy them. Then he began to defy the local tax administration. When the regulations of 1895 reduced the tax rates, An T’ae-gon had ordered his associates, Ch’oe Won-sok and Yu Un-sok, to circulate letters in the areas explaining that they would collect 3 yang per kyol22 in addition to the fixed tax rate defined in the regulations.23 The 1895 regulations refer to the Kabo cabinet’s reformist tax policies. The Kabo government decided to collect taxes in cash and tried to unify various tax items into a single land tax and to establish more reasonable tax rates. In Kyonggi Province, the government decided on the rate of approximately 30 yang per kyol for coastal plain prefectures (yon’gun) and the rate of 25 yang for mountainous prefectures (san’gun). Other than these fixed taxes, the government banned 21. Cho Kwang, “An Chung-gun Yongu ui Hyonhwang kwa Kwaje,” Han’guk Kunhyondaesa Yon’gu 12 (Spring 2000): 187–193. 22. A kyol was the unit of land size in the Choson dynasty. The size of one kyol changed over time. It was equivalent to 10,809 square meters and became 10,000 square meters (1 ha) in 1902. “Kyol,” Minjok Munhwa Taebaekkwa. 23. On the Kabo regulations on land tax, see Yi Yong-ho, Han’guk Kundae Chise Chedo wa Nongmin Undong (Seoul: Seoul National University Press, 2001), pp. 75–118.

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additional tax collection and miscellaneous fees for tax-collecting officials or agents. This resulted in an actual tax reduction for taxpayers. According to the Sinch’on magistrate, An T’ae-gon had imposed additional taxes of 3 yang per kyol, thus violating the 1895 regulations. According to the magistrate’s report, some people had complied with An T’ae-gon’s demands, although the magistrate punished the unit heads of the households (t’ongsu) who had paid money to An. The magistrate therefore arrested An’s money-collecting agents (sujon yusa), Ch’oe and Yu, flogged them, and put them in jail. However, the magistrate wrote that this punishment had not prevented Catholics from helping the arrested agents escape the jail at midnight. He argued that the “disobedient” Catholics had later kidnapped the head of the local elite association and falsely called their deeds “revenge for” government repression of Catholics. The magistrate further detailed his charges against An T’ae-gon’s “crime” in tax collection. An had collected more money from his tenants than the amount of the reduced tax rates instituted by the Kabo regulations. In spring 1894, the tax was 82 yang, 8 chon, 8 p’un in Tangojon currency.24 In winter of the same year, the government reduced the tax to 30 yang per kyol because the new regulations prohibited “additional taxes” above this rate. The magistrate argued that An and his associates had petitioned the Ministry of Finance to collect taxes at a higher rate than what had been stipulated in the regulations. When the Ministry ordered the local government to investigate the situation, the government found that the 1895 spring tax that An had collected still included items removed by the Kabo regulations. Despite this government order, An pressed the people to pay the amount as though it were all for the government.25 From the magistrate’s viewpoint, An T’aeg-on was not authorized to collect money; the problem referred to the Catholics’ violation of tax-collecting regulations rather than to their religious beliefs. He also reported to the government the rumor that Catholics had assembled in the Ch’onggye subdistrict in order to attack the district seat after murdering the abducted director of the local elite association. The magistrate thus accused An T’ae-gon of misappropriating government revenues, organizing a private army, and deceiving Western missionaries about his true intentions. An Chung-gun mentions this case in the memoir he wrote before his execution. He argues that the government suppression of his family and fellow Catho24. The Choson government had minted Tangojon currency since 1883. The nominal value of Tangojon was equivalent to five times more than copper cash, but its real value was only two times more than the latter. 25. KSTN, 25:271–272.

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lics originated from a conflict between his father, An T’ae-hun (An T’ae-gon’s brother), and Min Yong-jun (1852–1935), a leading figure of the Min clan. According to the memoir, An T’ae-hun organized a local expedition troop against the Tonghaks and confiscated a thousand cloth bags of rice from the rebels. Min had invalidated An T’ae-hun’s possession of the grain confiscated from the Tonghak rebels and ordered the An family to return it to the government. In any case, An Chung-gun considered this order unfair, given his family’s subjugation of the Tonghaks.26 An Chung-gun portrays this conflict as an attack by the “reactionary” (sugu) official Min Yong-jun on the An family, an ally of the Enlightenment School. To resolve the “tax” dispute, An T’ae-gon and his Catholic associates sought the protection of Westerners. An T’ae-gon visited the capital with French missionary Nicolas Joseph M. Wilhelm and lobbied the central government to rescind its accusation of embezzlement.27 This apparently had a beneficial result for the Catholics. Foreign Minister Yi Wan-yong sent the local government a reply questioning the credibility of the magistrate’s accusations. Yi ordered the magistrate to provide further evidence of An T’ae-gon’s violation of the land tax law and his organization of private troops.28 The An family and the Catholics also challenged the penal administration of the local government. When the Anak magistrate arrested four Catholics in February 1899, several hundred of An’s followers rescued them with weapons and wounded the constabulary officers. Afterward, An T’ae-gon, Wilhelm, and about a hundred Catholics stormed the government hall of Anak district. They accused the magistrate of failing to train the constables properly and of forcing them to arrest innocent people. An T’ae-gon produced three “suspects” who had been “falsely” labeled as “bandits.” The three suspects, the wounded constables, and a fourth “bandit” who had already been in custody were all brought into the hall of the district government and made to face one another for cross-examination. The arrested man, Yi Chun-ch’il, correctly identified the three suspects by name and asked them, “Didn’t we commit the crime together?” The faces of the three turned pale, and they did not say a word, according to the magistrate’s report. Yi Chun-ch’il confirmed that he had confessed his crime without being flogged. An T’ae-gon immediately took off Yi’s clothes and hat and inspected his body. As there was no trace of physical punishment, An opened the gate of the district hall and left the building.

26. An Chung-gun, An Chung-gun Uisa Chasojon, pp. 32–35; Yun Son-ja, “Hanil Happyong Chonhu Hwanghaedo Ch’onju Kyohoe wa Pillem Sinbu,” p. 113 27. KSTN, 25:273–276. 28. Ibid., 25:278.

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Souther

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An T’ae-gon later returned to the hall and concluded, “Although the three suspects were not able to prove their innocence, they could not be called ‘bandits’ unless the victims of the bandits confirmed their crimes through a face-toface examination.” Then he left the government hall with his fellow Catholics. The Anak magistrate described this case in detail to explain how the Catholics’ claims were “unjustifiable.” Yet the episode also reveals that the Catholics questioned whether the government had clear evidence of the crimes for which it arrested the people and whether the arrested were tortured. They collectively forced the government to release suspects if the government could not prove their crimes. To the magistrate, this Catholic involvement in the penal administration was offensive to national laws.29 This confrontation continued in other Catholic disturbances in the province.30 In December 1902, Han Ch’i-sun in Sinch’on, who had a connection with 29. Ibid., 25:338–339. 30. Ibid., 25:282–283. These Cathlic disturbances are called haeso kyoan in Korean history. Ch’oe Sok-u, “Haeso Kyoan ui Yon’gu,” Han’guk Kyohoesa ui T’amgu, vol. 2 (Seoul: Han’guk Kyohoesa Yon’guso, 1991).

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the Hwangsong sinmun according to the minister of the French Legation, accused two Catholics, Kim Sun-myong and Kim Pyong-ho, of abusing the people. Han argued that the Catholics antagonized their fellow Koreans and violated the laws of the Korean government. According to Han, a contagious disease had killed the cow of a resident named Yi, in Han’s neighborhood. Later, Yi’s neighbor’s cow had died of the same disease. The leader of the Catholics and others in the area had blamed Yi for having brought a sick cow into the “pure land” of their village. They beat Yi to coerce him into paying for his neighbor’s dead cow. They also forced Yi to pay 100 yang as the price of a gold ornamental hairpin (kumjam) that one of their female followers claimed to have lost in this commotion. Han also insisted that the Catholics in Sinch’on made people work for the construction of the church in August 1902. If people disobeyed, the followers brought them to the church and privately punished them. When the local government sent constabulary officers to arrest the Catholics, the officers were attacked and expelled. The local magistrate charged a Catholic priest with having sent his followers to assault the constabulary officers. In another episode, Catholics battered local officials and the directors of local elite associations in protest of tax collection. This case differed from the case of An T’ae-gon and his company, who may have collected money for religious purposes. In January 1903, the Changyon magistrate reported that Catholics in Sinch’on had illegally obstructed the constables and interrupted the government’s tax collection. When the magistrate arrested the Catholics, tens of their fellows attacked the constables and freed the detainees. The Catholics also demanded that the magistrate pay them 30,000 yang as reimbursement for money expended on legal suits for what they considered falsely imposed taxes. The magistrate refused this demand and attached to his report to the central government a petition by Kim Tong-nyong, whose father, the former director of the local elite association in the district, had been seriously injured in a Catholic assault in 1902. At that time, the bureaus of the local government had requested that Kim’s father, as director of the local elite association, “cover various travel expenses” (chong yobi). Kim’s father had deliberated with the ward chiefs (pangjang) and village leaders (tumin) on how to make up the shortfall. They had then distributed the burden over the households in the district and collected the money. A Catholic, Cho Pyong-gil, had filed a suit in the capital and obtained a verdict that the local government should return the money to the households. Subsequently, in January 1903, Catholics had rushed into Kim’s father’s house and accused him of having stolen the wealth of his people. The leader of the Catholic organization had ordered his followers to capture Kim’s father, who had consequently been beaten by long clubs. Kim Tong-nyong maintained that the

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Catholics had hit his father so severely that they injured his head and left his body bleeding. In his appeal, Kim Tong-nyong stated that this vigilante justice by the Catholics seriously violated national law. Similar conflicts between Catholics and government elites occurred in other Korean provinces during this period, and on Cheju Island the conflict accelerated into a full-scale “rebellion” against the Catholics and French missionaries. On the island, Catholic forces had grown large enough to infringe on the interests of the local elites. Infuriated with this Catholic involvement in tax administration, the officials of local elite associations (hyangim) and other residents organized a rebellion. The rebels killed 300 Catholics but released two French missionaries when the French government dispatched gunboats to the Cheju coast and negotiated with the Korean government to rescue the missionaries.31 Tellingly, Hwanghae provincial governor Min Yong-ch’ol identified the Catholic rioters as Tonghaks. The two groups did resemble each other in their distrust of government authority, discontent over tax administration, and reliance on organizational power for resolving grievances. The French Legation in Korea supported the viewpoint of French missionaries and intervened to prohibit the Korean government from repressing Catholics.32 In brief, the Catholic protestors were not xenophobic but preoccupied with their conflicts with the Korean government.

The Anti-Western Protests: Miners in P’yngan Province In contrast to the Catholics in Hwanghae, some miners and other laborers in P’yongan waged multiple anti-Western protests. The Korean monarch Kojong had granted James R. Morse, an American businessman, a gold mine concession at Unsan in P’yongan Province in July 1895.33 This was the first Korean mining concession to a foreign country. The concession triggered imperialist competition over similar privileges in the mining industry.34 The Korean government had originally tried to limit the inland settlement of foreigners. It enforced articles of international treaties to ban foreigners from buying land and houses or 31. Pak Ch’an-sik, “Hanmal Cheju chiyok ui Ch’onju kyohoe wa ‘Cheju Kyoan,’ ” Han’guk Kunhyondaesa yon’gu, vol. 4 (Seoul: Han’guk Kunhyondaesa Yon’guhoe, 1996). 32. KSTN, 25:370–371. The French Legation was silent about Catholic crimes yet demanded that the constabulary officer known as Pak Chong-mo be punished for his persecution of Christians. 33. Yu Sung-u, Choson Sidae Kwangopsa yon’gu (Seoul: Korea University Press, 1993), p. 371. 34. Yi Pae-yong, “Kuhanmal Miguk ui Unsan Kumgwang Ch’aegulgwon Hoektuk e Taehayo,” PhD diss., Ehwa University, 1971, pp. 93–94.

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from opening stores outside treaty ports. Local officials regularly investigated and compiled a list of illegal foreign purchases of land and houses beyond 10 li (2.5 miles) from the treaty ports.35 However, there was a lapse in the enforcement of this government proscription as Westerners expanded their business in the province and demanded that the central government force local people into assisting foreign companies. Westerners increasingly frequented the province as their economic involvement there became active. Horace N. Allen, who at the time was consul-general of the United States, asked the Korean foreign minister, Yi Wan-yong, to open special lodges for American passengers because many Americans had difficulty finding food and accommodations on their way to P’yongyang and other inland locations.36 Although Westerners acquired privileges through direct or secret bargaining with the central government, they faced adverse local reactions from those who had previously engaged in mining or who had other economic privileges in the province. Yi Wan-yong instructed local officials to arrest those who offended foreigners, in order to avoid diplomatic incidents.37 Nevertheless, there were recurrent attacks on foreign businessmen and vendors in the province. The American gold mine company in Unsan was one of the main sites that provoked such anti-Western protests. When the American businessman Leigh S. J. Hunt arrived at Unsan and opened a mine in July 1896,38 Koreans in the company’s neighborhood lodged a complaint to the Unsan magistrate about their losses. The petitioners argued that the company had cut down tens of thousands of privately owned pine trees and never compensated the owners. Furthermore, Korean brokers in charge of employing miners for the company had not paid local merchants for the food and goods that miners had consumed. The brokers were accused of counting on the power of the foreigners and of using violence against local merchants to avoid paying their outstanding bills. Local magistrates in the province also stuck to the original directive of the Korean government to limit the inland settlement of foreigners and refused to cooperate with the company. According to this directive, all construction by the company was illegal since foreigners could not buy land or build warehouses in Unsan, which was located outside the specified circumference from the treaty 35. KSTN, 36:26. 36. Ibid., 36:28. 37. Ibid., 36:26. 38. Hunt was a businessman from Seattle who had business relations with Allen and bought the right to the Unsan gold mine from James R. Morse, who had originally received the concession there. Yi Pae-yong, “Kuhanmal Miguk ui Unsan Kumgwan Ch’aegulgwon Hoektuk e taehayo,” pp. 107– 117.

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ports. The Unsan magistrate ordered the American company to pay 1 yang per tree and to forbid brokers to cause a public nuisance. The company argued that local residents had cut down and sold most of the trees under dispute. It also insisted that it was the Korean local government that should handle the problems caused by the brokers.39 This shirking of responsibility was not in the company’s best interests, however, because it pushed the local government into punishing the company for illegal lumbering, which was necessary for gold mining. The Unsan magistrate reported to the central government that he would expel the troublesome brokers and order those who had illegally felled the trees to compensate those who owned the timber. The company later complained to the central government that the provincial governor had dispatched police officials who threatened to shoot foreigners who illegally cut down trees. The company also grumbled that the governor had refused to meet with its supervisor. The Korean foreign minister notified the provincial governor that the company had signed contracts with the Bureau of the Royal Household and had permission from the Ministry of Agriculture to cut trees. He then ordered the governor to let the company continue its lumbering operations.40 Thus the mining company relied on the involvement of the central government to resolve protests from local officials and residents in the province.41 When the company tried to open a road from Pakch’on to Unsan to move mining machines and other equipment, it faced wage disputes from Korean laborers. The company criticized the Pakchon magistrate for being obstinate and even hostile because he was neutral to the claims of the laborers. The company suggested in its report to the Korean government that the magistrate himself had promoted the wage disputes, ordering the Koreans not to accept the work unless the company paid them 200 mun (2 yang) per day. The company insisted that it had paid the laborers 175 mun per day although it could have hired Chinese “coolies” for 150 mun per day. The acting foreign minister, Yu Ki-hwan, severely reprimanded the provincial governor with respect to this accusation. Exasperated, the Pakch’on magistrate defended himself and explained the situation differently. According to him, the Americans had arrived at Pakch’on in March 1898 and had tried to transport machines by river, as road transportation was inconvenient. The company had asked the magistrate to send workers to repair the road, and he had mobilized laborers to do so. The company had paid no money in the

39. KSTN, 36:31–32. 40. Ibid., 36:35. 41. Ibid., 36:39, 42–43, and 47.

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beginning. After the workers had completed the construction, the company said that if the magistrate sent workers again, it would hire them immediately. Hence, the magistrate ordered people to respond to the company’s offer. Since the local government was not in charge of wage increases, the magistrate argued, it was the workers who had demanded that the company pay 2 yang a day. Moreover, he argued that it was not true that the company could hire Chinese laborers at lower wages. The Chinese at the port were unwilling to accept the company’s offer because most of them were engaging in trade and commerce. The magistrate criticized the company for falsely accusing him when it was the company that had caused the conflict. He concluded that the company had neither paid fair wages to the Korean workers nor properly addressed their protests.42 The Unsan gold mine not only provoked economic conflicts but also engendered social anxiety in the province. The judge of the provincial court in Northern P’yongan (p’yonganbuk-to chaep’anso p’ansa), Cho Min-hui, sent a letter to the foreign minister stating that three Americans from the Unsan mining company had mistaken a Korean peasant for a gold thief and shot him to death on May 28, 1899. The judge wrote that even if it was valid to punish the “thief,” it was unlawful to shoot and kill someone for such a crime. The Korean government could neither arrest the Americans nor investigate their crimes due to the extraterritoriality clause in their “unequal treaty,” though the Korean government did produce meticulous reports of this incident according to the traditional investigation process for murder cases.43 These reports addressed the shock, fear, and anger that villagers felt toward the Americans responsible for the shooting. The dead peasant, Kim Pong-mun from Unsan, and two other villagers had been plowing the fields adjacent to a village house when they heard loud roars (huho ji song) from the entrance to the village.44 Frightened, they looked back and saw three Americans approaching. Kim was extremely scared by the Americans, who were dressed in black clothes (hugui) and firing their guns at will (nanbang). He tried to run away, but the three Americans chased him. Kim was found dead soon afterward, a bullet in his chest. In the government reports, the villagers repeatedly stated how afraid they had been when they saw the Americans dressed in black and behaving wildly. Female witnesses in the village testified that they could not identify exactly who shot Kim to death. They had hidden in their kitchens and been afraid to come out of their houses after they had seen the Americans in their black clothes. All the

42. Ibid., 36:44–45. 43. Ibid., 36:67–83. 44. Ibid., 36:78.

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witnesses agreed it was not guilt but fear that made Kim run away. They were enraged that he had been killed for no reason while simply working in his neighbor’s field. Considering the loud roars and gunshots, the Americans may have been drunk when they entered the village. They reportedly returned to the village at midnight and took a bundle of reeds from a village house. They covered the dead peasant with reeds and a pine wood plank and moved the body to the middle of a villager’s field. The local government reported the murder to the company and asked it to supply the names of the Americans. The company replied that the gunshots had been fired in response to stolen gold and did not give the local government any further information.45 The British mine in Unsan was another site of conflict in the province. According to the Unsan magistrate’s report to the governor of Southern P’yongan Province, a British citizen known in Korean as Sol P’il-lim, three other Englishmen, and fifty Japanese employees had occupied the Unsan mine on February 7, 1900. They started mining without providing the magistrate with a government directive. The magistrate regarded this as a violation of the international treaty and dispatched his police officers to the mine. He tried to prohibit the British from taking over the mine and told the Korean miners to continue working there. According to the report by the dispatched police, the British raised the Union Jack and inspected those who entered the mine. They also displayed small flags on two guard posts located on high mountain roads. They intimidated people by carry ing swords and pistols. At night, they hung lamps and checked the passersby. The police officer reported that those who came to the mine were three Westerners, one black person (hugin), fifty-eight Japanese and their Japanese supervisor, and one Chinese person. In addition, there were about a hundred Korean employees in the mine. Faced with the local magistrate’s ban on the mine, the British protested that they had started mining in Unsan because, in July 1899, the Korean government had allowed them to select one mine in addition to those in P’yongyang, Chaeryong, Sinch’on, Hamhung, Kilch’on, Tanch’on, and Suan.46 The British company soon encountered the riots of Korean miners who had previously developed the mine there. Several hundred miners from Yongbyon and three or four hundred from Songch’on and Sunan came together and camped on the mountains near the British mine. The British put up a notice to explain that the Korean emperor had given them the mine. They warned that the

45. Ibid., 36:81. 46. Ibid., 36:105–106.

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Japanese would protect the company’s employees and punish those who violated them. They wrote in Korean vernacular: The miners who are making a commotion at the Rohobang gold mine should go back. You should not injure or capture those who are involved with our company. The Japanese police officers that our company employs will protect those who are related to our company. Since the people living in this village are friendly to our company, they are our people. If there are any problems, they should be reported to Master Sol our company clerk.47 This notice did not prevent several hundred miners from joining the encamped rioters on February 19, 1900, and occupying the east valley of the Yonghwa, a district of the mine. The Japanese employees in the company carried its equipment to the western valley of the subdistrict. The battle line between the miners and the company employees extended for 3 li (about 1.2 km). The confrontation escalated when the company’s Japanese interpreter, together with several temporary laborers (kogong), came to Sunch’on on market day, February 21, where rioting miners confiscated his possessions and confined him in a private house. The British heard of this and dispatched twenty Japanese and several laborers to the market. They carried weapons and fired many shots in succession. The miners dispersed but reconvened the next day, destroying the houses of two Korean foremen (sipchang) employed by the company. The British and twenty Japanese came to the town again, captured one miner, struck him on the head, and battered him until he was unconscious. They also injured another miner with their swords. This bloody showdown further incited the miners and led other miners from nearby to gather in town. The local magistrate, gravely concerned that the miners would turn into rebels and attack townspeople, dispatched a hundred soldiers from the local defense army to end the riots.48 These miners’ protests coincided with repeated assaults on Westerners in mining districts. A British technician in the Unsan gold mine was beaten to death on August 19, 1900, after he went to a tavern to stop miners from drinking.49 An unidentified man in Anju shot at a Western-style house where an American lived.50 Two hundred Koreans attacked Americans and their clerks in

47. 48. 49. 50.

Ibid., 36:106–107. Ibid., 36:108–109, 112–113. Ibid., 36:127. Ibid., 36:100–101.

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the Unsan gold mine in revenge for a sexual assault on a Korean woman.51 And American diplomats complained in December 1903 that the residents of the Unsan area had thrown stones at foreigners.52 When the Russians expanded their influence in the province, they became another source of conflict. Russians began to buy real estate at Yongamp’o Port in Yongch’on in 1903. The Korean government recorded that the Russian actions violated their treaty obligations and offended local customs.53 The worst thing the Russians did was destroy local ancestral graves during their construction projects in Yongch’on. The resentment of the residents was fierce. Local village heads in Yongch’on district submitted a petition containing the signatures of the village residents. The subdistrict head (chonwi), An Ch’i-gyom, complained that the Russians had dug tunnels into the mountain and had removed the soil by train. Several tombs on the mountain had caved in because of these tunnels. The government investigator reported that “cries of the dead echoed along the stream and the wrath of the living filled the grounds.”54 When the Korean government gathered the village leaders to find out how many graves in Yongamp’o had been damaged, it found that bones of the dead were exposed in 362 out of 462 graves in the area. The government compiled a list of the victims and offered partial compensation for reburial expenses.55

The Changing East Asian Order and the Emergence of Pan-Asianism Anti-Western protests in P’yongan do not necessarily signify that the people in the province were backward-looking or more nationalist than Koreans in other regions. Adjoining China and Manchuria across the Yalu River,56 the geographical location of P’yongan Province had exposed residents to new ideas and merchandise from China for many years. The province became the dynasty’s new social frontier in the late nineteenth century, concomitant with the lifting of com51. Yi Pae-yong, “Kuhanmal Miguk ui Unsan Kumgwang Ch’aegulgwon Hoektuk e taehayo,” pp. 182–183. 52. KSTN, 36:229. 53. Ibid., 36:182. For example, in 1903, Russians cut down trees in the forests of the Paekma Mountain Wall (Paekma Sansong), which were beyond the areas where they had acquired a logging concession. The Korean government had protected the trees in this forest, which were hundreds of years old, from being cut down for a long time. 54. Ibid., 36:203. 55. Ibid., 36:218, 221. 56. The district magistrate of Uiju was in charge of military and diplomatic interactions with China during the Choson period because the district was located on the closest road to China.

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Chasong Huch’ang

CHINA

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mercial restrictions and demographic changes in Manchuria. Two occurrences during this period are indicative of this transition: the travel of wealthy men from Uiju to Australia and the lukewarm response to Yu In-sok’s regiment, one of the most famous volunteer Righteous Armies that formed after the Japanese assassination of Queen Min in 1895. In April 1901, the Japanese consul in Seoul informed the Korean government of the deaths of three Korean travelers from Uiju in P’yongan Province. In December 1900, the travelers had boarded the Japanese steamboat Hachimanmaru,

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bound for Australia. They had died of disease in Manila. The Japanese captain had held a funeral for them and sent their money and personal effects to Korea via the Japanese Consulate in Manila. These travelers were Kim Sang-gyong, who was forty years old; Yu Chae-p’ung, who was twenty-six; and Kim Songp’al, who was thirty-six. Kim Song-p’al left behind 80 pounds in British gold, equivalent to 750 yen 91 sen in Japanese gold at the time. Their other possessions included leather shoes, clothes, ginseng products, a Western umbrella, and a silver watch.57 These travelers may have been merchants, since they carried ginseng and their destination was not a place usually associated with “studies of civilization,” such as Japan or one of the Western European countries. Their travels indicate that Uiju was not a mere border town on Korea’s periphery but tapped into the circuit of travelers across the Pacific Ocean via the modern Japanese transportation system. A picture taken during this period shows that Uiju was full of tiled-roof houses and comparable to the prosperous parts of contemporaneous Seoul.58 Likewise, Confucian conservatism hardly dominated the ideological climate of P’yongan at this time. Yu In-sok’s “Righteous Army” met with a tepid local response when it tried to set up bases in the province.59 Northerners were known for their martial talent and bravery, and there was a base in the province for the Hwaso School, an orthodox Confucian academy that some leaders of Yu’s regiment had attended. Yet one leader of the Yu In-sok regiment wrote of his frustration over the lack of a favorable response from the province. He complained that P’yongan residents only sought official positions after the “enlightenment party” (kaehwadang) abolished discrimination against northerners in the recruitment of state officials during the Kabo reform.60 The case of Yi Ch’i-yong, another leader of the Yu In-sok regiment, is also illuminating.61 Yi attempted to establish a regional base in the area beyond the Yalu River for the Yu In-sok regiment in 1897. He advocated that the people rise for the purpose of protecting their country and taking revenge for Queen Min. According to Kim Chae-song, Yi’s personal servant (sahwan), for a number of years Yi even invoked King Kojong’s

57. KSTN, 36:144, 146–147. 58. Yi Kyu-hon et al., eds., Sajin uro Ponun Kundae Han’guk: Sanha wa P’ungmul, vol. 2 (Seoul: Somundang, 1986), pp. 78–79. 59. Sin Sung-kwon, “Roil ui hanbando punhal hoekch’aek,” Kuksa P’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, ed., Han’guksa, vol. 41 (Seoul: Kuksa P’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1991), pp. 95–96. After the assassination of Queen Min, Yu organized the Righteous Armies under the slogan of “revenge for the mother of our country” and “opposing the ordinance prohibiting topknots.” The Righteous Armies fanned out through the country, killing the “pro-Japanese” provincial governors or local magistrates who supported the Kim Hongjip cabinet. 60. Ku Wan-hui, Hanmail ui Chech’on Uibyong; Hojwa Uijin Yon’gu (Seoul: Chipmundang, 1997), pp. 207–219. 61. KSTN, 36:36; Ku Wan-hui, Hanmail ui Chech’on Uibyong, p. 564.

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order to persuade residents of the area to fight for the cause. But some residents of his base, accusing Yi of “having plundered” the people, assassinated him and delivered his head to the local magistrate of the Korean government.62 This dire fate suggests an ideological trend away from Confucian conservatism and toward local support of the Kabo cabinet in the province. As discussed earlier, popular response to Western ascendance in the postKabo period ranged from cooperation to hostility. Given the region’s fluid atmosphere, a considerable amount of anti-Western sentiment may have been channeled into Pan-Asianism. The elite reformers of the Enlightenment School had earlier contacts with the Japanese Pan-Asianists in the 1880s and promoted an East Asian alliance or federation to survive the Western threats.63 In their discourse of “civilization and enlightenment,” the Korean elite reformers criticized Eastern civilization and praised the West as a model for reforming Korea and China, but still maintained the idea of Eastern cooperation.64 This Korean discourse on Eastern solidarity demanded Korea’s independence from China’s suzerainty as well as equality and cooperation among the three East Asian countries. After the Sino-Japanese War, the discourse of Korean reformers developed a stronger pro-Japanese tone, portraying Japanese expansion in Korea or in Asia as the way to build a regional peace. The Independent harshly denounced China and Eastern civilization and expressed an affinity with the Japanese Pan-Asianist discourse. In the meantime, Western countries competed for economic concessions but showed little interest in mollifying Korean feelings. France found indigenous collaborators in Catholic converts, yet in deference to Russia, its ally, was not seriously interested in dominating Korea. Although Russia increased its control over the Korean court after Kojong’s flight to the Russian Legation in 1896, it did not garner support among Koreans for Russian expansion. Japan, however, carefully monitored the Korean response to the changing regional order in East Asia, working to shape that response in favor of Japan’s own ambitions. This Japanese effort may well have been critical in spreading Pan-Asianist sentiments in Korea. The local circumstances in P’yongan were also congruent with the PanAsianist critique of China’s leadership. As China became unable to control the situation in its northeastern regions, the people in P’yongan Province experienced the detrimental effects of China’s collapse. Illegal Chinese traders and Chinese bandit raids frequently irritated the province. The magistrate of Samhwa in Southern P’yongan Province complained that Chinese commercial craft 62. KSTN, 36:22–25. 63. See Tarui Tokichi, Daito Gapporon (repr., Tokyo: Choryo Shorin, 1975). 64. Chong Mun-sang, “19 segi mal 20 segi ch’o ‘Kaehwa Chisigin’ui Tongasia Chiyok Yondaeron,” Asea Munhwa Yon’gu 8 (February 2004): 41–60.

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swarmed the coastal areas of the region. He wrote in April 1896 that twenty to thirty Chinese boats a day sailed with favorable winds to inland areas, such as Chungnamp’o Port, and laid anchor for trade.65 According to his report, these merchants, most of whom lived in the Dengzhou area of China, came to exchange Western cotton textiles or iron goods for Korean soybeans or rice. Many did not possess passports, yet they traveled into the interior, close to P’yongyang, and to various coastal districts in Hwanghae Province. The Chinese merchants were able to expand their commercial activities because the agreement on commerce signed in 1882 guaranteed them trading privileges in Korea. The local magistrate did not have any legal right to limit the activities of Chinese merchants until the Korean government signed a new Korean-Chinese Agreement on Commerce and Trade (Han-ch’ong t’ongsang choyak) in 1899.66 Chinese timber smuggling was also serious in the province. The Korean prime minister Pak Che-sun (1858–1916) worried that Chinese loggers had evaded taxes and damaged the finances of the Korean government. He sent instructions to the provincial governor on how to constrain the timber smugglers. If Korean officials found illegal timber piled in the mountains or along the river, they were to estimate its market price and levy penalties to compensate for the revenue lost by the Korean government. To fight illegal lumbering, the Korean government also permitted local officials to hire gunmen (p’osu). If local officials accepted bribes from Chinese merchants in return for allowing illegal lumbering, then local magistrates could imprison the corrupt officials.67 However, these regulations did not stop the tens if not hundreds of Chinese “timber bandits” (mokpi) from continuing their raids in the border areas along the Yalu River. Explosive Chinese migration in Manchuria exacerbated this banditry.68 After the Qing government removed its restrictions on residence in the late nineteenth century, migration from North China to Manchuria increased. This flow accelerated when the development of the Chinese Eastern and South Manchuria Railway provided steam-powered transportation and job opportunities. In the 1890s, an average of 7,900 passengers per year traveled by steamer from the Shandong port of Yantai to Vladivostok. This increased to more than 22,000 per year between 1900 and 1916 and peaked at nearly 70,000 in 1907. The 65. KSTN, 36:2. 66. Ibid., 36:28. Kwon Sok-pong, “Ch’ongil Chonjaeng ihu ui hanch’ong kwan’gye ui yon’gu (1894–1899),” in Ch’ongil Chonjaeng ul chonhuhan Han’guk kwa yolgang (Seoul: Chongsinmunhwa Yon’guwon, 1984), quoted in Han’guksa, vol. 42 (Seoul: Kuksa P’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1991), p. 37; Kirk Larsen, “From Suzerainty to Commerce: Sino-Korean Economic and Business Relations during the Open Port Period (1876–1910),” PhD diss., Harvard University, 2000, pp. 106, 132–133. 67. KSTN, 36:57. 68. Thomas R. Gottschang and Diana Lary, Swallows and Settlers: The Great Migration from North China to Manchuria (Ann Arbor: Center for Chinese Studies, University of Michigan, 2000), pp. 2–3, 36–37, 64.

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Maritime Customs of the Chinese government recorded that in 1893, over 44,000 Chinese passengers left North China ports for Manchuria; seven years later, in 1900, the number exceeded 120,000. As railways were built and population centers developed, the demand for wood increased in Manchuria, and bandits crossed Korea’s northern border to a region rich in forests.69 Table 1 shows that the border areas of P’yongan Province were vulnerable to numerous incidents of Chinese robbery, murder, or bandit raids. In August and September 1900, the Boxer rebels fled Beijing and arrived in the area across the Yalu River. The rebels massacred several Korean Christians and displayed their corpses on the riverbank. The Korean government reported that the rebels mistook the Korean police in black Western-style uniforms for Western or Japanese troops and feared the police would attack the rebel base.70 The Independent was critical of these Chinese disturbances, and in reports on P’yongan Province, it conveyed the anti-Qing perception of its residents. For instance, in March 1897, the newspaper printed letters from residents of P’yongyang and its vicinity, advocating additional treaty ports in Chinamp’o and Mok’po and the setting up of customs offices to collect taxes from foreign merchants. The Independent article noted that in P’yongan Province, illegal Chinese merchants (ch’ong chamsang) were importing merchandise without paying tax, while in the southern provinces, the Japanese evaded such taxes.71 The Independent played a role in disseminating anti-Qing discourse in Korea. Increasingly affected by the Japanese journals and newspapers,72 the Independent strengthened its pro-Japanese tone and influenced readers in P’yongan Province. The newspaper had local bureaus of distribution in P’yongyang, whereas its other bureaus were in commercial or transportation centers like Chemulp’o, Wonsan, Pusan, P’aju, Songdo, Suwon, and Kanghwa.73 Another Independent article in September 1897 reported on the anti-Qing and pro-Japanese sentiments of some P’yongyang Christians. These Christians (kyou), some three hundred strong, held a ceremony on King Kojong’s birthday near the Taedong River in P’yongyang. The article referred to the “patriotic” nature of this ceremony, in which the Christians had raised the Korean flag and started the ceremony with a speech celebrating the independence of Korea. The

69. Yi Hungu, Manju wa Chosonin (P’yongyang: Sungsil Chonmun hakkyo Kyongjehak Yon’gusil, 1932), pp. 45–55. 70. KSTN, 36:57. 71. ID, May 13, 1897. 72. Kang Tong-guk, “Choson ul tullossan Ro Il ui Kakch’uk kwa Chosonin ui Kukche Chongch’i Insik: ‘Kongaron’ kwa ‘Injong Chungsim ui Kukche Chongch’iron’ ui Sasang Yonswae,” Ilbon Yon’gu Nonch’ong (Seoul: Hyondae Ilbon Hakhoe, 2004), pp. 163–197. 73. ID, April 11, 1896. The price of the Independent was 1 won for a one-year subscription, 12 chon for a month, and 1 p’un in copper coin for a single copy.

TABLE 1.

Records on Chinese bandits in P’ypngan Province, 1896–1903

YEAR

REPORT DATE

1896

No record

1897

No record

1898

Feb. 11 Aug. 13 June 9

1899

NUMBER OF INCIDENTS

ISSUE

Areas along the Yalu River

400

Banditry

Ypypn County (mypn)

Several dozen

Banditry

Huch’ang District

Dozens or

Timber banditry

PLACE

hundreds June 21

Riverside or coastal areas

July 14

(mokpi)

16 or 17

Thievery

Yongch’pn

Hundreds

Illegal coal mining

Aug. 31 (Sept. 7)*

Ch’angju County

16 or 17

Armed robbery

Sept. 9 (Oct. 10)

Yongch’pn

Hundreds

Illegal coal mining

of Northern P’ypngan (ch’aet’an)

1900

July 3

Munok County, Kanggye

60–70

Robbery and timber

July 21

Chaspng District

300–400

Timber banditry

Aug. 15

Munok, Kanggye

Arrested Chinese

Timber banditry

robbers Aug. 27 (Sept. 17)

Ch’osan District Across

Several dozen

Boxer rebels**

the Yalu River Dec. 13 1901

1902

Huch’ang District

16

Apr. 1

Chaspng, Huch’ang

300

Apr. 26

Ch’plsan

Several dozen

Timber banditry

May 28

Ch’angspng

Robbery and timber

June 29

Along the border area

Banditry

Apr. 19 (Apr. 26)

Along the border

Assaults on Korean

July 18

Ch’osan

Armed robbery

vagrants About 10

Timber robbery

(Japanese and Chinese porters) Oct. 5 (Oct. 10)

Huch’ang

Nov. 5

Chaspng

About 10

Korean official taken hostage by bandit

1903

Apr. 27 (May 5)

Robbery With Russians

Illegal lumbering

Oct. 19

Samsu District

Timber

Oct. 31 (Nov. 14)

Huch’ang District

Kidnapping

Nov. 15

Yongch’pn

Murder

Source: KSTN, 36:1–232. *Dates in parentheses refer to other reports on the same assault case. **Boxer rebels fleeing from persecution in Beijing reached an area near the Yalu River.

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participants then all stood up and sang “a hymn of independence” (tongnipka). The Independent recorded the leader Yi Yong-on’s speech at the ceremony as follows: Qing China has subordinated our country and has treated us as its servants. But Korea is now independent. All the Korean people should make up their minds for independence, help the Great Majesty, and change our country to be civilized and enlightened like those of the West. Some people say that it is difficult to enlighten our country. These are stupid words. Japan, which was weak and in decline thirty years ago, is now the most enlightened country in the East. Japan is wealthy, and its military is strong. Its people are living a happy and peaceful life. Japan could achieve this because it educated the talented.74 The denunciation of the Qing and praise of Japan in this article reflected the Independence Club’s own position. An Independent editorial in November 1897 summarized Korea’s history since the late nineteenth century and defended the elite reformers’ pro-Japanese orientation. The Independent published this editorial on the occasion of the formal funeral of the assassinated Korean empress Min, on November 22, 1897, two years after the tragedy. The Independent ascribed the delay of the funeral to a series of incidents in the country, glossing over Kojong’s flight to the Russian Legation after the assassination. Beginning with a short biography of the empress, the November 22 editorial defended the choices of Enlightenment School leaders, whom conservative literati had severely criticized as “pro-Japanese traitors” after the assassination. Insisting that the treaties that opened Korea were on the right track, it argued that the Korean battles against the gunboats of the United States in 1866 and 1871 occurred “mistakenly” because Koreans “failed to understand” that the American boats were “simply looking around Korea.”75 The United States, the editorial maintained, did not retaliate because it considered Koreans “ignorant” and “uninformed” about the outside world. The editorial then portrayed the 1882 mutiny as an incident that provoked the entrance of Qing troops into Korea. Since then, “for the first time in our country’s [that is, the Choson dynasty’s] five hundred years,” China had stationed military bases (pyongch’am) in Korea and dishonored “Korea’s autonomy that had been preserved for so long.” The editorial directly ascribed this Chinese occupation to the 1884 coup in which infuriated youthful leaders tried to over74. ID, September 2, 1897. 75. On the significance of this war in U.S. foreign relations, see Gordon Chang, “Whose ‘Barbarism’? Whose ‘Treachery’? Race and Civilization in the Unknown United States–Korea War of 1871,” Journal of American History 89, no. 4 (March 2003).

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throw the Qing in haste but were killed or forced to flee. The editorial asserted that China had strangled Korea’s autonomy before the outbreak of the first SinoJapanese War. It also depicted Japan’s involvement in the war as “defensive” because China sent its troops to subdue the 1894 Tonghak Rebellion without notifying Japan, thereby violating the China-Japan Treaty signed in 1885. The Independent editorial claimed that “Japan and Korea made an alliance to expel Qing China” and that Japan’s peace treaty with China, in its first clause, secured Korea’s independence. The editorial ended by mourning the tragedy of the Korean empress but never mentioned the Japanese violence that led to her murder.76 This historical narrative echoed Japan’s own interpretation of the SinoJapanese War and must have significantly shaped its readers’ perception of events since the opening of Korea. Independent readers in P’yongan Province were politically active, sending letters to the newspaper that criticized corrupt officials or demanded radical reform of the government.77 When the Independence Club organized its “common assembly of the people” (manmin kongdonghoe) in Seoul and requested the expulsion of foreign advisors from the Korean government, P’yongyang Christians organized an assembly in solidarity with the movement in the capital.78 These actions presumably formed the ground from which P’yongyang established one of the first three Independence Club branches, alongside Kongju, Ch’ungch’ong Province, and Taegu, Kyongsang Province. The Independence Club in Seoul sent five hundred copies of the club regulations to P’yongyang in September 1898.79 According to the Independent in October 1898, up to that date the club had authorized eight branches, four of which (in Kanggye, P’yongyang, Sonch’on, and Uiju) were located in P’yongan Province. If Pukch’ong in Hamgyong Province was included, five branches were in the northern region.80 The P’yongyang branch sent its delegate (ch’ongdae) to the Independence Club in Seoul, asking that they renovate the old public hall (konghae) in P’yongyang that had been used for receiving Qing emissaries. The P’yongyang branch intended to transform the hall into the club office, just as the Independence Club in Seoul had destroyed the gate for greeting Qing emissaries and on its ruins erected the Gate of Independence.81 Although the Independence Club

76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81.

ID, November 20, 1897. ID, March 12, 1898. ID, April 2, 1898. ID, September 23, 1898. ID, October 12, 1898. The other four were in Pukchong, Mokp’o, Kongju, and Taegu. ID, September 13, 1898.

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asked the Ministry of Finance to permit this P’yongyang request, the Independent reported, Finance Minister Min Yong-gi did not approve it.82 While the pro-Japanese tone of the Independent influenced its readers, Japan moved quietly yet steadily into the province. The Japanese acting consul, Shinjo Junketsu, opened an office in the Yungdok district (pu), inside the Taedong Gate in P’yongyang, in August 1899.83 The ToA Dobunkai (East Asia Common Culture Society) also extended its reach to the province. This Japanese association, founded by Prince Konoe Atsumaro in June 1898, actively spread a right-wing version of Japanese Pan-Asianism against Russia.84 The Independent reported that a member of the society named Kunitomo Shigeaki entered Inch’on in June 1899, organized the Dobunkai branch in Korea, and decided to establish a Japanese school in P’yongyang.85 The association dispatched a member immediately for this task. In June 1899, the Ministry of Education (Hakpu) sent the petition of a Japanese, Shinto Yoshio, to the government of Southern P’yongan Province. Shinto wanted to open a school in P’yongyang and received permission to do so from the provincial government with a welcoming comment:86 The petitioner, Shinto Yoshio, took on the task of educating the younger generation and did not hesitate to make an effort. . . . Japan recently established the Tonga Tongmun hoe (ToA Dobunkai), selected talented and knowledgeable scholars, and dispatched them to many countries. This person [Shinto] took up the duty. . . . In the old days of Paekche, Wang In arrived in Japan and transmitted The Analects of Confucius and The Thousand-Character Text. . . . Now, as the Heavenly Way circulates, the time has come when this [Japanese] person guides our people and transmits the knowledge of enlightenment. How could this not be fortuitous? Acting Japanese consul Shinjo worked with Shinto to open an English-language school, requesting that the Korean government allow them to use a government building under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Finance. Although this request was unusual, the local magistrate permitted it because Shinto’s school was affiliated with the Ministry of Education. Since the magistrate did not want to allow the school to use the building for free, he received approval from the Ministry of 82. ID, September 29, 1898. 83. KSTN, 36:89. 84. The association was one of the main constituents of the Kokumin Domeikai (Anti-Russian National League) formed in September 24, 1901. In January 1901, the Kokuryukai (or Amur River Society) was set up. 85. ID, June 24, 1899. 86. KSTN, 36:97–98.

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Finance to lease it for a period of two years.87 The Independent as well as Hwangsong sinmun reported that Shinto established a Japanese-language (instead of English-language) school. According to the Independent, the school had two hundred students,88 and Dobunkai was looking to construct another school in Uiju.89 Further research is required to understand how Dobunkai’s ideological orientation influenced Shinto’s management of the school and the dissemination of Japanese Pan-Asianism in the province. But Shinto’s school was not the only channel through which the Japanese propagated Pan-Asianism at the time. As the case of the Independent indicates, residents in the province had access to newspapers and pamphlets printing anti-Qing, pro-Japanese narratives.90 It is revealing that the famous medical doctor Yi Che-ma, who synthesized traditional Korean medicine and created a theory of four physical constitutions (sasang uihak), was exposed to such pamphlets. Yi was from Hamhung in Hamgyong Province, the northeastern region of Korea. Enthusiastic about absorbing information on the international situation, he left many political essays and records of conversations he had with Japanese officials who visited his government office. Among his collected writings is an essay that analyzes the international circumstances of the period from a Pan-Asianist perspective. The essay foresees the threat of Russia and admonishes Korea that it should become closer to Japan and accept its leadership. The editor of Yi Che-ma’s papers denies the possibility that Yi himself wrote an essay with such a “pro-Japanese” tenor. Instead, he speculates that the essay was in wide circulation among contemporary Korean intellectuals and that this is why it was included in Yi’s collection.91

Pro-Japanese and Pro-Reform Conversion of Tonghak Leaders As noted earlier, Tonghak leaders turned in a pro-reform and pro-Japanese direction during the post-Kabo period. This resulted in the political convergence of the two major anti-status quo forces in Korea—namely, the reformist elites from the Enlightenment School and the Tonghak rebels.92 This convergence of

87. Ibid., 36:102–103. 88. IG, July 14, 1899; ID, September 30, 1899. 89. ID, October 27, 1899. 90. Andre Schmid, Korea between Empires. 91. Yi Che-ma, Tongmu Yugo, ed. Yi Ch’ang-il (Seoul: Ch’onggye Ch’ulp’ansa, 1999), pp. 35, 235–251. 92. Vipan Chandra, Imperialism, Resistance, and Reform in Late Nineteenth-Century Korea: Enlightenment and the Independence Club (Berkeley: Center for Korean Studies, Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, 1988), chapter 8.

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Korean reformist elites and Tonghaks meant that they both had come to endorse the ideology of progress, the strength of Western civilization, and the relevance of the Japanese model in reforming Korea. This convergence was susceptible to the Japanese colonial project. Yet this choice of the reformers and rebels maintained persistent agendas of their own, including a reluctance to sanction unlimited power of the government and a desire to establish institutional constraints over its officials. The defeated Tonghaks remained fragmented for a while, fleeing from the government, which was hunting them down. Hwang Hyon, the famous Confucian scholar, recorded in his diary the scattered traces of Tonghak activities during this period. Some Tonghaks joined the Righteous Armies to avenge the assassination of Queen Min and continued their resistance against the Japanese. Others kept their religious and political identities as Tonghak rebels. Hwang Hyon recorded a government report noting that in 1900, religious Tonghak gatherings were witnessed in the southern regions. Some other Tonghaks—or at least the government identified them as such—became “bandits.”93 It was the leaders of the Tonghak Northern Assembly (pukchop) who rebuilt the Tonghak organization and reclaimed the leadership of Tonghak followers. The Northern Assembly leaders escaped government persecution in the south by moving their base to northern Korea. The government pursued some underground Tonghak organizations in the region,94 but it failed to root them out entirely. Son Pyong-hui, the supreme patriarch of the Tonghak religion, initiated this northern expansion. Son established his unilateral leadership as the patriarch in the conference of the Tonghak leaders in July 1900 and consolidated his power when the government persecuted Son’s major competitors—Son Ch’on-min by execution and Kim Yon-guk by arrest in August 1900.95 Son imposed new ideas on Tonghak believers,96 placing reformism and pro-Japanese diplomacy at the forefront. This initiative contradicted the antagonism of the 1894 rebel leaders toward the Kabo reformist cabinet. When Chon Pong-jun was about to be beheaded, according to Hwang Hyon, he had cursed Pak Yonghyo, So Kwang-bom, and other leaders of the Kabo Reform as pro-Japanese “traitors.”97

93. Maech’on Yarok (hereafter MCYR), trans. Kim Chun (Seoul: Kyomunsa, 1994), pp. 380–381, 455, and 461–464. 94. Choe Ki-yong, Han’guk Kundae Kyemong Sasang Yon’gu (Seoul: Ilchogak, 2003), p. 225. 95. Yi Yong-ch’ang, “Hanmal Son Pyong-hui ui Tonghyang kwa ‘Ch’ondo Kyodan Chaegon Undong,’ ”Chungang Saron 15 (December 2001): 59–60. 96. “Pongyo Yoksa,” in Choe Ki-yong and Pak Maeng-sin, eds., Hanmal Ch’ondogyo Charyojip, vol. 2 (Seoul: Kukhak Charyowon, 1997), p. 270. 97. MCYR, p. 338.

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Around 1900, Son Pyong-hui evidenced a turn to the discourse on civilization and enlightenment.98 The History of Our Religion (Pongyo yoksa, hereafter abbreviated as The History) describes Son’s transition during his flight from the government’s manhunt under the escort of Yi Yong-gu. Son explained that he found it necessary to study the genuine characteristics of “civilization” and thus decided to go abroad in the spring of 1901: Hoping to display our Way brightly in this world, we can accomplish our aims only after we understand civilization sufficiently and become the champions of civilization. I think that after I travel and see foreign countries, which I expect to accomplish in ten years, and understand the characteristics of civilization and the circumstances of the world, then there won’t be any obstacles to spreading our Way widely.” Songsa99 said this and asked what they thought. They all agreed that his words were right.100 This anecdote reveals that Son and the Tonghak leaders decided to reconcile the purpose of their religion with the progress of “civilization,” recasting the goal of their religion as becoming the “champion of civilization” rather than its enemy. It was hardly a linear trajectory from the rebellious Tonghaks to the patriotic Righteous Armies and then to their participation in nationalist resistance movements during the colonial period. According to The History, the Tonghak patriarch Son Pyong-hui originally intended to go to the United States. Son went to Japan to board a ship to the United States, but he failed to collect enough money to purchase a ticket.101 Carl Young doubts this explanation since Son’s life in Japan was quite well funded and even luxurious. Young argues that Son chose Japan because its proximity to Korea would make it easier to manage the Tonghak organization in Korea.102 In March 1901, Son P’yong-hui with his brother Son Pyong-hum and Yi Yong-gu, the later Ilchinhoe leader, traveled from Wonsan in Hamgyong Province to Pusan, the southern port closest to Japan. Son P’yong-hui then went to Nagasaki and on to Osaka. In early 1902, Son selected twenty-four students from among the children of Tonghak followers and brought them from Wonsan to Nara, where he had them educated in the Japanese language. He moved to Kyoto in 98. Choe Ki-yong, Han’guk Kundae Kyemong Sasang Yon’gu, p. 227. 99. This term, meaning “sacred priest” in Korean, refers in this passage to Song Pyong-hui. 100. “Pongyo Yoksa,” in Choe Ki-yong and Pak Maeng-sin, eds., Hanmal Ch’ondogyo Charyojip, vol. 2, p. 272. 101. Ibid., p. 20. 102. Carl Young, “Tonghak and Son P’yong-hui’s Early Leadership, 1899–1904,” Review of Korean Studies 5, no. 1 (2002): 63–83.

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June 1902 and admitted the students to middle schools established by the Japanese government. Tonghak leaders continued to send students to Japan even after they had joined the Ilchinhoe. Yi Kwang-su, the famous Korean novelist, was one such Ilchinhoe student sent to Japan.103 Son P’yong-hui stayed for four years in Japan before returning to Korea in January 1906.104 While in Japan, he mingled with former leaders of the Kabo reformist cabinet, including Pak Yong-hyo, Cho Hui-yeon, Kwon Tong-jin, O Se-ch’ang, Yi Chin-ho, Cho Hui-mun, and others who had been exiled to Japan. Son’s contacts with these reformers must have helped him more thoroughly understand their reform ideas. Son converted some of these refugees, such as Kwon Tong-jin and O Se-ch’ang, into Tonghak believers. According to O Mun-hwan, a scholar of Tonghak thought, Son synthesized his new reform ideas in 1903 in two essays called “Samjonnon” (The theory of the three wars), and “Myongnijon” (The essay for explaining the doctrine). O argues that the concept of kyojon ssangjon (the religion’s double frontiers) in “Myongnijon” summarizes Son’s political thought. This concept means that the Tonghak religion should fight on two frontiers, the political and the moral realms; that the religion should rectify politics; and that politics should be moralized. This process could begin with moral enlightenment of the people not in Western terms but in the Tonghak doctrine of “Man is heaven,” and “Treat men as if they are heaven.” Although this association of politics with moral enlightenment is found in Confucianism, O argues, the Tonghak religion centers the people in the fight for moral and political emancipation.105 Son’s 1903 “Samjonnon” proposed a specific direction to reform politics. His proposal resembled the ideas of the Korea elite reformers and emphasized the “enlightenment” of the people by education, the people’s political participation, the construction of a national assembly, and the gradual development of wealth by industrialization. Son asked the people to make efforts in three areas: religion, the military, and the economy. Even if the people could not immediately overcome the military strength of the West, they could compete with the West by pursuing moral superiority and by accumulating economic power by industrialization.106

103. Nagashima Hiroki, “Isshinkai no Katsudo to sono Tenkai.” Nenpo Chosengaku, no. 5 (July 1995), p. 66. 104. Choe Ki-yong, Han’guk Kundae Kyemong Sasang Yon’gu, p. 227. 105. O Mun-hwan, “Uiam Son Pyong-hui ui ‘Kyojon Ssangjon’ ui Chongch’i Sasang,’ ” Chongch’i Sasang Yon’gu 10, no. 2 (Fall 2004): 59–60. 106. Ibid., pp. 60–62.

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Son’s essays in 1903 seemingly aimed at preparing the Tonghak believers for another political scheme to take advantage of the potential for war between Russia and Japan and challenge the Korean court under Russia’s protection.107 Ch’oe Ki-yong, who studied Son’s life in Japan, argues that from 1903 on Son allied with Korean exiles in Japan and planned to overthrow the Korean government.108 One of these attempts was related to the deputy chief of staff in the Japanese army (yukkun ch’ammobonbu ch’ajang), Tamura Iyojo (1854–1903). According to The History, Son had a discussion with Tamura in 1903 about the situation in the East.109 They agreed that the pro-Russian faction in Korea must be removed and Russia isolated to achieve “peace in the East.” Afterward, Son ordered his brother, Son Pyong-hum, to accompany Tamura to Korea to counter Russian influences. This plan was not realized, The History continues, because Son Pyong-hum and Tamura both died of sudden illness as soon as they arrived in Pusan. When Son Pyong-hui received the telegram about their deaths, he bitterly grieved over the failure of the plot and fasted for three days. Ch’oe Ki-yong doubts the credibility of this narrative, as Tamura did not actually go to Pusan but died of a chronic disease in the Red Cross hospital in Tokyo. However, Ch’oe acknowledges the possibility that Son was acquainted with Tamura and discussed with him the plot that Son had been hatching with Korean refugees in Japan. Son sought to persuade the Japanese military to help him in his efforts to overthrow the Korean government.110 The death of Tamura seemingly frustrated Son, who had expected Tamura to help him obtain this military support. When the RussoJapanese War broke out, Son contributed 10,000 won to the Japanese government to aid its war efforts. The History adds that this money was a token of “his support for the yellow race fighting to expel the white race.”111

Western Ascendance and the Growth of Pan-Asianism The years between the fall of the Kabo cabinet and the Russo-Japanese War were a “transnational” moment in Korean history. The features of this period were most evident in the popular movements of the northwestern provinces. A conjuncture 107. Yi Yong-ch’ang, “Hanmal Son Pyong-hui ui Tonghyang kwa ‘Ch’ondo Kyodan Chaegon Undong,’ ” pp. 70–71. 108. Ibid., pp. 232–238. 109. Benjamin B. Weems, Reform, Rebellion, and the Heavenly Way (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1964), p. 54. 110. Ch’oe Ki-yong, Han’guk Kundae Kyemong Sasang Yon’gu, p. 233. 111. “Pongyo Yoksa,” pp. 274–275.

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of often diverging ideological, political, and cultural elements and multiple political possibilities characterized this decade. During this period, the Korean monarch Kojong tried to strengthen the kingdom by incorporating some modern institutions into his statecraft. He enhanced royal power and prestige by founding the Great Korean Empire and monopolizing the country’s power and resources in his own hands. However, in the northwestern provinces, popular attitudes toward the monarchy were more confrontational than cordial. Catholic rioters used the presence of Western churches to dispute issues ranging from religious repression and penal justice to economic benefits and corrupt tax collection. Protestors in the American and British mines rankled at the king’s concessions that expelled them from worksites they had long cultivated. Their neighborhoods also suffered from the cultural and economic transgressions of these Westerners. It is important to note that the varied popular movements in the northwestern provinces did not immediately translate into a rise in nationalism there. For example, the encounter between An Chung-gun’s family and Kim Ku during and after the Tonghak Rebellion shows that the influence of a Confucian scholar mediated Kim Ku’s transition from Tonghak rebel to militant nationalist.112 However, this Confucian orthodoxy was declining rather than prospering in the northwestern provinces, at least during this post-Kabo period. The commanders of the Righteous Armies organized by the Hwaso School were dismayed by their lukewarm reception in the region. They also detested the northwesterners’ approval of the reform regulations of the “pro-Japanese” Kabo cabinet. Meanwhile, the Independence Club expanded its influence, and four of its eight local branches emerged in P’yongan Province. Accordingly, Chang Chi-yon praised the region’s “advanced” status in modern education and contrasted it to that of the southern regions dominated by “bigoted” Confucians.113 At this juncture, Pan-Asianism found space for broadening its audience in the northwestern provinces. The Independent was increasingly caught up with the Japanese discourse on Pan-Asianism. Until the eve of the Russo-Japanese War, Pan-Asianism was influential enough to persuade An Chung-gun, whose family had been pro-Western when leading the Catholic protests in Hwanghae Province, of its merits. This spread of Pan-Asianism coincided with the expansion of underground Tonghak organizations in the northwestern provinces and their conversion to the ideology. It is unclear what exactly spurred the expansion of the Tonghaks and their new position in the northwestern provinces. The popular movements described here can only hint at what the people in the region 112. On Kim Ku’s relation with the Confucian scholar at the An family’s residence, see Kim Ku, Paekpom Ilchi (Seoul: Samjungdang, 1990), pp. 44–48. 113. Chang Chiyon, “Ch’uksa,” p. 5.

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faced during the time. Clearly, the new Tonghaks’ Pan-Asianism and its reformist solution to Korea’s problems resonated with the concerns of northwesterners, who were coping with the aggressive intrusion of Western forces, Chinese incursions and violence across the Yalu River and along the coast, and the region’s complex relations to the Korean court. In short, the multiple orientations of the popular movements discussed in this chapter were not necessarily susceptible to the exclusive nationalist solution articulated during Japan’s protectorate period. These movements also disapproved of Kojong’s ambition for a stronger monarchy. Given events in this region, we need to be cautious about concluding that nationalist discourses had already achieved hegemony among Koreans during this period.

3 SENSATIONAL CAMPAIGNS The Russo-Japanese War and the Ilchinhoe’s Rise, 1904–1905

When Japan launched the Russo-Japanese War in February 1904, Korean reformists observed the military campaigns with wonder and suspicion. Yun Ch’i-ho, the leader of the Independence Club, was one of the reformers who oscillated between these two feelings. After Japan declared victory in the war, Yun wrote in his diary: “I am glad Japan has beaten Russia. The islanders have gloriously vindicated the honors of the Yellow race. The white man has so long been the master of the situation that he has kept the Oriental races in over for [sic] centuries.” He was nonetheless reluctant to celebrate the victory, observing, “I love and honor Japan as a member of the Yellow race; but hate her as a Korean from whom she is taking away everything, independence itself.”1 While some of the most educated Korean reformist elites, such as Yun, agonized over this dilemma, other Koreans with more obscure social pedigrees anchored their hopes on Japan’s rhetoric that it would fight for East Asians and support reform in Korea. Among those Koreans, the Ilchinhoe and the converted Tonghaks most positively associated their political vision with Japan’s advance in the war. As Japanese troops were landing on the Korean Peninsula, the Ilchinhoe and Tonghaks simultaneously conducted nationwide uprisings against the Korean monarchy. The progress of the Russo-Japanese War and its connection to the Ilchinhoe’s rise were most vividly observed in Korea’s northwestern provinces, which the Japanese troops crossed as they headed to battlegrounds in Manchuria.

1. Yun Ch’i-ho, Yun Ch’iho Ilgi, vol. 6 (Seoul: Kuksa P’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1976), p. 143. 81

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Far more than previous studies have acknowledged, the Ilchinhoe (Advance in Unity Society) emerged as a formidable political force in Korea during the Russo-Japanese War. The Ilchinhoe were originally organized on August 22, 1904, by a group of political figures in Seoul, including Yun Si-byong, a former member of the Independence Club, and Song Pyong-jun, a former translator for the Japanese army headquarters in Korea.2 The Ilchinhoe soon merged with the Chinbohoe (Progressive Society), which was composed of converted Tonghaks. The patriarch of the Tonghak religion, Son Pyong-hui, had organized the Chinbohoe and decided its aims, platform, and regulations after he deliberated over the religion’s new direction during his exile in Japan.3 In exile, the patriarch placed Yi Yong-gu, a renowned leader of the 1894 rebellion, in command of the Chinbohoe.4 The Ilchinhoe and Chinbohoe announced on October 1, 1904, that they shared the same reformist purposes. The two groups united under the name “Ilchinhoe” in December 1904.5 The Ilchinhoe’s emergence was scandalous. The group proclaimed itself to be “the people’s representative” (ch’ongdae or taep’yoja) and began its opening assemblies with a collective haircutting ceremony—a striking visual spectacle to the Korean people. One aristocrat who observed the ceremony commented that the haircutting demonstrated the “degenerate and absurd customs” of its participants. An editorial in the Korea Daily News described the Ilchinhoe members with short hair as “ugly and pathetic.”6 This haircutting ceremony not only broke the Confucian taboo of altering the body and hair inherited from one’s parents but also demonstrated the Ilchinhoe’s rejection of the social hierarchy embodied in traditional dress and hairstyles. When the pro-Japanese reformists of the 1894 cabinet had ordered that Korean traditional topknots be cut off, they had encountered angry social reactions and their movement had failed, unable to garner popular support for their agenda.7 The Ilchinhoe haircutting ceremony 2. The Ilchinhoe’s original name was Yushinhoe, the Restoration Society. 3. “Pongyo Yoksa,” in Choe Ki-yong and Pak Maeng-sin, eds., Hanmal Ch’ondogyo Charyojip, vol. 2 (Seoul: Kukhak Charyowon, 1997), p. 276. The patriarch discussed the new direction of the religion with Kwon Tong-jin, O Se-ch’ang, and Cho Hui-yon, reformists who then became Tonghak followers. Together they decided to name the new organization the Chinbohoe. 4. Yi’s original name was Yi Mansik. He changed his first name to Yonggu after he organized the Chinbohoe. According to Yi Yong-ch’ang’s article, Yi Yong-gu, at Son’s direction, contacted the Tonghak leaders in March 1903 and decided on the timing for their uprising in October 1903. Yi and the Tonghak leaders started organizing the popular assemblies under several different names, Taedonghoe (March 1904), Chungniphoe (July 1904), and Chinboe (September 1904). Son also called forty Tonghak leaders to Japan in February 1904 and ordered them to support Japan in the RussoJapanese War. Yi Yong-chang, “Hanmal Son Pyong-hui ui Tonghyang kwa ‘Ch’ondogyo Chaegon Undong,’ ” 70–71. 5. Wonhan’guk Ilchinhoe Yoksa (hereafter IH), vol. 1, pp. 43–44. 6. KD, November 19, 1904. 7. Carter J. Eckert et al., Korea Old and New: A History (Seoul: Ilchogak for Korea Institute, Harvard University, 1990), pp. 228–229; Hyung Gu Lynn, “Fashioning Modernity: Changing Meanings

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was a public statement in light of this reaction to the haircut decree of the 1894 cabinet. This chapter illustrates how the Ilchinhoe came forward both in local arenas and on the national stage during the Russo-Japanese War and how its forceful emergence riled the Korean monarch, the Korean ruling elite, and the Japanese.

The Progress of the War and the Ilchinhoe’s Rise: The Northwestern Provinces In the northwestern provinces of Korea, skirmishes had surfaced here and there in 1903, as Japan considered the Russian movements in Yongamp’o, P’yongan Province, to be intrusions into Korean territory. As Japanese and Russian moves became more aggressive in the region, they openly infringed on the authority of the Korean government and competed for the material, administrative, and human resources available in the region. The population in the region was quickly drawn into the tensions of the imminent war and its subsequent full-scale development. Ilchinhoe members mobilized their own labor and resources for the war from Japan’s side and took advantage of the local government’s setbacks to expand their forces or to unveil their underground organizations. The Japanese took aggressive action that had not hitherto been seen at this level along the northern border of Korea. In February 1903, four Japanese men, carry ing pistols, swords, and rifles (choch’ong), attacked the local government hall in Yongch’on. The Japanese had a Korean guide named So Nae-ch’ol, originally from Asan, Ch’ungch’ong Province, who disguised himself as Japanese in the attack. The Japanese assaulted the local magistrate and tried to steal 13,000 won. When local military officers entered the hall to rescue the magistrate, the Japanese closed the gate of the hall and fought off the officers by striking them or shooting at them. The magistrate barely escaped. The Japanese ransacked the town of Yongch’on the next day, looking for signs of the magistrate.8 Conflicts were more visible in confrontations over timber, which had strategic importance for the construction of railways and telegraph poles. Musashi Kumataro, a Japanese merchant, provoked serious timber disputes in the area, leading to diplomatic conflicts with Korea and Russia.9 When tens of thousands of cubic feet

of Clothing in Colonial Korea,” Journal of International and Area Studies 11, no. 3 (2004); and Yi Min-won, “Choson ui tanballyong kwa Ulmi uibyong,” Uiamhak yon’gu 1 (Dec. 2002): 39–64. The Korea Daily News includes many articles on the Ilchinhoe’s haircuts. For social responses to the group’s initial haircutting ceremonies, see reports in September and October 1904. 8. KSTN, 38:179–180. 9. Ibid., 36:177–179, 38:181.

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of timber drifted down the river in June 1903 from Chasong to Uiju, where Yongamp’o was located, Russians planted Russian flags on the floating timber on the riverside of Yongamp’o. In response, Musashi placed Japanese flags on the timber that the Russians had not yet flagged. This Russo-Japanese conflict frustrated the Korean timber owners, who could only stand by and watch.10 A local Korean official lamented the fact that such disputes caused losses to Korean timber merchants. He also noted the growing hostility between the Russians and the Japanese, saying, “It seems that there will be murder between them.”11 This Russo-Japanese timber dispute was connected to the construction of a Russian settlement in Yongamp’o. The construction resulted in stiff demands for wood, encouraging illegal lumbering by the Russians.12 The situation in Yongamp’o intensified at the end of April 1903, when the Russians started cutting down the forest within the Whitehorse Mountain Wall (Paengma sansong) and constructing railways and telegraph poles in Yongam’po. The local defense army in Uiju (Chinwidae) sent a telegram to the Korean government in early May informing them that forty or fifty Russians had settled in Yongamp’o and bought lands and houses.13 The acting magistrate of Chasong also reported on June 21 that 150 Russians had crossed the border from Tonghua to Chasong in the vicinity of Yongamp’o. Because the Russians were obstructing the local timber trade, Korean merchants in the area were forced to pile up their wood at the port and could not move or sell it.14 When the Korean government demanded that the Russians withdraw from the province, the Russians ignored this request.15 Japanese and Westerners also frequented the area to assess the Russian incursion.

10. Ibid., 36:213 and 217. The Korean director of the forest (sallim kamni) observed the troubles of the Korean merchants and persuaded the Russians and the Japanese to remove their flags from the drifting timber. Four or five days later, Musashi came with ten other people to the directorate and protested that the Koreans had asked them to place Japanese flags on the timber. He insisted that he had intended not to impose a tax on the timber but to restrain the Russians from doing so. He then forced the directorate to pay him 6,000 yang from its revenues. Musashi continued his timber disputes after this incident. In September 1903, four members of his company, carry ing pistols, resumed stamping the timber of Korean merchants. They snatched the timber and assaulted its Korean owners, who protested. They also ransacked the timber from neighboring villages and placed their stamps on it. 11. KSTN, 36:205. 12. Ibid., 36:207. According to the petition of local heads in Kosong County (myon) in Uiju, the Russians in Yongamp’o had cut down the willow trees on the riverbanks that had been planted for flood prevention. The local government had to provide money to the villagers to replant the trees. 13. KSTN, 36:184. 14. Ibid., 36:194. The prefectural head of the local elite bureau (hyangjang) in Chasong reported that the Russians built houses in the town, claiming that they would run businesses there. 15. Ibid., 36:184, 188–190. Korean officials monitored the numbers of foreigners and their activities in the area. Ibid., 36:191.

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Under the pretense of visiting Yongch’on, Shinjo Junketsu, the Japanese consul in P’yongyang, took the opportunity to spy on the situation in Yongamp’o.16 The Korean government reported that the Russians were installing telegraph poles and wires in the area and connecting wires from the Andong area to Yongamp’o in July 1903. The Korean Foreign Ministry protested to the Russian consulate, ordered local officials to pull out the telegraph poles, and removed fifteen poles erected in Miruk-tong, Uiju.17 But by August 1903 the number of foreigners in Yongamp’o had increased to thirty Russians and 1,300 Chinese workers. The government measured the size of the Russian settlement in Yongamp’o as 6,360 feet (ch’ok) from east to west and 4,260 feet from north to south. Local officials complained that those in the Russian settlement did not follow the regulations of the Korean government. The Chinese workers in the settlement smoked opium, which was strictly forbidden by the Korean government, while the translators and police officers in the settlement offended the villagers.18 Although the Korean government desperately wanted to prevent an international conflict from occurring within its borders, the situation in Yongamp’o was beyond its control. The Russo-Japanese War commenced in early 1904 when Russia and Japan failed to resolve their conflicts over Korea and Manchuria after six months of negotiations. The Japanese had insisted that the Russians agree to establishing a neutral zone along the Yalu River and to extending the Korean railroad into southern Manchuria. On the contrary, the Russians demanded that Japan consider Manchuria beyond the sphere of Japanese interests and agree to establish a neutral zone in northern Korea above the 39th parallel.19 Both sides refused to concede their interests in Korea and Manchuria. Ian Nish argues that Russia might have averted war had it not provoked Japan with its expansionist policy toward Korea and China and delayed the evacuation of its army from Manchuria, in accord with the agreement of April 1902. Nevertheless, he argues that Japan was responsible for the outbreak of the war itself because the Russian leaders

16. Ibid., 36:194. On June 21, 1903, Mun Yong-gon, chief administrator of the local elite bureau (chipkang) in Chinso County, reported that a steamship (yunson) had arrived in the county at high tide, early in the morning. Those on board wore Japanese costumes, but the total number was not identified. He sent an official to inspect the boat. A Korean named Yi Hak-in, an Englishman, and three or four Japanese were on board. They claimed that they had come to set up tax offices on the riversides of Korea and China. On June 22, a steamship was also found in Ch’olsan, with twenty-five people on board. A Chinese translator traveling with them claimed that they were English tourists. Because they left the port immediately, the local government was unable to investigate the purpose of their visit or the cargo they carried. 17. Ibid., 36:204. 18. Ibid., 36:221–223, 232–233. 19. James Wilford Garner, “Record of Political Events,” Political Science Quarterly 19, no. 2 (June 1904): 331.

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had neither prepared organizationally and logistically for war nor anticipated that Japan would choose war to solve these conflicts.20 After its decade-long withdrawal from Korea following the Triple Intervention, Japan was resolved to fight against Russia this time. Without provocation, Japanese troops attacked the Russian squadron at Port Arthur at midnight on February 8, 1904. Japan and Russia both declared war on February 10, 1904. The Japanese leadership considered the occupation of strategic locations in Korea vital for maneuvering Japanese troops into tactically advantageous positions at the beginning of the war. The first detachment of Japanese troops occupied Seoul on February 8, in advance of the formal declaration of war. Japan also pressed forward in the construction of a railway between Seoul and Pusan, the closest port to Japan, in order to expedite the movement of war supplies.21 Japan planned to occupy the Korean Peninsula up to the Yalu River by the end of April. For this to work, it was critical for Japan to seize P’yongyang before Russia did. The Japanese army took over the P’yongyang Telegram Company on February 23 and extended wires to Chunghwa.22 Japanese troops filed into Yongch’on on April 10 and moved on toward Yongamp’o. The Japanese army began crossing the Yalu River in the latter part of April and scored a victory over Russia on May 1. Japan’s victory at the Battle of the Yalu secured most of P’yongan Province, forcing Russian troops to retreat northward. As the Japanese army secured the region from the Russians, the Tonghaks resumed their political mobilization. According to Yi Yong-ch’ang’s study on this mobilization, Son Pyong-hui in Japan planned the Tonghak uprising ahead in association with his scheme to overthrow the Korean monarchy. He issued his special order in early 1903 for this uprising and entrusted Yi Yong-gu to command the domestic Tonghak organization.23 The characteristics of Tonghak resurgence in the province were described in reports of the P’yongan provincial government (kibu poch’op) and those of Ku Wan-hui, the Uiju magistrate and general commander in charge of war supplies for Japanese troops. Provincial reports to the Ministry of the Interior anticipated in April 1904 that popular riots (minyo) would crop up as the war destabilized the government’s grip on the regions. They soon observed that “bandits,” such as the Tonghaks or Paekhaks (tonghak paekhak chi ryu), had infiltrated villages the Japanese army had passed through and had provoked popular unrest there.24 The Japanese army expressed concern about the situation, informing the governor about a riot in Chunghwa, 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

Ian Nish, The Origins of the Russo-Japanese War (London: Longman, 1985), pp. 239–244. H. W. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom (London: Amalgamated Press, 1904), p. 163. Ibid., p. 308. Yi Yong-ch’ang, “Tonghak Kyodan ui Minhoe Sollip kwa Chinbohoe,” p. 359. KSTN, 40:1–3.

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1. “The Japanese Second Division entering P’ypngyang” (1904). H. W. Wilson describes Japan’s seizure of P’ypngyang as one of the most critical moments in the direction of the war. Russian troops under General Mistchenko arrived in P’ypngyang without accurate information about the size of the Japanese forces there and retreated quickly when attacked by Japanese soldiers. From H. W. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom, vol. 1 (London: Amalgamated Press, 1904), p. 312.

where a man named Kim Yong-hak had gathered five to six hundred people, accumulated provisions, and created turmoil. The governor sent out officers and arrested the leaders of the riot, including Kim. Suspecting their connection with the Tonghaks or Paekhak bandits, the governor made efforts to hinder their rapid expansion into the province.25 In the summer and fall of 1904, their provincial governor received successive reports that the Tonghaks had resurfaced in their hundreds or thousands in various prefectures. Tonghaks assembled on September 7, 1904, in Samdung and Kangdong, stating that they were marching to the capital. The Samdung magistrate reported that two hundred Tonghaks from Songch’on and Koksan entered his prefecture on September 6 and left for Kangdong at dawn the following

25. Ibid., 40:4.

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day. Three hundred additional Tonghaks, waving their two banners, entered his prefecture the following day, joining about a thousand Tonghaks coming from Yangdok, Koksan, Suan, and other locations. The Kangdong magistrate informed the command of the Japanese Logistic Troops of this and requested help. Because the Tonghaks had ignored orders of the local magistrate, the Japanese commander, Miyahara Masahito, intervened with his soldiers and threatened the Tonghaks, causing them to scatter. He arrested their leaders and brought them to the magistrate for an investigation.26 Then, on September 27, the governor reported that the Tonghaks had orchestrated a gathering of several thousand people in Sunch’on—the largest assembly among those formed in the northern provinces. For the first time in his reports, the governor mentioned that some Tonghaks had begun to call themselves members of the “Ilchinhoe company” (ilchin hoesain), or “Ilchinhoe members” (ilchin hoemin). He wrote that they attempted to disguise their identity as Tonghaks to avoid Japanese reprisals.27 The records of Ku Wan-hui also help illuminate the general features of the Tonghaks’ uprising in the province. Ku commented in his diary about provincial conditions during the war and regularly sent reports to the Korean Foreign Ministry. His records show some lag time in comparison with the governor’s reports. This is presumably because Uiju was located to the north of the prefectures whose situation the governor described and because the Tonghaks initiated their activities from the southern areas that had been securely occupied by the Japanese army. Ku first mentioned the Tonghaks in his diary on July 10, 1904, writing that complaints against Tonghak activities were beginning to flood his office. He immediately prohibited the Tonghak religion and arrested several section heads (chopchu) of the organization. He estimated that Tonghak forces in the province had grown to a size comparable to their strength during the 1894 rebellion in the southern provinces.28 Ku dispatched his officials to monitor the Tonghaks in the province. He observed that a number of years had already passed since the Tonghaks had revived their organization and set up their subsections (p’o) and sections (chop) in the province. Their leaders, “the Great Masters” (taesonsaeng), were mostly from the Northern Assembly (pukchop) of the Tonghak religion. The Northern Assembly had maintained a more moderate political stance during the 1894 rebellion than had the Southern Assembly under the rebellion leader, Chon Pong-jun. Ku wrote that the religious doctrines and chants of Tonghaks in P’yongan Province were

26. Ibid., 40:21–22. 27. Ibid., 40:22. 28. Ibid., 36:262.

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identical to those of the Tonghak rebels in 1894, yet their organizational roots did appear different from the Southern Assembly of the Tonghaks. Ku interrogated the arrested section leaders (chopchu) and discovered that the Tonghak organization in the northern provinces had begun in Samsu and Kapsan, in the far west of Hamgyong Province, adjacent to Northern P’yongan. Branches (munp’a) of the organization spread in the Sonch’on, Kaech’on, Anju, Ch’angjin, Kanggye, and Chunghwa areas of P’yongan Province. They also thrived in Uiju and its neighboring prefectures, Ch’olsan and Yongch’on. Ku estimated that the Tonghak members in each section amounted to several tens of thousands among the large sections and subsections (taep’o taejop). Even small sections had no fewer than three or four thousand members.29 Ku wrote that the Tonghaks did not fear chanting in public or causing trouble. He specifically paid attention to the activities of the Tonghak branch in Moksa Port (chin), Sonch’on Prefecture, and identified them with the rebels of the Southern Assembly in 1894. Called “the Snow White Crowd” (Paekpaekto) among the local Tonghak organizations, Ku wrote, the Tonghaks in Sonch’on resembled the 1894 rebels under the leadership of Chon Pong-jun and Kim Kae-nam. Ku added that the local magistrate feared the hostility of Sonch’on Tonghaks toward the government and did not dare to investigate or punish them. Comparing the Tonghak forces in the province with “fires in a prairie,” Ku warned that if they captured the telegraph wires, there would be catastrophic consequences for the state. Explaining this Tonghak resurgence, Ku blamed local intermediaries for failing to inform the government about the growth of the Tonghaks in the province. He suspected that local clerks (kwanye) had connections with and secretly supported the Tonghaks. Ku argued that the clerks had deceptively reported that there were no Tonghaks in the province.30 Ku first recognized the Tonghaks’ transformation in his report of October 15, 1904.31 He quoted successive reports from many towns saying that the Tonghaks had organized a group or movement called the Chinbohoe and were holding “unusual” gatherings. The reports claimed that the Chinbohoe had assembled on October 9, 1904, in central locations of the area under his jurisdiction. After its members delivered long speeches, the reports related, they all cut their hair together. The report of the P’yongan provincial governor also indicated that the 29. This estimation corresponds to the Tonghak religion’s organizational principle at the time. One large subsection leader (taejopchu) was appointed per one thousand members and one small section leader (chopchu) per one hundred. The official record of the Ch’ondogyo religion claims that more than two hundred taejopchu were active during the time. Yi Yong-chang, “Tonghak Kyodan ui Minhoe Sollip kwa Chinbohoe,” p. 359. 30. Ibid., 36:262–263. 31. Ku’s reports in the summer of 1904 identified the rise of the Tonghaks with the resurgence of the 1894 rebels but did not mention any specific signs of their conversion.

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Tonghaks started their public haircutting in early October 1904. He wrote that two to three hundred Tonghaks gathered on October 8 in Kaech’on, read the letters of the Chinbohoe in public, and cut their hair.32 Ku Wanhui detested this ceremony and sent his troops to arrest those who had led the Chinbohoe’s assemblies.33 As commander of the Local Defense Troops (Chinwidae), Ku mobilized troops to subdue the Tonghaks.34 He dispatched police officers on September 25, 1904, to arrest Yu Won-t’aek, the head of the Tonghaks in Wolhwa County. But the Tonghaks wounded the officers and forced them to return empty-handed. Ku then received several reports that the Tonghaks in the province had filled the roads and were marching toward Seoul. Ku sent this information to the General Command of the Korean Military (Wonsubu). His reports, suggesting that the Tonghaks could pose a threat to the government by traveling to Seoul and linking up with supporters there, alarmed the monarch. As the Tonghaks held public assemblies in October 1904 to drum up support and increase membership for the Chinbohoe throughout the province, the government resumed its persecution. When Ku Wan-hui received orders from the General Command of the Korean Military to arrest the “Tonghak bandits,” he closely observed and provided a brief sketch of the scene as members of a Chinbohoe branch organized its assembly. They posted their circulars (t’ongmun) in key locations in the counties before the day of the assembly. The chief administrators of the local elite associations in the counties (myon chipkang) sent secret reports to the local government that groups of three to five Tonghaks were entering towns in their counties, and Ku sent out police officers and soldiers to watch the roads. The assembly day was October 8, 1904, and the weather was clear. The gathering was a success, its participants numbering one thousand. After Chinbohoe leaders made speeches, participating Chinbohoe members collectively cut their hair in public. Ku heard that the participants in the assembly came from the Sonch’on subsection (p’o) of the Tonghaks. Although Ku was ill that day, he appeared in person at Paegilwon, where the assembly (minhoe) was held. After directing the people at the assembly to disperse, he arrested tens of Tonghak section leaders (chopchu). Yet Ku failed to apprehend the leaders of the large sections (tae chopchu), whom he identified as Yi Yong-gu, Yi Man-sik,35 Kwon Chong32. KSTN, 40:24. 33. Ibid., 36:380. 34. Ku used the term tongbi (Tonghak bandits) to designate the Chinbohoe. However, he also used simply pi (bandits). To avoid uncertainty, I used only the records under the term tongbi to follow Chinbohoe activities in the province. 35. This is Yi Yong-gu’s original name. It is presumed that the magistrate heard the names of these leaders but did not realize that the two names referred to the same person.

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dok, and others. Ku lamented that he once again encountered the same troubles he had witnessed during the 1894 Tonghak Rebellion. When he dispatched police officers to guard the key posts of the area, Ku wrote, the Japanese soldiers joined and assisted his officers on guard. After Ku had broken up the opening assembly, he sent out police officers to search for more Tonghaks. He wrote that this was his thirty-third round of Tonghak inspections. He worried that after his dispersal of the Chinbohoe assembly, the popular mood in the area had grown more volatile. Ku received urgent reports from Ch’olsan, Yongch’on, and Sakchu, citing the fact that the Chinbohoe were holding meetings and public haircutting ceremonies. The reports added, however, that the Chinbohoe members were not fomenting any serious turmoil or violence.36 Ku discontinued his records on the Tonghaks for a month and a half, resuming his report on December 17, 1904. He was exhausted from his duties in war procurement for the Japanese army as well as domestic security. He had been ill between October 18 and December 1. He often lost consciousness, indicating that the illness must have been quite serious. He began to recover early in December and carried on with his pursuit of the Tonghaks. The Chinbohoe posted notices on December 3, 1904, about an assembly that would be held on December 9. The head of the Chinbohoe branch in Anju Prefecture, An Hong-ik, and the vice chair of the branch in Sakchu, Chu Ch’ang-gon, arrived in Uiju and announced that they would lead the assembly. Ku noted that they worded their announcement as though they had obtained an official permit for the assembly. Ku punished them in public for this “wicked” pretension in order to “wake up” the people from their “delusions” about the Chinbohoe. As Ku’s persecution of the Chinbohoe continued, Yun Kil-byong, chair of the Ilchinhoe Council (Ilchin P’yonguihoe), visited Uiju on December 5, 1904, to protest. Yun sought an audience with Ku but failed to receive permission to enter the government hall. Once Yun had left for other prefectures, Ku sent seven soldiers to watch until he crossed the boundary of Ku’s own district. Ku had a stubborn conviction that the illegal agitations of the Tonghaks would destabilize local society. He worried that they were leading the people to refuse government direction and to “act with freedom” (chayu haengdong). Ku believed that the Chinbohoe and Ilchinhoe were simply Tonghaks who had changed their names, and he expected that they would be a great source of danger for the state.37 He gave strict orders to the prefectures under his jurisdiction to prohibit the Chinbohoe or Ilchinhoe from entering their districts.38

36. KSTN, 36:381–382. 37. Ibid., 36:391. 38. Ibid., 36:392–393.

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At the end of December 1904, Ku faced Japanese intervention in his suppression of the Chinbohoe for the first time. Japanese interference took place after the Chinbohoe officially merged with the Ilchinhoe and carried out its movement under the name of the Ilchinhoe. On December 24, 1904, Kim To-son in Yangha County of the Uiju District Prefecture (pu) designated himself chair of the Ilchinhoe branch and opened an office. He chose a private inn (yosa) as his location and hung up a plaque that read “Office of the Ilchinhoe” (Ilchinhoe samuso). Ku promptly arrested Kim on the charge of having cut his hair without government permission. However, when Ku attempted to punish Kim in public, he received a notice from the Japanese Military Command. The message said that the foundation of the Ilchinhoe was to a great extent connected to Japan’s military purpose and that its members provided labor for railway construction and loyally responded to the military’s requests. Ku reported to the central government that this Japanese message forbade him from restricting the Ilchinhoe’s “illegal” activities. He was afraid, he added in the report, that if he continued to repress the Ilchinhoe in spite of this message, this action would conflict with his duty as the commander of war procurement for the Japanese army.39 After this Japanese intervention, Ku became more suspicious of the secret exchanges between the Ilchinhoe and the Japanese military. When the Ministry of the Interior ordered Ku to investigate the uprisings of the Righteous Armies in the province, Ku replied that he had yet to find such movements there. He instead reported his suspicion that the Ilchinhoe were just as dangerous as those who pretended to be Righteous Armies. Its members, Ku continued, trusted the power of their “patron,” the Japanese military, and volunteered for the Japanese as porters. They even lined up to hand over to the Japanese Military Command their hay reserved for paying taxes to the government (chongch’o). To the Japanese military, the Ilchinhoe members were useful because they mobilized labor for railway construction between Seoul and Uiju. The Ilchinhoe called up its members in P’yongan and Hwanghae provinces to work on this assignment. The magnitude of their mobilization helps us to estimate the organizational scale of the Ilchinhoe branches in the northern provinces. In Anju, a total of 26,697 members provided labor for the construction project between November 1904 and January 1905. The leaders of local branches supervised 39. Ibid., 36:394–395. This provincial situation is slightly inconsistent with the overall relationship between the Ilchinhoe and the Japanese found in other records. According to Yun Ch’i-ho, the Japanese military protected the Ilchinhoe’s opening ceremony in the capital but soon withdrew support to the group. Hasegawa advised Kojong in December 1904 to squash its popular assemblies. Yun Ch’i-ho, Yun Ch’iho Ilgi, pp. 79–80.

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TABLE 2. Ilchinhoe mobilization for railway construction, October 1904–September 1905 REGION

NUMBER OF ILCHINHOE PARTICIPANTS

COST (IN WON)

JAPAN’S PAYMENT (IN WON)

South P’ypngan

64,700

63,700

10,350

North P’ypngan

72,900

72,900

12,900

Hwanghae

11,514

11,514

3,160

149,114

148,114

26,410

Total Source: IH, 2:167–174.

members during the construction.40 The number of Ilchinhoe members from the three northwestern provinces mobilized for work on the project was 149,114 between October 1904 and September 1905. The sacrifice of the members was not small. The Ilchinhoe recorded that seventy-seven members from P’yongan Province were injured or killed during the construction.41 The total expense was 148,114 won. Since out of the total expense the Japanese military paid only the wages, the Ilchinhoe assumed the remainder of it. Although the actual dates for the work done were not identified, the wage per person was approximately 0.15 won in Southern P’yongan and 0.2 won in Hwanghae (Table 2). The wage rate that the Japanese paid according to Hwang Hyon’s diary was known to be 7 yang per person per day at the beginning of the war. Given the exchange rate of the time, 10 yang per 2 won, the actual paid wage rate was far lower than that announced officially by Japan, and it was far lower than the actual daily wage rate at the time.42 As a result of the Ilchinhoe’s assistance to the Japanese military and vice versa, the Ilchinhoe were able to continue opening branches after December 1904. Despite Ku’s suppression efforts, on January 5, 1905, the Ilchinhoe announced the opening of an assembly under a permit from the Japanese Logistic Support Command (pyongch’am saryongbu). Ku again dispatched police officers to monitor the meeting. The chair of the Ilchinhoe, Kim To-son, and its vice chair, Yi 40. IH, 2:16–17. The numbers of Ilchinhoe participants in the construction work, recorded under the names of their supervisors, were 6,570 under Mun Hak-su’s supervision (ch’onha); 6,359 under Kim Yonghak; 6,198 under Hong Ki-jo; and 2,196 under Yi Kyomsu. The Ilchinhoe spent 10,022 won 20 chon in Anju for the expenses of these mobilized members. 41. IH, 2:167–174. 42. MCYR, p. 562; Yi Yong-ho, Han’guk Kundae Chisejedo wa Nongmin Undong, p. 239. According to the exchange rate at the time, 10 yang were equal to 2 won. When the protectorate government changed the old Korean currency in 1905, the exchange rate for white copper coin (paektonghwa) was 10 yang (2 won) per 1 hwan of new currency. For brass coin (yopchon), the rate was higher: up to 10 yang per 2 hwan.

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Ch’ol-hong, opened the assembly in a field near the site where the Japanese military stored their grain, directly in front of a Japanese military station. The Ilchinhoe assembly gathered two hundred people who had already cut their hair. They proclaimed the four-point platform of the Ilchinhoe in their speeches. Ku recorded that the first point was to revere the Korean imperial house and to consolidate the foundations for Korean independence. The second was to recommend improvement of government. The third was to protect the people’s lives and property. The fourth was to assist the military goals of their ally, Japan. Ku exhibited a candid aristocratic exasperation over popular involvement in politics while describing this assembly. He wrote, “If we judge this [assembly] on the basis of law, the situation was extremely outrageous and absurd [sa kuk hae mang]. If we judge it on the basis of custom, the people were forgetting their place both in language and behavior [o sop pom pun].” Even though he could not halt the Ilchinhoe meetings because he had to avoid antagonizing the Japanese, Ku maintained that he would regulate the villages and districts under his control and find measures to ban their activities.43 Ku’s reports reveal that the emergence of the Ilchinhoe in the province went through several stages. Before the Russo-Japanese War, the Tonghaks had expanded their underground bases through the traditional units of the Tonghak organization, including sections (chop) and subsections (p’o). These underground organizations started in Samsu and Kapsan and spread out from there into the northern provinces. It was estimated that the membership numbered tens of thousands in the case of a large section and several thousand members in a small section. This estimate may not have been overly exaggerated, as the Ilchinhoe recorded that they could mobilize an approximate total of 150,000 members for Japanese railway construction projects in P’yongan and Hwanghae provinces. At the beginning of their emergence, the movements of the new Tonghaks did not appear to be well organized, and some of them did not distinguish themselves, in practice, from the old Tonghaks. It was in the fall of 1904 that the Tonghaks clearly manifested their new political vision in public. They organized public assemblies and started their dramatic haircutting ceremonies. Ku was able to repress them in the region until the Japanese military intervened at the end of December 1904. This Japanese intervention occurred at the same time that the Chinbohoe merged with the Ilchinhoe. Afterward, some Ilchinhoe branches convened their assemblies in front of Japanese military bases and made their dependence on Japanese support more visible to the public.

43. KSTN, 36:395.

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The Ilchinhoe’s Rise in National Politics: Reports of the Korea Daily News Among various newspapers published during the Russo-Japanese War, the Korea Daily News took a nationalist position and criticized Japan. The Japanese could not censor the newspaper because its owner was a British journalist, Ernest T. Bethell (1872–1909). Suspicious of Japan’s intentions in Korea and of the Ilchinhoe’s pro-Japanese stance, the Korea Daily News closely reported on the Ilchinhoe’s activities and related rumors and incidents. These reports were often derogatory yet help delineate the Ilchinhoe’s rise on a national scale. Whereas Ku Wan-hui’s reports focus narrowly on the strength of the new Tonghaks in his region and on his efforts to subdue them, newspaper records concentrate on the impact of the Ilchinhoe’s rise in central politics. Thus the Korea Daily News records reveal the group’s complicated relationship with elite reformers, the Korean monarch, and the Japanese military. The newspaper reported the Ilchinhoe’s first assembly on August 22, 1904. The assembly was originally held in a paper goods wholesale store (chijon toga) in Chongno, the commercial district of Seoul. Too cramped in the store, the assembly was moved to a wholesale store for white cotton cloth (paengmoktan toga). Four or five hundred members and observers joined the meeting. In this assembly, the chair, Yun Si-byong, announced the following four-point platform of the Ilchinhoe, which differed slightly from that recorded by Ku: (1) consolidate the Korean imperial house, (2) reform the Korean government, (3) protect the people’s life and property, and (4) reorder the military and financial administrations.44 Yun then read out the regulations of the organization. Members should be older than twenty-one years, and officials ranked higher than chuimgwan were not eligible for membership. Regular meetings were scheduled at two o’clock in the afternoon every Saturday, but special meetings were to be held as needed. The Korea Daily News emphasized Japan’s protection of this first meeting. When one platoon (sodae) of Korean soldiers and three officers of the Korean police prohibited people from joining the assembly, ten soldiers from the Japanese gendarmerie arrived and helped the Ilchinhoe continue the

44. These are slightly different from Son P’yonghui’s original proposals, quoted in MCYR. When he resumed his political activities in 1904, he publicly announced his changed position and sent five proposals to Korean newspapers and the Korean government. The proposals requested that the government establish a national assembly, respect religion, manage the finances of the government soundly, reform politics, and encourage studies abroad. Hwang Hyon suspected that Son sent these proposals after he saw that Yun Si-byong had begun his political activities. MCYR, pp. 561–562; “Pongyo Yoksa,” p. 308.

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meeting. In a separate article on the same day, the newspaper reported rumors that the premier of the Japanese Party, Kaishinto, was sponsoring the group.45 The Korea Daily News successively reported on the local assemblies of the Ilchinhoe and those of converted Tonghaks. Presenting a different angle from Ku Wan-hui’s reports, the newspaper offered more details about the aforementioned assemblies of the Tonghaks in Samdung, P’yongan Province. On two banners that these Tonghaks carried, they wrote the Chinese characters in and chu, meaning “benevolent country.” As noted in Ku’s report, Japanese soldiers in the area arrested the three leaders of these Tonghaks and delivered them to local government officials. The Korea Daily News published the circular (t’ongmun) from the Tonghak assembly that a local magistrate had copied and sent on to the central government. A Seoul resident, Pak Nam-su, was reported to have written the following points contained in the circular: 1. Protect the Korean imperial house and consolidate independence of Korea. 2. Reform the Korean government and obtain the freedom of the people [paeksong ui chayukwon]. 3. Japan was fighting against Russia for the “great cause” of bringing peace to East Asia. Therefore, discipline ourselves [the Tonghaks] rigorously never to interrupt the affairs of the Japanese military and the common cause (of the Japanese and the Tonghaks). 4. Shoulder any expenses with your own resources and never violate [the property of] people [to fund the movement]. 5. Promote friendship among countries, make progress in civilization, and never make concessions to foreign powers but adhere to the obligations of a neutral state. 6. Initiate assemblies in the whole country on September 25 and join the rallies in the capital [kyongsa e hoedong]. 7. Follow the command of the chairperson in all matters. If anyone does not comply with these regulations [changjong], that person should be critically punished. 8. On any remaining matters, follow further notices.46 The contents of this circular are intriguing. Even before the Tonghaks’ merger with the Ilchinhoe, the first two points clearly repeat the Ilchinhoe’s platform. But it explicitly mentions the “freedom of the people”—a dangerous word at the time—instead of the feebler Ilchinhoe version, “protect people’s lives and

45. KD, August 24, 1904. 46. KD, September 14, 1904.

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property.” In the fourth point, the Tonghaks warn their members that their material exploitation of people would undermine the organization’s purpose. Points 3 and 5 of the circular reveal the group’s views on international relations. The circular shows that the Tonghak platform supported Japan in the war because they considered the war’s “cause” a fight for peace in East Asia. However, it also envisioned an independent Korea, promoted friendly relations among civilized countries, and objected to forced concessions. The circular included a confusing remark on the obligations of the neutral state (chungnipkuk) that seemingly referred to the official position of the Korean emperor Kojong in the Russo-Japanese War. The rest of the points were orders for immediate actions: hold local assemblies throughout the country and follow the orders of the leaders. The Korea Daily News also published a Tonghak advertisement (kwanggo) written by Na In-hyop, who was identified as vice chair of the Tonghak Religion (Tonghak ch’a hoejang) and later became chair of one Ilchinhoe branch. This ad announced the establishment of a society (hoesa) in the capital and encouraged people to support its cause. The logic of the advertisement was immersed in the discourses of enlightenment and Pan-Asianism. It lamented that the countries of the world considered Korea “barbaric” due to the “backwardness” of its people, the corruption of its government officials, and their exploitation of the people. Regarding the Russo-Japanese War, the ad portrayed Koreans as victims of the Russian invasion: Russian soldiers in P’yongan and Hamgyong provinces had set fire to the people’s houses and raped women, and the government could not protect its people from this violence. Interestingly, the ad attributed this government defenselessness to the minds of Koreans being “neither enlightened nor united.” The advertisement stated that the goal of the society (hoesa) was to unite the people (tanhoe), emulating the effort of other countries to build toward enlightenment and civilization. Its objectives were to make Korea, Japan, and China bring about peace in East Asia and consolidate their governments and to remove the cruel administration of ministers and magistrates and assuage the concerns of the people. If Korea were enlightened, the advertisement continued, it could fight against the violence of Russians (aguk kangp’o). If its people were enlightened and civilized, they could not only save Korea from collapse but also rescue Japan.47 Yi Yong-chang argues that Na’s statement was identical with Son Pyong-hui’s statement in summer 1904 ordering the organization of the Chungniphoe, the earlier form of the Chinbohoe.48 Another Tonghak manifesto printed in the Korea Daily News contained the public statement of four Tonghak leaders arrested by the Ch’ungch’ong provincial governor. This 47. Ibid. 48. Yi Yong-ch’ang, “Tonghak Kyodan ui Minhoe Sollip kwa Chinbohoe,” p. 374.

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notice also took a Pan-Asianist position, yet with a more patriotic tone. It asserted that the Russo-Japanese War was critical in defining the general circumstances of East Asia (tonga taese). Although Japan was then winning great victories, the notice insisted, the yellow race could sustain itself only if Japan continued to beat the Russians in China (chungguk kkaji sungjon). As a result, the people of East Asia (tongyang inmin) could not but make anxious efforts for Japan’s victory. However, no matter who won or lost in the war, the statement went on, Korea would have difficulty maintaining its independence after the war. The statement thus urged Koreans to make efforts for saving the country because the country was ultimately their own, not just that of officials or the king.49 This statement offered its own theory of state and citizenry to persuade the people why they should undertake such efforts. According to the theory set forth in the Tonghak statement, the territory of a country (kukt’o) refers to the land on which its people live. As all the people living in the land call it “our country” (urinara), the land is the country of the people (kungmin ui nara). If twenty million Koreans did not understand this, the statement continued, they would lose their place to live.50 To preserve the country and the Korean imperial house, the twenty million people, young or old, ought to join together in a society with one heart (ilsim uro tanhoe haya). Even if only one in ten people were to survive, a vigorous effort should still be made for the sake of the state (kuka rul podap hal maum uro). Officials and the common people should unite, reform politics, and make progress toward a more civilized society. In terms of preserving Korean independence, they should formulate good policies on domestic governance and foreign relations. Finally, this Tonghak statement legitimized their current uprising by asserting their shared goals with the rebellion of 1894: poguk anmin (protect the country and comfort the people). The notice concluded with an interesting remark on religion: in an era when the five continents communicated and negotiated with each other (t’onghwa kyosop), Confucians, Buddhists, and Christians (yudo, puldo, sodo) should show mutual respect in their efforts to reform the country.51 These Tonghak statements, advertisements, and notices, along with the Ilchinhoe’s platform, roused people to take immediate action. Between September and December 1904, the Ilchinhoe rapidly expanded its organization throughout the country. According to the Korea Daily News, when the police investigated inns (kaekchu) in Seoul to expel lodgers from local areas (hyang gaek) if they had 49. KD, September 21, 1904. 50. This theory basically reiterates the concept excerpted in the editorial of the Independent. This Tonghak statement demanded more immediate action from the people to save the country. 51. KD, September 21, 1904.

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traveled without legitimate explanation, some told the police that they had come to Seoul to resolve their family (munjung) affairs, while others had come to resolve the affairs of Christian churches. But most of the rest answered that they were Ilchinhoe members.52 Although the reports in the Korea Daily News were less meticulous than those from the provincial government, they still help to delineate further the national scale of the Ilchinhoe’s expansion. For example, the newspaper reported on a telegram from the Chinju magistrate of Southern Kyongsang Province sent to the Ministry of the Interior. According to the telegram, several hundred people had formed a gang (chaktang) and called their group the Ilchinhoe. They arrived in Chinju and had their hair cut all together.53 In Yonghung Prefecture, P’yongan Province, one thousand Tonghaks held an assembly. The magistrate persuaded them to disperse but worriedly anticipated their reappearance.54 In Suwon Prefecture, Kyonggi Province, the magistrate reported that fifty men with short haircuts (tanbalcha) had arrived in town by twos and threes on December 5, 1904. They posted an announcement on the gates of the town wall (songmun) that they would hold an assembly for public speeches in Chonggak Street of Seoul. These people scattered to taverns and were able to convince others to cut their hair immediately.55 In P’yongyang, P’yongan Province, in Otpatchae Pass outside P’yongyang Mountain Wall (P’yongyangsong), two thousand Chinbohoe members convened a public assembly to proclaim their four-point platform.56 In P’och’on, Kyonggi Province, five Ilchinhoe members with short hair appeared in town and asked the magistrate to send their official letter on to the government. Several hundred people then gathered at the Songyang Postal Station (songyangjom) and tried to set up an office (samuso).57 The magistrate of Haeju, Hwanghae Province, reported that four or five hundred Ilchinhoe members had conducted an assembly there.58 The expansion of the Ilchinhoe local branches occurred both from the top down and from the bottom up. The Ilchinhoe headquarters in the capital sent its members out to local areas and established its branches there,59 distributing official seals (injang) to the branch heads.60 The descriptions of the Ilchinhoe’s “arrivals” in magistrate reports may have been related to this top-down pattern.

52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

Ibid. KD, October 11, 1904. Ibid. KD, December 12, 1904. KD, December 15, 1904. KD, December 26, 1904. KD, December 29, 1904. KD, December 2, 1904. KD, December 12, 1904.

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Conversely, according to one report, a local resident had voluntarily organized people in his area and declared that his organization was the local branch of the Ilchinhoe. Chang Kyong-hwan and others in Toksan Prefecture amassed three hundred of their friends and acquaintances to establish a Chinbohoe group. They widely distributed their declarations (p’ogoso) in neighboring regions and sent an official letter (kongham) to the Ilchinhoe chairperson in the capital. Claiming that their purpose was identical with that of the Ilchinhoe, they requested that the chair recognize their organization as an Ilchinhoe branch.61 In the winter of 1904, reports of local Ilchinhoe assemblies were frequently made in conjunction with accounts of their tax resistance movement. The governor of Cholla Province sent a telegram to the Ministry of the Interior (Naebu) stating that Ilchinhoe members were increasing rapidly and causing problems with tax collection.62 The magistrate of Kwangju Prefecture also reported that Ilchinhoe members with their telltale short hair had gathered in the prefecture and made public speeches. Although the magistrate threatened action against them, the members did not withdraw and continued to prevent him from collecting taxes (suse).63 On December 22, 1904, the Korea Daily News calculated that thirteen thousand Ilchinhoe members, both in local areas and in Seoul, had their hair cut to show support for the cause. The newspaper also reported that they had collected and stored enough food and grain to feed themselves for four months.64 The Ilchinhoe bought a printing press and began publishing their own journal (Ilchinhoe hoebo) in January 1905. Although the Korea Daily News suspected that an important source of Ilchinhoe funding was the Japanese, it also mentioned other internal and external sources for financial support to the group. For instance, one Chinese gentleman (ch’ongguk sinsa) helped the group move into a two-story Western-style house (yangok) in front of the Taean Palace Gate (Taeanmun). The gentleman asked a Qing merchant, the owner of the house, to waive the 40,000 won monthly rent in support of the Ilchinhoe.65 And the father of an Ilchinhoe member in Hoengsong sold his land and went to Seoul with 2,500 yang and a set of new clothes for his son, who had spent all his money on living expenses in the capital. Unfortunately, he was robbed at a tavern in Yanggun and in the end was unable to support his son in his Ilchinhoe activities.66

61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

KD, December 13, 1904. KD, December 12, 14, and 15, 1904. KD, December 21, 1904. KD, December 22, 1904. KD, January 5, 1905. Ibid.

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Kojong’s Repression of the Ilchinhoe and the Taean Palace Gate Incident The national emergence of the Ilchinhoe was not peaceful. As noted above, the Ilchinhoe platform and the Tonghak circulars expressed that they aimed at protecting the Korean imperial house. But their statements included elements jeopardizing the ideological underpinnings of the monarchy. They argued that the country belonged not solely to the monarch but to the people as well. They also asserted that both freedom of the people and reform of the Korean government were prerequisites for Korean independence. Most important, the Ilchinhoe rejected the idea of the people as passive government subjects and encouraged broader popular political participation. Elitist reformers had originally proposed this idea but emphasized the “ignorance” of the people and their urgent need for education before their demand for rights. The Ilchinhoe claimed that the movement’s role was to represent the people rather than to educate them. Thus the movement carried its politics to the places where people lived their everyday lives, conducting its campaigns in markets, inns, and taverns, rather than in the court, in the salons of the literati, or on the battlefields. The Ilchinhoe held its first meetings in wholesale stores and established its first office in a warehouse in Chongno, the central market street in Seoul—a good indication that merchants and urban dwellers comprised the Ilchinhoe’s social base. Appealing to the interests of “the people,” the movement targeted government officials as the “predators” of those interests. It publicized the personal corruption and immoral conduct of government officials, arguing that these revelations protected people’s lives and property, a distinctive point in the Ilchinhoe platform. Although these personal attacks were not necessarily truthful, they effectively belittled the authority of government officials. Whenever the government appointed new governors or magistrates, the Ilchinhoe announced their opposition if these officials had been charged with revenue embezzlement or with murder.67 In this context, even though the Ilchinhoe’s platform included the protection of the Korean imperial house, its movement in fact challenged the authority of the Korean monarch and his officials and changed the people’s attitudes toward them. Emperor Kojong reacted quickly to the challenge of the Ilchinhoe and the Tonghaks. The memory of the 1894 rebellion and the near collapse of the monarchy weighed heavily on him. On September 20, 1904, he ordered the provincial governors and the local defense army (chinwidae) to arrest the Tonghaks and 67. IH, 1:9–10.

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2. “The policemen of Seoul and some of its civilians” (1903). The modern police system was introduced to Korea under the 1894 reformist cabinet. The Kwangmu government maintained this system and placed the police under the jurisdiction of the Home Ministry. The policemen in the photo have short hair and Western uniforms, though the civilians do not. The Korean emperor had abrogated the compulsory aspects of the haircutting decree but in 1902 ordered men in the police and the military to cut their hair. From H. W. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom, vol. 1 (London: Amalgamated Press, 1904), p. 66.

immediately execute their leaders.68 He also reproached the police and local officials for their inaction: These days, the so-called popular assemblies [minhoe] gather crowds and stir them up with false words. They appeal to the entire country and attract stupid multitudes that gather like clouds. Their slander of the government and their contempt for its high ministers have caused the situation to deteriorate to an unbearable degree. In spite of this, law enforcement has not controlled the misconduct of the assemblies and police officers have not monitored their mood. Watching this with their arms crossed, officers have not cracked down on them . . . not realizing that innocent people are being deluded because government officials have not devoted their minds to their duties. If the officials fail to change the minds of the 68. Kojong Sillok, vol. 44, 41/09/24.

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people and continue to resist my directives as before, even after I have admonished them as explicitly as this, then I will not say any more words because there are laws in the state that must be honored.69 The Korean government posted an imperial ordinance in central locations of villages and towns on September 24, 1904. The ordinance warned, “The so-called minhoe [popular assemblies] gather crowds and spread unsupported rumors. Due to their agitation and false gossip, ‘foolish and noisy crowds’ gather in the country like clouds and fog. Reviling the government and insulting the high officials, their slanders gradually penetrate the minds of people, recklessly, without respecting any boundaries.”70 The Ministry of the Interior, following this ordinance, instructed the police and local governments to bring under control popular offenses made against government laws and regulations. This ordinance targeted the Chinbohoe in local areas and the Ilchinhoe in Seoul. On October 2, 1904, a week after the ordinance was posted, Korean police stormed an inn housing Ilchinhoe members and expelled them. The police arrested the innkeeper and prohibited him from feeding Ilchinhoe members. The Ilchinhoe protested that this police expulsion caused undue hardship for the Ilchinhoe members, denying them access to food and forcing them to sleep out on the cold streets.71 When the Korean government prepared to execute captured Tonghaks in P’yongan Province, members of the Ilchinhoe visited Yun Ung-yol, the then vice commander of the Korean Military (Ch’ammobujang), and asked him not to kill the Tonghaks. The Ilchinhoe recalled that the commander’s son, Yun Ch’i-ho, had been the chair of the Independence Club and that the Tonghaks had evolved into the Chinbohoe, which was none other than the Ilchinhoe. By mentioning Yun Ch’i-ho, the Ilchinhoe evoked its connection with the Independence Club and implied that the aims of the commander’s son and of the Ilchinhoe were one and the same. The commander then replied that the repression was due to requests from the province and to the “crime” of the Tonghaks. The Tonghaks had changed the character wang (king) in the ordinance of the Korean emperor Kojong into saeng (student) on copies of the ordinance posted in the region. This had changed the meaning of the term “deceased king” (sonwang) into “master” (sonsaeng), which could then be understood to refer to the leader of the Tonghak religion. This act was interpreted as blasphemous to the monarch.72 In October 1904, the Korean government sent telegrams permitting local governments to open fire on the leaders of popular assemblies. This led to

69. 70. 71. 72.

Ibid. Kojong Sillok, vol. 44, 41/09/20. IH, 1:14–16. KD, November 19, 1904.

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casualties during Chinbohoe assemblies. The Ilchinhoe in the capital advertised the bloody repression of the Chinbohoe in contemporary Korean newspapers and denounced the violence of the government as criminal. It also posted announcements deploring the government action in the central districts of villages and towns. The Ilchinhoe even posted guards to keep the police from taking down the notices.73 The Ilchinhoe also sent letters of protest to the provincial governors responsible for the repression, writing, for example, in a letter to the governor of Northern P’yongan Province: As our association represents twenty million people [ich’onman min], we now greatly oppose and criticize this violent and tyrannical government. If it is true that you, sir, opened fire on the Chinbohoe members and killed them, you are an enemy of twenty million people who cannot live sharing the same heaven with you. We request that you reply in detail about how many you have killed, resign immediately, and face trial.74 To all the provincial governors, the Ilchinhoe sent a letter of warning in the name of the “representatives of twenty million people” (ich’onmanmin ui ch’ongdae). This letter notified them that if the governors punished the Chinbohoe, the Ilchinhoe would regard this as supporting a tyrannical government and opposing “civilized rules” (kaemyong). The Uiju magistrate Ku Wan-hui was one official who received this letter of protest requesting his immediate resignation.75 Additionally, the Ilchinhoe decided to dispatch investigators to gather information about the repression of the Chinbohoe in local areas. Yun Kil-sung and Kim Sa-sung were selected as the investigators for North P’yongan Province and dispatched accordingly.76 While the monarch repressed the Ilchinhoe, the group’s relationship with the Japanese appears to have been problematic. In November 1904, when the Ilchinhoe announced the establishment of schools for teaching Japanese (ilo hakkyo), an editorial in the Korea Daily News observed that this was likely an Ilchinhoe effort to regain Japanese support. The newspaper surmised that the Japanese had realized that supporting the Ilchinhoe was not in Japan’s best interests. The editorial claimed that the Japanese had withdrawn their protection of the group, leaving the Korean government to wipe it out.77 Other records indicate that Kojong had consulted with the Japanese army about his suppression of the Ilchinhoe and 73. 74. 75. 76. 77.

IH, vol. 1, October 30, 1904. IH, 1:26. Ibid., 1:27. IH, vol. 1, November 1 and 3, 1904. KD, November 19, 1904.

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had received their consent.78 Yun Ch’i-ho wrote on September 27, 1904, that the minister of the Japanese Legation, Hayashi Gonsuke, had in fact promised the emperor that the Japanese would contain the Ilchinhoe,79 thereby justifying Kojong’s own persecution of the group in December of that year. Yun speculated that the Japanese had provided protection to the Ilchinhoe early on in order to scare the Korean emperor and obtain certain concessions from him, such as the waste land scheme called the Nagamori Plan. Yun also defended his father, Yun Ung-yol. When, in December 1904, the government cracked down on the popular assemblies, Yun Ung-yol persuaded Kojong to abandon his instructions to use force against those people. According to Yun’s diary, the commander in chief of the Japanese military in Korea, Hasegawa Yoshimichi, had told Kojong in an audience with the monarch that “in Japan 500 unruly people had to be destroyed at one time.” Justifying Kojong’s decision, Hasegawa said, “If he had his way, he would not hesitate to use force against the people.” Yun Ch’i-ho wrote that the Japanese army had first protected the Ilchinhoe, which might not have survived early government repression, but had then advised Kojong to “butcher” its members. He criticized Hasegawa, stating, “This is what Koreans call giving disease and medicine.” 80 The Ilchinhoe anxiously tried to allay any doubts the Japanese might have had about supporting them at the time. The movement sent letters at the end of October 1904 to Hasegawa and the chief of the Japanese military police in Korea. These letters stressed that the Ilchinhoe supported the Japanese in their war against the Russians and had no intention of hindering Japanese military operations. The letters also pleaded the Ilchinchoe’s “innocence” and denied responsibility for domestic disturbances. Instead, they accused Kojong’s ordinance repressing popular assemblies (minhoe) of causing unrest and claimed that the Korean government “enjoyed” killing Ilchinhoe members. Korean officials did these things, the Ilchinhoe argued in their letters, because they were under the influence of the pro-Russia party (Rosiadang) in the government and of Russian “despotism.” 81 In the midst of this repression, the Chinbohoe strove harder to keep public opinion positive about their group. The Korea Daily News reported that the Chinbohoe in Seoul sent a message to its branch in Hamhung. The message warned its members to be vigilant against the government stirring up local disturbances in the name of the Chinbohoe. It further stated that the government recently had hired five or six hundred people to pose as Chinbohoe members. 78. 79. 80. 81.

Cho Hang-nae, Han’guk Sahoe Tanch’esa Non’go (Taegu: Hyongsol ch’ulp’ansa, 1972), p. 61. Yun Ch’iho, Yun Ch’iho Ilgi, p. 64. Ibid., pp. 61–62 and 78–80. IH, vol. 1, October 22, 1904.

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These impostors would fire into people’s houses, violently abuse innocent people, or interrupt military affairs. With these measures, the government was attempting to turn the local people against the Chinbohoe and force the organization to die away without support.82 The Ilchinhoe also made a public announcement (ilchinhoe kosi) that Ho Kyom, the cousin of Ho Wi, the high official (ch’amch’an) of the Korean government, had received several tens of thousands of won from an unidentified source and gone down to the southern provinces. The Ilchinhoe ordered its members to keep a constant watch out for his attempts to gather local “scum” (p’aeryu) to destroy local Ilchinhoe branches.83 Meanwhile, the Korea Daily News reported that the Ilchinhoe had selected 150 guards (ilchin sach’alwon) and posted them in five areas of Seoul (hansong oso). These guards would work day and night to investigate the misdeeds of Ilchinhoe members and the trouble caused by Ilchinhoe pretenders.84 The Ilchinhoe received direct reports about Chinbohoe local branches damaged by the government. The reports pointed out that the primary agents who had killed Chinbohoe members were local defense troops (chibang chinwidae).85 According to the Ilchinhoe’s official history, this government repression was the immediate reason for the official merger between the Chinbohoe and the Ilchinhoe. The president of the Chinbohoe, Yi Yong-gu, described the merger as an “unexpected” encounter of the two separate organizations, which shared the goals of “civilized rule” and “opposition to tyranny.”86 There was a slight respite from confrontation between the Ilchinhoe and the Korean monarch on December 14, 1904, when the Korean government recognized the Ilchinhoe’s right to promote its four-point platform (sadae kangnyong ui chayu konggwon). The Ilchinhoe celebrated this government concession with a special public assembly.87 But this did not actually lessen repression of the group. The Ilchinhoe protested to the Minister of the Military that the branch in Chinju had reported cruelty against its members by the local army (chibangdae). Even after the government permitted the Ilchinhoe to promote its four-point platform, it secretly ordered police and local military to cause harm to Ilchinhoe members’ life and property, according to a letter the Ilchinhoe wrote. Reports from many local areas attested that the military were continuing their brutal treatment of Ilchinhoe members despite government assurance that the group could publicize its agenda.88 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88.

KD, November 19, 1904. KD, December 29, 1904. KD, November 21, 1904. IH, November 20, 1904. IH, 1:39–40. KD, December 14, 1904. KD, December 26, 1904.

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Toward the end of 1904, the Ilchinhoe’s confrontation with the monarch culminated with a bloody incident near the palace in Seoul. The Korea Daily News first reported this incident on January 2, 1905. Two days earlier, the Ilchinhoe had sent delegates to the Royal Treasury (Kyongniwon) to submit their reform petitions. When police and soldiers blocked their way, the delegates proceeded to their office near the Taean Palace Gate, but soldiers stationed at the palace fired on them. Twelve were injured. The police ordered the Ilchinhoe to disperse, but members refused to withdraw until their four-point platform was communicated. Japanese police then arrived and arrested four Korean military officers.89 In a separate report, the newspaper conveyed further details. On December 31, 1904, the Ilchinhoe chair Yun Si-byong and the vice chair Yu Hak-chu had opened a new office on the second floor of a Western-style house in front of the Taean Palace Gate and tried to hold an assembly there. At five o’clock in the afternoon, the Imperial Guard Police (Kyongwiwon) issued an order stating that an assembly near the palace was forbidden and that the gathering must disperse immediately. Yun Si-byong refused, saying, “If we disband, this means that we do not follow the [will of the] people. Then we must be killed by their stones or cudgels. If we do not disperse, this means that we defy a royal order. Then we must be killed by royal law. Rather than be killed by the people’s stones, it would be better to die by royal law [wangpop].” Thousands of Ilchinhoe members then proceeded to hold their meeting.90 Later, the newspaper reported that seventeen Ilchinhoe members were injured at the incident and treated in Hansong Hospital.91 According to the Korea Daily News, after this incident the Ilchinhoe declared that it would carry out political reforms on its own (chahaeng chaji) without considering the government’s position. The Ilchinhoe had recommended that the government “improve its administration” (sijong kaeson), but nothing had yet been accomplished.92 In the meantime, the Korea Daily News reported multiple rumors that local Ilchinhoe members were moving up to the capital. These rumors and observations are also found in local reports from the northwestern provinces already mentioned. On January 2, 1905, the newspaper quoted an Ilchinhoe telegram from Northern Cholla announcing that tens of thousands of Ilchinhoe members were heading to the capital.93 The newspaper recounted another rumor that six thousand Ilchinhoe members were coming to Seoul—three 89. 90. 91. 92. 93.

KD, January 2, 1905. Ibid. KD, January 6, 1905. Ibid. KD, January 2, 1905.

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thousand from Kyongsang Province in the south and another three thousand from Hamgyong Province in the north.94 The Korea Daily News finally reported the arrival of the first Ilchinhoe members of local sections in Seoul on January 10, 1905. Members were described as having short hair and speaking in the dialect of Hamgyong Province. The newspaper reported that they were holding an assembly outside Independence Gate.95 At this juncture, Japanese military police declared martial law and ordered that those who wanted to organize an association of the people (paeksong ui sahoe) had to abide by certain regulations. Anyone desiring to organize a society related to political affairs needed to submit a report to the Japanese stating the group’s purpose, along with a list of its members and the address of its offices; last, the group must receive permission from the police. The report should include detailed information on members’ names, social statuses, and ages. If they wanted to assemble, they must notify officials of the place, purpose, date, and time and then wait to receive permission. Open-air public assemblies were forbidden. Assemblies that were granted permission must follow the direction of Japanese military police in attendance. The police would also censor all documents or statements published in the name of those associations before they could be distributed. If these rules were not followed, punishment would be meted out according to military law. Meanwhile, Japanese military police took over responsibility from the Korean police force for the security of Seoul and its vicinity. According to the Korea Daily News, the Japanese military police ordered that Ilchinhoe members not originally from Seoul (sigol hoewon) should disband and return home.96

Japan’s War Procurement and the Ilchinhoe during the Russo-Japanese War Japan’s position toward the Ilchinhoe varied according to conditions both in the countryside and in the capital. To achieve victory in the Russo-Japanese War, it was thought crucial that the Japanese military occupy the Korean Peninsula and stabilize the war supply lines there. To guarantee this, Japan forced the Korean government to sign a protocol on February 23, 1904, allowing Japan to garrison troops on Korean territory when circumstances required.97 Although it is true 94. KD, January 6, 1905. 95. KD, January 10, 1905. 96. KD, January 12, 1905. 97. James Wilford Garner, “Record of Political Events,” Political Science Quarterly 19, no. 2 (June 1904): 332–333. The protocol also included an article allowing Japan to force the Korean gov-

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3. “Japanese troops in possession of a Korean temple [sic] at Sunan, using it as a stable” (1904). The Japanese military occupied local government halls and other public facilities when passing through the northern region of Korea. The building in the photo appears to be not a temple but a local government hall. From H. W. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom, vol. 1 (London: Amalgamated Press, 1904), p. 360.

that the Ilchinhoe loyally assisted Japan during the war, it was primarily the Korean government that took charge of procurement for the Japanese army, ordering governors and magistrates to provide land for military facilities and food and labor for the Japanese military.98 The Korean government’s war assistance had been assured even before it signed the protocol. On February 14, 1904, the vice commander of the Korean military (yukkun ch’amjang), Yi Chi-yong, ordered the provincial governors to offer accommodations and provisions to Japanese troops when they passed through local areas. Japan was careful to cultivate Korean support and sympathy at the beginning of the war. For instance, Ikuta Tosaku, the Japanese commander of the Logistic Troops, gave 300 yen (won) to the Sonch’on magistrate to compensate Korean ernment to accept Japan’s “advice” for “improving” the government and to be involved in Korean domestic politics. 98. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom, p. 308. “There was propaganda that a host of ‘Korean coolies’ were engaged by the Japanese at a wage rate that was fabulously high for the Far East. These Koreans were capable of carrying with ease 150 pounds of weight upon their backs on a long day’s march.”

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victims of Russian troops.99 The Japanese military also offered compensation for its requisition of war supplies from the Korean people, issuing military checks to pay for Korean supplies.100 The minister of the Japanese Legation, Hayashi Gonsuke, promised in public that the Japanese would process their military checks as quickly as possible, requesting that the Korean prime minister confirm this promise to local officials.101 These efforts were in contrast to the plunder and massacres perpetrated by Russian soldiers, including Cossacks, in villages along the northern borders during their withdrawal from Korean territory.102 Because P’yongan Province was the thoroughfare to and from the battlefields of Manchuria, the people in that province were most harshly mobilized for railway construction and procurement for the Japanese army. Despite Japan’s reimbursement policy, local complaints flooded into the Korean government after Japanese troops occupied local government halls and collected resources in the province. The Korean central government suppressed these complaints. The foreign minister, Yi Ha-yong, reprimanded local officials and repeated Japanese promises of compensation.103 Having been constrained by the central government, the P’yongan provincial governor, Yi Chung-ha, fell in line and wrote positive estimations of the local situation wherever Japanese armies were stationed. He reported that supplies had been well remunerated and that the only problems were from miscellaneous damage to farming fields due to the movement of troops and piles of military grain.104 The governor listed the following areas where Japanese troops were stationed in mid-June 1904: P’yongyang, Sunan, Sukch’on, Anju, Kangso, Unsan, Sunch’on, and Kaech’on. The troops occupied local government halls and offices, the barracks of the local defense army (chinwidae), and buildings for military officers (changgyoch’ong) in these prefectures. Japanese troops also took over the telegram companies (chonbosa) in P’yongyang and Anju.105 Despite its optimistic tone, Yi’s report reveals that the Japanese military practically occupied the entire province. Uiju magistrate Ku Wan-hui reported in May 1904 that the people in his district were experiencing hardships in satisfying the ceaseless demands of the Japanese troops. Ku continued his administrative duties in a borrowed private house within the western gate of the town be-

99. KSTN, 36:247–248. 100. The exchange rate of the check was 1 won to 89 sen in Japanese bills. Japan designated the Logistic Command of the Japanese army and Daiichi Bank branches as exchange institutions for handling the military checks of Korean suppliers. 101. KSTN, 36:234–235. 102. Ibid., 40:6–9, 12–13. 103. Ibid., 36:236, 259. 104. Ibid., 36:236–237. 105. Ibid., 36:237.

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4. “Korean coolies waiting for work” (1904). Transporting procurements to the battleground was crucial during the Russo-Japanese War. The Japanese military asked the Korean government to recruit porters to deliver food, clothing, and other supplies to the Japanese soldiers. The Korean government had a hard time satisfying Japan’s demands for Korean workers. From H. W. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom, vol. 1 (London: Amalgamated Press, 1904), p. 297.

cause the Japanese had confiscated his office.106 He wrote that the barracks of the local defense army had been turned into a military hospital for injured soldiers and that the troops of the medical corps (wisaengdae) occupied the hall for the magistrate. The Japanese Logistic Command was stationed in the hall of the local elite associations (hyangch’ong). Ku wrote that the burden of providing war supplies had forced the farmers who lived within 30 or 40 li107 of the town of Uiju to leave their fields. He also complained that some translators and porters (mokkun) employed for the Japanese troops had taken advantage of this opportunity to obtain cows and horses at cheap prices for themselves, on the pretext that they were to be used to supply the military. As petitions of area residents continued to flood in, Ku dispatched police officers as needed and forbade dishonest intermediaries from adding to the burdens of the people.108 The Japanese military actually increased its demand for Korean labor and war supplies even when the major battlefields moved beyond Korean territory. The heads of local elite associations reported on June 17, 1904, that Tasaka Sadatomi, 106. Ibid., 36:246–247. 107. Land measurement; 1 li is equal to 0.25 miles. 108. KSTN, 36:245.

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5. “Coolies en route to P’ypngyang—A portion of 5,000 ‘coolies’ in line” (1904). The Korean porters in the photo stand by A-frame shacks (chige) on the roadside. The large number of porters shows the size of the mobilization of workers for Japanese procurement in Korea. From H. W. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom, vol. 1 (London: Amalgamated Press, 1904), p. 301.

the captain of the Japanese infantry stationed in Changdiàn, China, was demanding seven hundred porters per day. Ku Wan-hui went to Changdiàn to meet the captain. The captain informed him that the war provisions shipped from Yongamp’o to Chagdiàn amounted to more than ten thousand cloth bags a day, with another five or six thousand bags per day that needed to be transported from Chagdiàn to Xiongdiàndi. Tasaka explained that the Japanese armies desperately needed porters for these supplies. Because it was farming season, Ku had enormous difficulty in satisfying this demand. Ku distributed the burden over three counties and ordered the chief administrators of the local elite associations (chipkang) to mobilize the people. Ku had local county heads select the most reliable supervisors (tosipchang, togomdok) among the porters and sent their names to the Japanese Command.109 Not just Ku but many local officials found it difficult to meet the Japanese military’s increasing demand for Korean porters. In July 1904, the Logistic Command of the Japanese army asked the Chongju magistrate to send a thousand workers to Fengtien to carry military provisions to the front. The magistrate drafted 223 workers and twenty-seven horses and cows and sent them on July 12. He dispatched an additional 312 porters and carriages on July 20. Despite this

109. Ibid., 36:266.

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support, the Japanese command called for the local heads (myonim, yiim, or tumin) in the area to investigate the number of households, the size of the population, the scale of the fields and paddies, the amount of annual harvests, and the number of livestock. This aroused great anxiety in the province.110 The Japanese military turned also to the Ilchinhoe and asked their assistance in supplying Japanese combat troops. The commander of the Japanese military in Korea, Hasegawa, met Yi Yong-gu and Song Pyong-jun on June 10, 1905, and made a secret agreement with them to organize an Ilchinhoe supply regiment for the Japanese army in the northern frontier (Ilchinhoe pukchin susongdae).111 Yi Yong-gu went to North and South Hamgyong provinces in the northeastern part of the Korean Peninsula and mobilized Ilchinhoe branches there. He was accompanied by Yun Kap-pyong, Han Chong-gyu, Han Kyong-won, and Ch’oe Un-sop and had a secret meeting with a staff officer called Kurada, who was affiliated with the Japanese army stationed in Kangdok. They decided that the Ilchinhoe would take charge of spying on the Russian army and in addition would mobilize several thousands of its members to deliver urgent military provisions to the Japanese troops. Yi Yong-gu ordered the Ilchinhoe leaders in the provinces to send two to thirty thousand members to the Ilchinhoe office in Kyongsong at the northeastern end of the Korean Peninsula.112 Yi Yong-gu reported to Kurada, on the staff of the Japanese army, that he would organize two supply regiment units of one thousand Ilchinhoe members each.113 In July, Kuroda pressed Yi to send five hundred members immediately because supplies on the front line were dangerously low. The next day Yi found that almost five hundred members had arrived. He organized them and appointed Ko Tong-hwan commander of the regiment, following the orders of the Japanese army. Yi selected a leader for each group of ten (sipchang) and a higher leader for the unit of fifty members (osipchang). Yi also appointed two members as officers for provisions (hyangmuwon).114 The total number of members participating in the Ilchinhoe supply regiment between June 10 and October 20, 1905, was 114,500 people, and their total expenses were 197,760 won. The Japanese paid 63,530 won for their wages (kogum yongsuaek), and the Ilchinhoe took responsibility for the remainder of the cost. Forty-nine Ilchinhoe members were killed or injured while carry ing out their duties in supplying the regiments.115 110. In his diary, Yun Ch’i-ho also recorded provincial resentment about the Japanese demands on the people. Yun Ch’iho, Yun Ch’iho Ilgi, pp. 53–54. 111. IH, 2:123–165. 112. Ibid., 2:128–129. 113. Ibid., 2:129. 114. Ibid., 2:130, 147, 156, 157, 158, and 159–160. 115. Ibid., 2:161–165.

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As Yi traveled Hamgyong Province with the regiment, he opened public assemblies in many areas and pressed Ilchinhoe members to speak on issues such as the Ilchinhoe’s four-point platform, the “obligation” of the people to assist the Japanese army, the education of the people, current political conditions, and commercial development (sangop paltal). Yi also investigated local tax administration and advocated tax resistance in some areas. In Songjin, Yi called on the prefectural head of the local association (hyangjang), Ho Ch’ang, and made inquiries about excessive tax collection in his prefecture. When the local head apologized for collecting miscellaneous taxes and promised to abolish them, Yi ordered the head of the Ilchinhoe branch, Kim Ch’ol-jun, to announce this in public. While the Ilchinhoe sacrificed its members for the Japanese army and preached that the Korean people had an “obligation” to assist Japan, the harsh war procurement demands resulted in anti-Japanese protests in the northern provinces. Railway construction particularly infuriated local residents, as it was accompanied by land confiscation as well as labor conscription. Local residents expressed their outrage by destroying the railways and cutting telegraph wires. The Japanese military responded with a strict policy to “execute anyone who damaged Japan’s war efforts.” There were frequent reports that the Japanese had arrested and killed Koreans who had cut telegraph wires between Seoul and Wonsan. Yun Ch’i-ho wrote, “In the Southern Provinces, through which the Fusan [sic] Railroad runs, the Japanese are treating Koreans pretty much as whites treated Indians in America years ago and still treat blacks in Africa at present. The Japanese nominally buy, but in practice steal, fields, forests, and houses of Koreans. If any resist their sweet will, they kick, beat, and sometimes kill Koreans like dogs.”116 Japanese soldiers, even though they were on the whole well restrained, did commit some serious offenses. For instance, when twenty thousand Japanese soldiers occupied government offices in June 1904, they destroyed the tables and ritual wooden dishes in the offices and used them for firewood. There were also incidents of murder and rape by Japanese soldiers.117 In October 1904, a Japanese soldier named Toyohara Tetsuji fatally struck a Korean who had been mobilized for railway construction. When the Chongju magistrate requested, after investigating the incident, that the Japanese army arrest Toyohara, there was no response.118 As the Japanese army and its massive war procurement machine swept through the province, it altered local sentiment and led to increased Korean assaults on Japanese military facilities throughout the province.119 The 116. 117. 118. 119.

Yun Ch’i-ho, Yun Ch’iho Ilgi, p. 31. KSTN, 36:260. Ibid., 36:373. Ibid., 36:366, 371–373.

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Ilchinhoe would face this social backlash against Japan’s war in Korea and the Ilchinhoe’s own service in the war.

Korean and Japanese Responses to the Ilchinhoe’s Emergence The Ilchinhoe established a national presence during the Japanese military occupation of the Korean Peninsula, opening a political space for anti–status quo forces in Korea. The Ilchinhoe’s forceful campaigns and impious language enraged the Korean monarch, compelling him to retaliate against their challenge to his authority. This led to bloody confrontations between Ilchinhoe members and Kojong’s troops, which escalated into a large-scale demonstration near the Palace Gate at the end of 1904. The Japanese army feared that the feverish popular participation in the Ilchinhoe movement and its clash with the Korean government would endanger Japan’s own war plan on the Korean Peninsula. Thus after the Palace Gate demonstration, the Japanese army abruptly proclaimed martial law in January 1905, prohibiting free assemblies and censoring all publications by Korean political associations.120 The army also replaced the Korean police with a Japanese gendarmerie to handle the security of Seoul and its vicinity. This moment reveals that the Ilchinhoe’s initial rallies constituted the pretext for Japan’s rule in Korea to begin with a military government. After martial law was declared, nationalist editorials in the Korea Daily News called the Ilchinhoe “slaves” (nobok) of the Japanese. The newspaper denigrated the Ilchinhoe movement, calling it a “trick” on the part of Japan to introduce repressive laws and forestall Korean opposition to Japanese colonization. Thus the Ilchinhoe movement coincided with the emergence of a more exclusive Korean nationalism in whose eyes the Ilchinhoe members were “traitors.” The Ilchinhoe’s relationship with the Japanese during the Russo-Japanese War was more complicated than has been understood in the past. While waging the war, Japan relied heavily on the Korean government for procurement and was therefore interested in its stability. Despite its steadfast pro-Japanese position, the Ilchinhoe could not easily secure the protection of the Japanese. When Japan’s needs increased in the spring of 1905, the Japanese military looked to Ilchinhoe members to act as porters and spies for Japanese soldiers on the frontier. This war support offered the Ilchinhoe relief from the persecution of the Korean government. In the long run, the Ilchinhoe could not escape repercussions from 120. KD, January 12, 1905.

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the popular backlash against Japan’s drastic war procurements and its military occupation of Korean territory. During this stage of initial success, however, the Ilchinhoe did not yet recognize the potential conflicts between their domestic goals and their collaboration with the Japanese. When the Ilchinhoe launched a massive tax-resistance movement, these tensions and contradictions would loom all the larger.

4 FREEDOM AND THE NEW LOOK The Culture and Rhetoric of the Ilchinhoe Movement

In February 1905, Yi Min-hwa, a major in the Wonju defense army, was called into the military court of Wonju for a face-to-face examination with sixty members of the Ilchinhoe. The major had filed a case against the organization, charging that it had violated Korean imperial authority at one of its assemblies. He had dispatched two divisions of soldiers in civilian clothes to the assembly to observe the proceedings. The soldiers had reported that an Ilchinhoe member had included in his speech to the assembly the statement that “both His Great Imperial Majesty and the Ilchinhoe members are all subjects of the state, and equally possess the right of freedom” (kungnok chisin un ilbaniyo chayukwon to ilbanira). The major later summoned the chair of the Ilchinhoe assembly, the suspected speaker of these words, and asked how he could dare say that the emperor was a subject of the state (kungnok chisin). Because the Ilchinhoe chair acknowledged his “crime,” the major had filed the case in the court with the “proof” (chunggop’yo) that the chair had confessed, along with the sealed testimony of Chang Won-il, a soldier who had attended the meeting. The major wrote that he had correctly followed all the legal procedures for filing this case with the provincial court. To counter this testimony, the Ilchinhoe headquarters in Seoul dispatched a member named Chon Song-hwan to Wonju, where he pleaded that the account of the speech had been mistaken. According to Chon, the chairman had actually told the crowd, “We [the Ilchinhoe members] are also the subjects of His Great Majesty,” but the major had “perverted” this remark, changing it into “His Majesty is also a subject [of the state].” Chon added that the court could not take the 117

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6. “The British, American, French, German, and Italian correspondents being presented by Mr. Frederick Villiers to the Korean emperor” (1904). The British war artist Frederick Villiers (1851–1922) covered the campaigns of the RussoJapanese War. The Korean emperor Kojong and crown prince Sunjong are shown here meeting other Western correspondents. The emperor, the prince, and the Korean official in attendance wear white robes, probably in mourning for the death of the crown princess (posthumously named the empress Sunmypnghyo). From H. W. Wilson, Japan’s Fight for Freedom, vol. 2 (London: Amalgamated Press, 1905), p. 638.

testimonies of the Wonju defense army as evidence because the Ilchinhoe chair had been surrounded by armed soldiers and forced to confess, and the soldiers had then not been in a position to speak against the case.1 This legal episode reveals that offending the monarch’s sovereignty was criminal in early 1905. Toward the end of the protectorate period, however, the Korea Daily News published an article calling for the “people’s government” (inmin ui chogbu), and the Imperial Gazetteer (Hwangsong sinmun) praised the ideas contained in Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Social Contract as “profound.” The Korean elite reformers had departed from their commitment to the constitutional monarchy since the late nineteenth century and aspired to a republic. This ideological transition was 1. KD, February 16, 1905. The Ilchinhoe’s counterargument had not been admitted by April 1905, according to the Ilchinhoe’s advertisement in Hwangsong sinmun (Imperial gazetteer, hereafter IG), April 15, 1905.

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signaled in the Ilchinhoe’s Wonju case in 1905, and in both the “fear” and the “audacity” of the Ilchinhoe members in violating the regency of the Korean emperor. The Ilchinhoe initiated this ideological transition by evoking the term min’gwon (the rights of the people) and mobilizing popular actions for it. The Korean print media acknowledged this initiative by nicknaming the Ilchinhoe the “People’s Rights Party” (Minkwondang). The term min’gwon was not the Ilchinhoe’s invention but had been introduced to the public by the Independent. The Ilchinhoe reclaimed the legacy of the Independence Club, portraying itself as the Club’s “legitimate heir.”2 The Ilchinhoe’s opening manifesto reproduced democratic phrases from essays printed in the Independent. Yet the Ilchinhoe’s rhetoric changed over time as the group adjusted its stated goals to a defense of Japanese domination of Korea. Throughout this “adjustment,” the Ilchinhoe held onto the idea of minkwon and supported Japan’s annexation of Korea by alluding to the fulfillment of “the people’s rights and welfare” within a political entity other than the nation—namely, that of empire. The 1905 Wonju case also reveals a key feature of the Ilchinhoe’s discourse: the inconsistency between its formal language and the words of its members spoken at the moments of their practice. Ilchinhoe members in many cases explicitly questioned the sanctity of the monarch’s authority and asserted the people’s rights and freedom, yet the group’s official statements were ambiguous, circumventing political hazards and risks. The Ilchinhoe’s formal statements were neither explicitly “treacherous” nor “antagonistic” to the Korean monarchy. They occasionally included the idioms of “independence, patriotism, and sovereignty” found in the writings of Korean elite reformers leading the Patriotic Enlightenment Movement during the protectorate period. Some scholars have taken these words in the Ilchinhoe’s statements at face value and have called the group a nationalist one whose ultimate objective was the construction of a nation-state. Others have dismissed the Ilchinhoe’s reformist rhetoric as “deceptive,” a mere rationalization of its subservience to the Japanese. This chapter reviews the Ilchinhoe’s major public statements and examines the movement’s distinctive positions on the issues of the monarchy’s reform, sovereignty, and its collaboration with the Japanese. The Ilchinhoe’s politics exhibited a populist orientation, especially when its statements are understood in conjunction with the actions of local Ilchinhoe members. The Ilchinhoe also proposed a new culture of “enlightened people,” targeted at nullifying the symbolic order that the attire and rituals of monarchy represented. 2. Yumi Moon, “The Populist Contest: The Ilchinhoe Movement and the Japanese Colonization of Korea, 1896–1910,” PhD diss., Harvard University, 2005, p. 52.

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The Ilchinhoe’s cultural practice, especially its collective haircutting ceremonies, provoked visual sensations among Koreans, but its messages became increasingly mixed and equivocal in the changing power relations of protectorate Korea. Korean sentiment toward the Ilchinhoe, especially as seen through the media of elite reformers, turned sour, cynical, and livid. Korean officials and elite reformers debated with Ilchinhoe members over their new look and their advocacy for the people’s rights. Through these debates, elite reformers reclaimed one of the Independence Club’s original premises, which deemed popular rights the “essential means” for strengthening the nation. In the elite media’s representation, the Ilchinhoe were soon competing for the mantle of the People’s Rights Party with the elite reformers’ organizations, the Great Korean Association of Self-Strengthening (Taehan Chaganghoe) and, later, the Association of Great Korea (Taehan Hyophoe). Those debates over popular rights redirected Korean reformers away from their tacit agreement to a constitutional monarchy and toward the vision of a republic. The French historian Lynn Hunt has written that “revolutionary political culture cannot be deduced from social structures, social conflicts, or the social identity of ‘underlying’ economic and social interests. Through their language, images, and daily political activities, revolutionaries worked to reconstitute society and social relations.”3 This assertion leads to the question of what impact the Ilchinhoe’s culture and discourse had on the monarchy’s social and cultural establishments and what kinds of social relations they in fact triggered. Just as the Ilchinhoe headquarters denied the Wonju branch chair’s statement that the people were of equal status with the monarch, so they never opposed Japan’s domination of Korea. Perhaps Yi Yong-gu, the leader of the Ilchinhoe local members, was dispirited from his earlier defeat, in the Tonghak Rebellion, and could not bear another full-scale revolution against the monarchy or a bloody conflict with the Japanese, whose overwhelming military force he considered vital to protect the group from the monarchy’s persecution. The Ilchinhoe thus carried on its experiments within a narrow space, restrained from both the Korean and the Japanese side. This does not mean that the Ilchinhoe’s political and cultural practices were abortive. On the contrary, they were soon accepted among Koreans, without being attached to their initiators, the Ilchinhoe members, but associated with the general notion of reform and progress. Thus the initial anxiety and repulsion that the Ilchinhoe’s culture and rhetoric aroused in the society have been forgotten in the history of modern Korea. This chapter explores the Ilchinhoe’s rhetoric and cultural experiments, 3. Lynn Hunt, Politics, Culture, and Class in the French Revolution (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), p. 12.

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and the mixed social responses that they elicited. After outlining the Ilchinhoe’s politics of the new look, it analyzes the Ilchinhoe’s public statements following the critical turning points of protectorate rule: the founding of the Ilchinhoe organization, the announcement of the 1905 protectorate treaty, the abdication of the Korean emperor in 1907, and the 1909 Ilchinhoe petitions for Japan’s annexation of Korea. It then discusses the Ilchinhoe’s ideas in their interactions with the discourse of other elite reformers in protectorate Korea.

Seeking the Authority of the New Look: Haircutting Ceremonies As recounted in Chapter 3, the Ilchinhoe held its first haircutting ceremony4 on September 16, 1904.5 This symbolic ceremony evoked the memory of the haircut decree enforced in December 1895. The 1895 mandate, abruptly announced after the Japanese murder of Queen Min, had caused guerrilla armies to react violently against the Kabo reformist cabinet. The leaders of the guerrilla armies thought that the mandatory haircuts ran roughshod over their Confucian value of filial piety, which eschewed ever altering the body, hair, and skin received from their parents. Many Koreans attributed the source of the 1895 haircutting decree to Japan, which had tightened its control over the Korean cabinet at the time. Even reformers who welcomed the convenience of short hair disliked the fact that “Japan made the decree compulsory.”6 The haircutting decree boosted the demand for Western-style hats and other clothing and benefited Japanese merchants in Korea who traded in those goods. This reinforced Korean suspicion that Japan had imposed the decree for such economic benefits.7 Against this background, the Ilchinhoe’s collective haircutting was taken not just as a support to reform but also as a sign of its close relationship with Japan. The Ilchinhoe’s new look and short hair soon prompted a debate with the prime minister of the Korean government, Sin Ki-son. When three Ilchinhoe representatives, Yang Chae-ik, Kim Kyu-ch’ang, and Chon Tae-yun, visited the prime minister in September 1904, they had already cut their hair, although they

4. The haircutting ceremony may have left a strong cultural legacy in the modern political culture of Korea. When Koreans make a critical decision, personal or collective, they sometimes shave their hair to show their determination. In the historical memory of modern Koreans, the origin of this ceremony has been forgotten, yet the meaning of haircutting to show political determination has not been erased. 5. IH, 1:7–8. 6. Yun Ch’i-ho, Yun Chi’ho Ilgi, vol. 4, p. 106, quoted in Yi Min-won, “Sangt’u wa Tanballyong,” Sahakchi.31 (December 1998): 280. 7. Yi Min-won, “Sangt’u wa Tanballyong,” pp. 286–287.

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kept traditional Korean dress. When Sin asked about their “improper” appearance, Yang responded that short hair helped them be hygienic. The minister reminded them of the imperial ordinance that permitted haircuts only to men in the police and the military. He asked whether it was proper for people to cut their hair at will and wear hats other than those determined in the national regulations (kukche anin kwanip). The Ilchinhoe members called the minister’s attention to the king’s modification of the haircutting decree. When the people had violently resisted the 1895 decree, the monarch Kojong had announced an ordinance in 1896 that had ended the enforcement of haircuts. The Ilchinhoe members interpreted this not as outlawing haircutting itself but as merely rectifying its “coercive” implementation. Apparently uncomfortable with the Ilchinhoe’s hairstyle for the official visits, Sin asked how urgent the haircutting was for the preservation of the nation (kungmin), if the Ilchinhoe were really serious about that cause. The Ilchinhoe members then offered more serious reasons, stating that haircutting was not simply for bodily convenience but their hopeful attempt to develop an “enlightened” custom (kaemyong ji sok) in Korea. They wanted to form a “league of short haircuts” (tanbaldongmaeng) devoted to “preserving the nation and to making it progress with a united heart.” If the people really want to recommend that officials reform the government, the Ilchinhoe members insisted, they themselves should start by cutting their hair.8 Several years before this debate with the Ilchinhoe, Sin himself had led the controversy with the Independence Club over the haircut decree and reform policies of the 1894 cabinet. As the then-minister of education, he had submitted a memorial to the monarch arguing that wearing Western suits and having short hair turned “civilized people” into “barbarians.” The Independent reported that Sin also opposed the use of the Korean alphabet invented by King Sejong, warning that it would degrade humans into “beasts.” He considered policies to “liberate the people” (inmin ul chayu k’e)9 to be attempts to deprive the king of his sovereignty (kunkwon). The Independent charged that Sin’s remarks represented only his contempt of the people (inmin ul ch’ondae) rather than his loyalty to the king.10 The Independent assumed that haircuts and Western suits were not fundamental but useful means toward enlightenment, comparing them to “putting in new wallpaper and carpets after fixing the house.” The Independent advised that the government leave people to decide about their own hair, though allow-

8. IH, 1:10–12. 9. The meaning is not clear here. It may refer to the abolition of the social hierarchy or just to giving the people general freedom of action. 10. ID, June 4, 1896, p. 2.

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ing that short hair might be most practical for the police and the military.11 But as minister of education, Sin prohibited students from wearing Western uniforms and having short hair. The Independent disapproved of this, arguing that the 1896 imperial ordinance meant to let the people decide on their haircuts according to their wishes and convenience (chongp’yon wiji).12 The Independent encouraged haircutting by positively reporting several cases of students and soldiers who had cut their hair for convenience.13 But the newspaper noted the conservative atmosphere after Kojong’s flight to the Russian Legation, reporting that the people were delighted with the ordinance repealing the compulsory haircuts,14 and that some military officers wished they had waited one more day (until the announcement of the ordinance) so that they could have avoided the “shame” of having short hair.15 After the dissolution of the Independence Club in 1899, the Imperial Gazetteer printed a few reports on haircuts, including the case of a higher military officer who had grown his hair again and wore his traditional cap,16 or simply delivering the decisions of the Qing court prohibiting students abroad from wearing Western suits and short hair.17 One Imperial Gazetteer report in December 1902 reveals that Western suits and short hair were still not conventional but seen as strange and “unpatriotic” in local areas. According to the report, an officer who had graduated from the military academy had stayed a night in a local inn on his way back home. A dozen constables and peddlers arrested and battered the officer, calling him a “person [who followed] the Japanese enlightenment” (oe kaehwa in). The officer barely escaped and had appealed to the district magistrate.18 In such an atmosphere, the Ilchinhoe resumed their practice of haircutting. The Ilchinhoe combined haircutting ceremonies with public speeches on reform, a formula that was widely repeated in the inaugural assemblies of its local branches. These collective ceremonies were unprecedented in scale and were identified with the Ilchinhoe movement.19 The Ilchinhoe calculated that its members performed haircutting ceremonies20 throughout the country.21 The Korea Daily News reported on December 24, 1904, that thirteen thousand members of the

11. ID, May 26, 1896, p. 1. 12. ID, June 6, 1896, p. 1. 13. ID, June 13, 1896, p. 2; ID, June 16, 1896, p. 2. 14. ID, December 26, 1896, p. 1. 15. ID, October 24, 1898, p. 4. 16. IG, April 5, 1899, p. 2. 17. IG, June 16, 1902, p. 1. 18. IG, December 2, 1902, p. 2. 19. Korea Daily News includes many articles on the Ilchinhoe’s haircuts. For the social responses to the group’s initial haircutting ceremonies, see the reports in September and October 1904. 20. They claimed that the ceremonies were conducted in 360 prefectures. 21. IH, 1:16.

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Ilchinhoe, both in local areas and in Seoul, had cut their hair to express their dedication to the movement.22 Koreans at the time called the Ilchinhoe “the haircut association” (tanbalhoe).23 Magistrates and governors carefully monitored the movements of these “haircuts” (tanbalcha) in the regions under their jurisdiction. It is unclear when converted Tonghaks decided to take up collective haircutting. Korean officials in the northern provinces, as mentioned in Chapter 3, observed that the Tonghaks had begun their haircutting in October 1904. An official history of the Chondogyo, the new organization of the Tonghak religion founded after 1906, suggests that Son P’yong-hui, the Chondogyo patriarch, decided on the practice in order to show the reformist commitment of the Tonghaks and reduce social prejudice against them. The History of Our Religion claims that approximately 160,000 Tonghaks had already cut their hair on October 9, 1904:24 “Because a haircut is good for hygiene and convenient for working, everyone who has a purpose cannot help but cut his hair. Moreover, if we believers do not cut our hair, then we are unable to prove our faithfulness and obtain unprejudiced recognition from the people in the world. We should have our hair cut,” said Songsa [the Holy Teacher]. On September 1 of that year, the believers who cut their hair were 150,000 to 160,000 people.25 In comparison, the Korean historian Cho Hang-nae argues that Song Pyongjun, a suspected liaison between the Ilchinhoe and the Japanese military, demanded that the Tonghak cut their hair. Cho attributes the primary motive of the Chinbohoe’s merger with the Ilchinhoe in the capital to the Tonghak’s anxiety over their security after Kojong ordered the persecution of the popular assemblies in late September 1904. According to Cho’s speculation, Song Pyongjun manipulated Yi Yong-gu, the Tonghak leader, to dissolve the Chinbohoe into the Ilchinhoe organization. Song also recommended that Yi allay the suspicions of the Japanese military about the Tonghak and demonstrate that they no longer opposed Japan. As an answer to this remark, Yi blamed Emperor Kojong for be-

22. KD, December 24, 1904. 23. KD, December 19, 1904. 24. I assume that this date in The History of Our Religion is based on the lunar calendar. If so, the first day of September corresponded to October 9, 1904. 25. “Pongyo Yoksa,” in Choe, Ki-yong and Pak, Maengsin, eds., Hanmal Ch’ondogyo Charyojip (Seoul: Kukhak Charyowon, 1997), p. 276.

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ing the source of the conflicts between Japan and the Tonghak and asked Song to save the lives of one million Tonghak followers. Yi said: I think that the Kabo year’s affair [i.e., the Tonghak Rebellion] was not [due to the fact] that the Tonghak resisted Japan. The truth was that the Japanese troops oppressed the Tonghak. Or, it might not have been the case that the Japanese troops opposed the Tonghak, but that the royal court desired that the Tonghak followers perish. Now it is a matter of our life and death. I want to support the general circumstances because I need to care for one million followers. . . . I only hope that you, for the sake of the lives of one million people, take this into consideration and use your good offices.26 Song promised to answer Yi’s request by their next meeting, yet he made no further statement. Yi sent messengers to meet with Song again. At their second meeting Song demanded of Yi that the Tonghak cut their hair as an expression of their loyalty to Japan and stated: The customs that have come down to us in our country make the cutting of our hair the equivalent of cutting our necks. You must make your one million followers cut their hair all at once. Only after you replace the oath of blood with cutting your hair will your lives be protected and your religion established.27 Cho quoted this excerpt from The History of Sich’ongyo (Sich’on’gyo Chongyoksa) to stress that it had been Song Pyong-jun and Japan’s demand, rather than the Tonghak’s initiative, that instigated the collective haircutting ceremonies.28 Cho’s narrative differentiates the Tonghak converts from the Ilchinhoe movement itself, which he regards as a complete puppet organization. However, Tonghak circulars published in mid-September 1904 already declared a proreform and pro-Japanese position and echoed the Ilchinhoe’s four-point platform. Thus it is misleading to divide the direction of the Tonghak converts from the Ilchinhoe before the Chondogyo separated itself in 1906 from the Ilchinhoe.29 26. Pak Chong-dong, ed., Sich’ongyo Chongyoksa (Seoul: Sinch’ongyo Ponbu, 1915), vol. 3, chapter 6, quoted in Cho Hang-nae, Han’guk Sahoe Tanch’esa Non’go (Taegu: Hyongsol ch’ulp’ansa, 1972), p. 61. 27. Cho Hang-nae, Han’guk Sahoe Tanch’esa Non’go, p. 61. 28. I have not been able to determine when this dialogue between Song Pyong-jun and Yi Yonggu took place. They must have met, if ever, toward the end of September 1904, before the Chinbohoe commenced its haircutting ceremonies on a large scale and after the Korean monarch ordered the persecution of the Chinbohoe in late September 1904. 29. It is important to ask whether and how Japan conducted a secret “intelligence” operation of the Ilchinhoe and the Tonghak. The existence of a Japanese conspiracy is nevertheless a separate issue from identifying the agendas and characteristics of the Ilchinhoe movement.

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From a different viewpoint, the Confucian scholar Hwang Hyon suspected at the time that Yun Si-byong, a former member of the Independence Club, had lured the Ilchinhoe members into taking a pro-Japanese direction and having their hair cut. Referring to reformist elites, Hwang wrote in August 1904 that members of the Enlightenment School (kaehwadang), scared of their isolation, had sought Japan’s support and volunteered to cut their hair. In exchange for this, the Japanese had funded the Ilchinhoe and designated the movement the site of “the headquarters for the great Korean political reform.”30 Hwang’s remark exposes the contemporary perception of the Ilchinhoe in its immediate connection to the Enlightenment Party. No matter who had initiated the decision about cutting hair, Tonghak converts were ideologically prepared for collective haircutting in public, even if this meant a symbolic statement of their proJapanese position. Yi Yong-gu, the leader of the Chinbohoe, explained the merger with the Ilchinhoe as follows, echoing the Ilchinhoe’s own statements: The whole front of Asia is one society of the East, and the peninsula on its side is also one society of Great Korea. After there is a society, there is a state. After there is a state, a government exists. After there is a government, hundreds of industries and fortunes develop. Hence those above and those below are in accord, and protect their territory and their inhabitants. It is said that people are born with naturally endowed rights and cooperate in carry ing out their obligations. States are built on people’s harmony and collective associations, and are manifested in institutions. Governments emerge from institutions of the people [kungmin ui kigwan]. Only after governments make their governmental orders consistent and harmonious [with the people,] and after their education and laws are all selected and enlightened, is it possible to call these governments civilized states. Now, in the East, only Japan first opened the road to civilization, developed technologies and arts, nurtured vibrant energies [of the country], and stood equally with world powers. . . . Although your organization [the Ilchinhoe] and ours [the Chinbohoe] were not in contact, [your] four-point platform reflects [our] purpose. This could be described as a case of those in the lead and those who follow meeting unexpectedly.31 Along with its haircutting ceremonies, the Ilchinhoe released new guidelines for clothing on October 25, 1904. These guidelines set sartorial standards that

30. Hwang Hyon thought that Japan took it for granted that if the Ilchinhoe participated in politics, it would not impede Japan’s efforts. MCYR, pp. 572–573. 31. IH, 1:39–40.

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continued into the colonial period.32 The five Ilchinhoe recommendations on dress were as follows: 1. Members should cut their hair. 2. They should wear foreign-style hats but attempt to make them from national products. 3. They may continue wearing traditional Korean costumes for their everyday dress. 4. They should wear traditional Korean overcoats (turumagi) with narrow sleeves for their everyday outer garments and should dye the coats. For public or private ceremonial dress, they did not need to follow these restrictions. 5. They could freely wear Western suits, but the suits should be plain ones so that people do not waste their money.33 The Ilchinhoe wanted the “new look” to remove the visual marks of social hierarchy among Koreans and refashion its members as messengers of a “new civilization.” How, then, did Koreans receive the Ilchinhoe’s new hairstyle and fashion? Did the new look come to signify the “attire of reformers”—or something else? The Ilchinhoe left behind glowing self-praise about the collective haircutting, describing the ceremony as a ritual through which its members were reborn as reformers and recognized as such by the people. For instance, the Ilchinhoe’s official history includes an account of a Chinbohoe haircutting ceremony conducted in Southern Hamgyong Province. The description of the assembly is dramatic. The members started their assembly under violent repression, as the magistrate and local clerks (yiyebae) called the Japanese army and arrested many members. While fighting against the weapons of the Japanese army, the members continued to hold the meeting, and ten were injured. Crying and protecting each other against the assaults, the Ilchinhoe members had their hair cut. Approximately a thousand members joined them in this haircutting ceremony. Afterward, Munsan in Chongp’yong, the location of the assembly, was called “the town of the short hairs” (tanbal hyon). The Ilchinhoe proudly wrote that the people in the region admired (ch’anmi) its members and their reserved and dignified attitudes.34 This self-portrayal, of course, did not accord with more complicated contemporary opinions and some bitter emotions toward the Ilchinhoe’s new look. The 32. Hyung Gu Lynn, “Fashioning Modernity: Changing Meanings of Clothing in Colonial Korea,” Journal of International and Area Studies 11, no. 3 (2004): 75–93. 33. IH, 1:19–20. 34. Ibid., 2:4–5.

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Korea Daily News reckoned that the Ilchinhoe used haircutting ceremonies and Western clothes to augment its authority among the people. The newspaper reported that when the Ilchinhoe selected inspectors to regulate the behavior of its members,35 it chose more than a hundred “tall and good-looking” members and made them swagger about the streets of Seoul in “Western suits” (yangbok).36 When the crown princess of Korea died, the Korea Daily News also wrote, the Ilchinhoe planned to assemble three thousand members to attend the funeral and send off her bier outside the Eastern Gate in Seoul. Members were reportedly going to wear Japanese boshi hats on which the letter “K,” presumably representing Korea, was printed in gold.37 The Ilchinhoe did attend the funeral, forming seventeen units composed of a hundred members each, placed at seventeen locations in Seoul.38 However, the Korea Daily News provides no information as to whether this new fashion in mourning was in fact carried out. The Korea Daily News was cynical about the Ilchinhoe’s new look. An editorial commented that the Ilchinhoe’s identity was “odd and incomprehensible” to Koreans who had actually traveled abroad and acquired foreign knowledge from direct observation and reading. The editorial heaped scorn on Ilchinhoe members for shaving their hair and wearing foreign hats on their bare heads in order to stand out from the crowd. The editorial writer was convinced that the aforementioned Ilchinhoe inspectors (sach’al) were “putting on airs and bullying others” on the streets of Seoul. He found their “ugly” and “pathetic” looks utterly unbearable and wrote that what the “foolish” Ilchinhoe members called reform was only “impolite” behavior and “noisy commotion” in front of high ministers.39 When the Ilchinhoe escalated their confrontation with the Korean monarch in January 1905, the Korea Daily News printed both rumors about and reports on the march of Ilchinhoe local members to the capital. Expecting that the group would hold a big assembly in Seoul, the newspaper kept careful track of the movements of “the short hairs” in Western suits heading for the capital. One article quoted a government telegram stating that many Ilchinhoe members in Cholla Province had gathered in Kunsan Port, cut their hair, put on Western suits, and were leaving for Seoul.40 Another article reported a telegram to Ilchinhoe headquarters reporting that several tens of thousands of Ilchinhoe members in Western suits would soon enter the capital.41 The newspaper also began re35. The Ilchinhoe appointed these inspectors because the misdeeds of its members or of Ilchinhoe “pretenders” could provide an excuse for government repression. 36. KD, October 11, 1904. 37. Ibid., January 5, 1905. 38. Ibid., January 6, 1905. 39. Ibid., November 19, 1904. 40. Ibid., January 5, 1904. 41. Ibid., January 2, 1904.

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7. The editors’ office of the Korea Daily News (1904). From Cho P’ung-ypn, Sajin vro ponvn Chpspn Sidae: Saenghwal kwa P’ungsok (Seoul: Srmundang, 1986), p. 200.

porting from December 1904 that the Ilchinhoe had become a target of violence by anti-Japanese guerrillas. It quoted a man from Hongch’on, Ch’ungch’ong Province, saying that the people in the region had decided to kill anybody who even “mentions a haircut.” It quoted the same man as saying that “the day when he cuts his hair will be the day that he dies.”42 The Korea Daily News admonished its readers not to confuse the Ilchinhoe’s new look with “reform.” Yet despite this critical stance, articles in 1904 and 1905 indicate that Koreans were acknowledging short hair, whether sincerely or mockingly, as a symbol of reform. According to one account in the Korea Daily News, a man with a short haircut had urinated near the building of Chongno Electric Company, which ran electric cars in Seoul. A driver accosted him, saying, “It is said that haircutting is for progress and enlightenment, so why do you in short hair pee any place, as dogs and pigs do? What is your purpose?” Then, the article reported, the short-haired man had been embarrassed and had left.43 The Mansebo, the official newspaper of the Chondogyo religion, related an interesting account of how the Ilchinhoe’s new look disturbed government officials.44 The Mansebo article told of a quarrel in September 1906 between the 42. Ibid., December 16, 1904. 43. Ibid., December 15, 1904. 44. The Ch’ondogyo newspaper did this even after the religion had severed relations with the Ilchinhoe.

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director-general of Samhwa Port (Samhwa kamni) and a local Ilchinhoe member. When the director-general, Pyon Chong-sang, went to his office, he was met by an Ilchinhoe member in Western-style glasses waiting for him and smoking a cigarette. The director had said to him, “You are a commoner in the port. How dare you be so rude in front of me, the director? Get out of here!” The Ilchinhoe member had retorted, “When Ilchinhoe members in the capital go to the government, even the ministers do not touch them. Is the position of director higher than that of the ministers?” The director-general felt offended for a number of reasons. He regarded it as rude to wear glasses and smoke cigarettes in front of those in higher positions. The director also felt humiliated because the Ilchinhoe member, a commoner, entered his office without official consent and interrupted government affairs unrelated to the Ilchinhoe member’s interests. The Mansebo reporter commented that the official’s anger was “unwarranted.” He scoffed at the director, stating: If the member’s glasses offended the director’s official authority, he can take an action appropriate for responding to the offense. If the member’s cigarette hurt Mr. Pyon’s human rights, then he is able to dispute the member on those terms. However, I do not know what the Ilchinhoe member violated. Mr. Pyon’s self-esteem is fraudulent. Being full of status consciousness or bigotry toward the commoners in the port, does he mean to suggest that he is the only person in Samhwa? At any rate, since even those like Mr. Pyon, who claims to be a leading figure, behave like this, we often hear laments about the hapless fate of people from the local market areas. . . . Mr. Pyon [wished to] forbid other people from buying glasses with their own money, and blamed them for what they bought and smoked. Does he disrespect the wealth of other people, or does he always mind other people’s business?45 The reporter concluded, “Since nothing in the Ilchinhoe member’s appearance violated the law, Pyon’s feeling of being humiliated was a personal problem.” The issue was Pyon’s “bigoted” consciousness and his failure to respect the visitor’s freedom to buy and consume whatever he wanted. Whether encountering suspicion, mockery, or support, the Ilchinhoe struggled to consolidate the image of its members as “reformers.” For example, the Ilchinhoe headquarters sent a telegram to members to instruct them about the “norms” they should observe as “representatives of the two million fellow Koreans.” These instructions designated the roles of Ilchinhoe members: they were expected to (1) recommend the four-point platform to the government; (2) bring 45. Mansebo, September 8, 1906, pp. 2–3.

8. An Ilchinhoe member certificate (Ilchinhoe hoewpn sinp’yo). This certificate is numbered 1,428 and was issued on May 5, 1905 to Spng Kil-wpn in Okch’pn, Northern Ch’ungch’png Province. The certificate records the names of the Ilchinhoe Okch’pn branch chair, Ko Ypng-spk, and the chair of the Northern Ch’ungch’png branch, Yi Yong-sik. The two names before Ko and Yi appear to be Yun Si-bypng, the chair of the Ilchinhoe headquarters, and Yi Yong-gu, the chair of thirteen Ilchinhoe provincial branches. Photo courtesy of the Independence Hall of Korea.

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good administration and fair laws to society; (3) protect the people’s (kungmin) life and property and help them enjoy happiness; and (4) consolidate the foundation of independence. The instructions also include a guideline of conduct requiring members to (a) behave with prudence and dignity; (b) use kind and polite, generous, and virtuous words; (c) behave with proper manners to their elders; (d) serve with sincerity those below them; and (e) never be arrogant toward the people. When conducting their business, they should (f) not misunderstand or misjudge circumstances or ever be involved in supporting personal interests, either of officials or individuals; (g) always pay attention to the universal public interest (pot’ongjok kongik) and costs; (h) learn and read books on new knowledge; (i) make efforts to develop agriculture and commerce; and ( j) promote education and civilization.46 It is impressive—and perhaps unexpected—that the Ilchinhoe members possessed such a rigorous code of conduct, whether or not they lived up to such standards. Does this code, then, match how people saw the Ilchinhoe members? Contemporaneous publications presented diverse images of the Ilchinhoe members, ranging from aggressive reformers to shameless collaborators. The Korea Daily News was harsh in establishing the notoriety of the Ilchinhoe as traitors. But more neutral reports occasionally appeared in the newspaper. One article printed the Ilchinhoe’s accusation that the minister of the interior had repressed the Ilchinhoe with an “intention of treason” (maeguk hal maumuro).47 Another article published the words of a former high police official to his guests. He had reportedly said that the Ilchinhoe’s movement was “righteous” (uigo), that he regretted his repression of the movement during his incumbency, and that he had carried out his duties against his “free will” (chayu).48 Another newspaper story noted that some regarded the Ilchinhoe as an institution that people could call on to solve their troubles. When a person from the countryside (sigolsaram) had been robbed, for example, he had asked the Ilchinhoe to help him get his possessions back instead of going to the police.49 The Imperial Gazetteer moderated its criticism when it came to the Ilchinhoe’s protests against corrupt officials and the group’s efforts to introduce “modern” education. Records in the Mansebo are important because it was the official newspaper of the Ch’ondogyo (Religion of the Heavenly Way), the new religious organization of the Tonghak founded by Son Pyong-hui in 1905.50 When Son returned to Korea from Japan in January 1906, he maintained good relations with the Ilchin46. 47. 48. 49. 50.

IH, 2:46. KD, January 7, 1905. Ibid., January 9, 1905. Ibid., January 9, 1905. IH, 3:14–15; MCYR, p. 647.

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hoe. The Ilchinhoe leaders Yi Yong-gu and Song Pyong-jun went to Pusan and Taejon, respectively, to welcome Son, and five thousand Ilchinhoe members greeted him at Seoul Station near the Southern Gate (namun yok).51 After his return to Korea, Son Pyong-hui found it difficult to control the Ilchinhoe and looked for a different avenue through which to influence the Tonghak. It was in this context that he launched the newspaper Mansebo in 1906. The editors of the Mansebo joined the elite reformist organization, the Taehan Chaganghoe (Great Korean Association for Self-Strengthening), established in April 1906. Because Son increasingly disagreed with Yi Yong-gu and other Ilchinhoe leaders, he excommunicated them from Ch’ondogyo in September 1906. Mansebo columns became more critical of the Ilchinhoe from that period on. As the Ilchinhoe’s aforementioned dispute with Pyon indicates, some Mansebo articles on the Ilchinhoe remained positive even after the excommunication. An article written in September 1906 noted, “The Ilchinhoe in its early days shone brightly and its cause brought about some good results.” But as Japan secured its dominance in Korea, the Mansebo estimated, the Ilchinhoe rapidly lost popularity, resulting in a financial crisis that began in the spring of 1906.52 The Korea Daily News did not oppose the Ilchinhoe’s reform platform itself. An editorial in late September 1904 stated that all four points of the Ilchinhoe’s platform were good, but its members were “wicked” (ohwal) and “incomprehensible” (chongjak opta). In December 1904, another editorial alleged that the Ilchinhoe had become composed of “debauched” beings (parakho) controlled by Japan. The Korea Daily News criticized the Ilchinhoe for flaunting their close relations with Japan and for keeping Korea and Japan from developing a workable relationship. The newspaper repeated that the Ilchinhoe’s proposed reforms were nothing new,53 and it acclaimed anti-Japanese Korean guerrilla actions against the Ilchinhoe.54 Already in January 1905, the paper was referring to the Ilchinhoe as “the hirelings of Japan” and “slaves [nobok] of the Japanese.” The newspaper wrote that Japan’s aim was to make the Japanese, or the Koreans in the Japan Party (Ibondang), supervise and control all affairs in Korea. It went on to predict that Japan would regret this in the end.55 51. Ibid., 3:15. In February 1905, the patriarch sent 1,000 won in gold to the Ilchinhoe. 52. Mansebo, September 2, 1906. 53. KD, December 12, 1904. 54. Ibid., December 21, 1904 (the Righteous Armies killed the Chinbohoe); KD, December 26, 1904 (Yun Kilbyong was arrested); KD, December 29, 1904 (if the Righteous Army endangered Ilchinhoe members, the Ilchinhoe would advance to the capital in order); KD, December 26, 1904 (the Chungju governor sent a telegram saying that Sim Chinhoe had organized a thousand villagers, expelled the Ilchinhoe, and made them move outside the region under his jurisdiction); KD, January 5, 1905 (the uprising of the Righteous Armies—former officials joined to oppose the Ilchinhoe; KD, January 18, 1905 (the Japanese commander in chief was asked to fire the Huich’on magistrate). 55. Ibid., January 18, 1905.

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The Ilchinhoe had ignited cultural sparks among Koreans through collective haircutting and public assemblies. As illustrated here, these practices did not solidify the Ilchinhoe’s image as reformers. The radical implications of the Ilchinhoe’s new look were overridden by Korean suspicions identifying the group as “slaves of the Japanese.” While the Korean Daily News stigmatized the Ilchinhoe’s new look as “pathetic” and “absurd,” the group’s public statements increasingly sounded inadequate in the reality and context of the protectorate. Ilchinhoe members were also confused and struggling to resolve the conflicts between their original motives and their commitment to supporting Japanese dominance in Korea. Meanwhile, elite reformers appropriated the Ilchinhoe’s core idioms, such as popular rights and its new attire for “enlightened gentlemen,” and integrated them within a nationalist outlook.

The Legacy of the Independent and the August 1904 Ilchinhoe Manifesto The Ilchinhoe manifested the movement’s underlying connection with the spirit of the Tonghak by antagonizing government officials and criticizing the latter’s corruption or immoral conduct.56 However, the Ilchinhoe’s public statements before 1907 seldom related the movement to the Tonghak Rebellion. Instead, it borrowed its rhetoric from the writings of the Independence Club57 and replicated phrases from articles printed in the Independent. After the closedown of the newspaper, Korea’s national print media, such as the Imperial Gazetteer, did not give prominent space to the term minkwon (“the rights of the people”) prior to the Russo-Japanese War. The Ilchinhoe revived this term in their politics and generated a “transnational” proposition that associated minkwon with empire. The Ilchinhoe’s language was vague, unsophisticated, and peppered with the discourse of “civilization and enlightenment.” This does not mean that such discourse was structurally bound to colonialism. The Ilchinhoe’s statements supported the Japanese domination of Korea, but they also contain ideas that remain contemporary today and that were not neatly subjected to the category of “modernity.” In this sense, the Ilchinhoe’s language differed from the Japanese colonial discourse and that of Korean nationalism. The Ilchinhoe’s ideas were illusory, yet they facilitated ideological changes among Koreans, redefining the rights of the people and the sovereignty of the state. This process was vital in

56. IH, 1:9–10. 57. Ibid., 2:33–34.

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shaping Korean nationalist thought, which underlined the nation’s ethnic homogeneity yet promised a republican path affirming the sovereignty of the people. Thinkers of the Korean Enlightenment School had introduced the ideas of popular rights in the late nineteenth century. In 1895, Yu Kil-jun published his book Soyu Kyonmun , written while under house arrest for the 1884 palace coup. Soyu Kyonmun includes chapters on the rights of the country (pangguk ui kwolli) and the rights of the people (inmin ui kwolli). It includes many quotations from the Japanese thinker Fukuzawa Yukichi and has been known for this Japanese influence. Kim Pong-jin, scholar of East Asian political thought, has compared Yu’s texts with those of Fukuzawa and distinguished Yu’s ideas from the latter’s position. Yu divided the rights of the country into internal and external sovereignty. Internal sovereignty (naeyong chukwon) comprises “the rights to autonomously govern the politics and legal regulations within the country according to its own constitution.” External sovereignty refers to the right to maintain the country’s foreign relations according to the “principles of independence and equality.” Kim argues that Yu did not privilege power or legal positivism in acknowledging a state’s sovereignty but conceived of sovereignty as a “natural right” that any country can hold, regardless of its power, size, or wealth.58 Yu’s chapter on the people’s freedom and rights quotes Fukuzawa’s definitions from his Soyangsajong (or Seiyo Jijo in Japanese) and discusses two kinds of freedom— “naturally endowed human rights” and “the popular rights” defined and restrained by the law and government regulations. Kim insists that Yu, in contrast to Fukuzawa’s tendency to favor the rights of the state, never privileged legal obligations over freedom, although Yu, too, asserted the importance of respecting the law.59 After Yu’s book was published, it was the Independent that more broadly publicized the ideas of the people’s rights and freedom and the validity of their political participation. In a column published in April 1896, the Independent called the rights of the people “what are determined in laws.” If the enacted laws have problems, the people could write their opinions to newspapers or make speeches on the problems to the public. But they could turn into “desperados” (nallyu) if they harmed the government or slandered or killed its officials. This column, written during the aftershocks of the 1894 rebellion, targeted the Tonghak.60 Yet the Independent insisted that the people should be given the right to elect the government officials who make the laws. The Independent considered it desirable that lawmakers learn the new knowledge of “politics” (chongch’ihak). If this 58. Kim Pong-jin, “Yu kil-jun ui kundae kukka gwan,” Tongyang Chongch’i Sasang 10, no. 1 (2011): 221. 59. Ibid., p. 223. 60. ID, April 11, 1896, editorial.

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proved impossible, officials should at least administer the law and the government with honesty and fairness. The Independent argued that “election by the people” is the best way to find good and honest officials. The Independent addressed this proposition not in terms of the people’s rights per se but as a way to administer good government. This Independent column specifically suggests to the Korean court that the monarch reserve the right to select the ministers and vice ministers of the cabinet but relegate to the people the right to elect by majority vote the provincial governors, magistrates, and other local officials. If the election of local governments is introduced in Korea, the Independent opined, the people will understand its benefits in just one or two years.61 In the usage of the Independent, the phrase “popular rights” was attached to those foreign countries—especially the United States—that had institutionalized elections and political parties.62 In a column published in February 1898, the Independent went further. Written on George Washington’s birthday, the column praised elections as the “sacred institution” that could give people the right to become even the president of a country, who possesses the “highest rights equal to those of the monarch.” The columnist expressed his admiration that George Washington had distributed that right to all the people in America and made them elect a person whom they trust to be the president and give him the “rights of the king” to govern the country for four years. After these four years, he must step down from the presidency and return to equal status with other citizens. The Independent celebrated that “this fair and sacred idea has not been found in any human society, past and present, or Eastern and Western.”63 Even though this column described presidential elections as practiced in a foreign country, it was dangerous in that it applauded the idea that the people could become as high as the king and could possess rights equal to his. The Independent’s articles on elections and the American presidency foreshadowed the subsequent dissolution of the Independence Club by the Korean emperor. The newspaper Maeil sinmun printed the petition to the throne of a former government official, Kim Ing-no, who voiced the acute anxiety of the Confucian scholars over the Independent’s arguments on the people’s rights. Comparing the king to a ship and the people to water, Kim perceived that the monarchy’s crisis had reached the point where “the water overthrows the ship.” Kim felt that the people were behaving as if there were no limits (musobuji) and that the country could not withstand such assaults. If this continued, he argued, only the people would

61. Ibid., April 14, 1896, pp. 1–2. 62. Ibid., July 23, 1896; November 11, 1897. 63. Ibid., February 22, 1898, pp. 1–2.

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remain, while the country would disappear. If the country followed what the Independence Club wanted, Kim continued, it would turn into an “independent state of the people, with no king and his subjects.”64 A July 1898 Independent editorial tried to appease such anxieties and denied the prospect of a popular revolution in Korea. The editorial quotes the worries of Koreans that a popular revolt (minbyon) like the French Revolution would occur in Korea. The editorial enumerates the fundamental differences between Korea and France on the eve of its revolution. First, in France, the people’s assemblies (minhoe) were well developed, and the French people recognized their rights (minkwon), even though they were living under severe “tyranny.” In contrast, a very limited number of Koreans had even heard of the notion of such rights. Second, in France, scholarly learning (hangmun) and knowledge were highly developed, and the French people were much better educated than Koreans. Several decades before the French Revolution, famous scholars had publicized ideas on the people’s freedom and rights (inmin ui chajyu kwolli), and the French people understood how to use them. Thus, after the French people overthrew their tyrant, they had not faced serious problems in running the government. However, the Korean people had not received such an education. Even if the Korean people were given the rights of freedom, they could not handle those rights. Finally, France had a strong military and managed its foreign relations well. When the Party of People’s Rights (Minkwondang) was thriving in France, the military protected the country. The editorial noted its admiration for the “patriotism” of the French people, who “fought each other in peace but were united in crisis to protect the land and sovereignty [kukkwon] of the country.” The Independent editorial scolded Koreans for disregarding the importance of a strong military, being “brave” in their personal fights but “timid” in fights for their country. The editorial concluded that Korean people, “being ignorant, weak, and nonpatriotic,” should never emulate the enterprise of the French or even “dream” of such a revolution. Instead, Korean reformers should broaden the people’s knowledge and experience (mun’gyon) through newspapers and education, without demanding “rights that the people do not deserve” (pun oe ui kwolli). The narrative of this Independent editorial denies the possibility of a democratic revolution in Korea on the grounds that the Korean people were not ready for it. It does not reject the idea of people’s rights and freedom, however—and it certainly idealizes the French situation. An article in the Independent a few months later, in December 1898, more explicitly asserted the importance of people’s participation in the government. The main ideas of this article were replicated in the 1904 Ilchinhoe manifesto and in the group’s other statements. 64. Maeil sinmun, August 24, 1898, pp. 1–2.

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The December 1898 article begins with a simple theory of the state, the people, and the government. According to the article, the “state” is none other than its people because the people rely on the land (t’oji) and establish a state on it. The monarch, the government, and the people are united in the construction of a state. For the past three thousand years, however, the government has monopolized the state’s rights, and the people have not been aware of their own rights. Under the “tyrannies of the East,” it is difficult for the people to immediately take those rights back. The Independent article continues that under “tyrannies” people do not have an interest in defending the security of the state. The people will feel responsible for the safety of the country only when they have their rights in governing that country. The Independent reiterated this logic in many other articles. In another article, on freedom of speech (onkwon chayu) and free assemblies, for example, the newspaper asserted that freedom of speech is a crucial principle in ruling the country, and newspapers are vital instruments for conveying public opinion. This article also declares that the “most important role of the government” is “protecting the people’s life, property, and rights.”65 In short, the Independent argued that a democratic revolution was neither expected nor desirable in Korea—not because democratic rule was wrong per se but because Koreans were not ready. The Independent proposed that the Korean emperor should grant the people freedom of speech and other rights, including a greater role in politics; only in that way would the government secure the people’s willingness to defend the country and ultimately strengthen the state. The 1904 Ilchinhoe statement, or manifesto (Ilchinhoe ch’wijiso), published for the group’s opening assembly in August 1904, repeated this argument,66 although it shed the strong reservations of the Independent about the Korean people’s readiness for greater political participation. The 1904 Ilchinhoe manifesto was composed of three parts: (1) the theory of the relationship between the state, government, and the people; (2) a diagnosis of Korea’s circumstances; and (3) the Ilchinhoe’s own goals in organizing the movement. It begins with the essentials of what constitutes the state and the people. The state is established by the people (kukka nun inmin urosso songnip han cha), and the people maintain themselves in associations or societies (inmin un sahoe rosso yujihanun cha). A state comes into a real existence only when people fulfill their obligations to the state, and people become the people when they are united in associations. The people’s obligations to the state are not limited to military service or tax payment but include their deliberations and rec65. ID, January 10, 1899. 66. IH, 1:2.

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ommendations to the government about critical political affairs. To fulfill the people’s duties of deliberation and recommendation, the Ilchinhoe statement continues, the powerful countries of the world permit people to have freedom (chayu) of the press (ollon chojak) and of assembly (chiphoe kyolsa). After asserting the importance of the people’s rights and political participation, the Ilchinhoe statement defines the roles of the government, the throne, and the people in the constitution of the state. The government is responsible for assisting (pop’il) the throne and takes direct charge of administration. The people are obliged to assist (hyopch’an) the throne and the government and indirectly participate in the legislative power (ippopkwon). “The throne” refers to the highest (musang cheil) and most respected person, who is in general charge (taegwon ul ch’ongnam) of legislation and administration and who governs the people and the state (min’guk).67 The Ilchinhoe statement continues with the assertion that the government and the people should unite and make efforts to solemnize the security of the imperial house and consolidate its sovereignty. The government has ultimate responsibility for improving administration and the judiciary, in order to protect the people’s life and property. People should satisfy their obligations in terms of military service and tax payment and should also watch over important affairs in politics. To secure these principal roles of the government and the people, the Ilchinhoe manifesto states, “the national assembly [kukhoe] and societies [sahoe]” of people are established. This sentence reveals that the Ilchinhoe considered a national assembly a desirable political institution for the future and saw the movement’s own role as that of a political party or society. Rather than demand immediate establishment of a national assembly, however, the statement emphasizes its general importance. The Ilchinhoe statement goes on to discuss the specific Korean situation and the reason for its own movement: “More than a decade after new institutions were introduced [sinsik irae (in 1894)], Korea has not solved its problems or thoroughly applied the spirit of improvement [kaeryang].” The Korean circumstances since then have been “tyrannical,” and the Korean people have been unable to preserve their life and property. The Korean government is spending one third of the national revenue on tens of thousands of soldiers, yet has nothing to show for it. The Ilchinhoe statement claims that the crisis of the state is urgent and that many people with the same concerns are organizing a society to cope with it. They are calling their society the Ilchin (Advancement in Unity) in order to “make progress together with one heart [ilsim chinbo].” The manifesto 67. The term min’guk literally means “state of people,” “country of people,” or “republic,” as used in Taehan Min’guk (The Great People’s State of Korea), the official title, in Korean, of the Republic of Korea. The meaning of min’guk in this Ilchinhoe statement is unclear but indicates that the throne is the head of the “people’s state.” But the term can also refer to “the state and the people.” Here I take the term’s latter meaning in translation.

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concludes with a call for the group’s “Korean brethren” to join them in their efforts to reform and save the country.68 This 1904 Ilchinhoe manifesto notes that the throne supervises legislative and administrative power and governs the people. But it also demands that the government take direct charge of administration, while dubbing this role mere “assistance” (pop’il) to the monarch. It emphasizes the people’s obligation to advise the government on critical political matters and to indirectly “participate in the legislative process.” To accomplish this participatory role of the people, the Ilchinhoe calls it crucial to guarantee freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, freedom of the press, and freedom to form associations or societies. In principle, a national assembly and “political” societies should be established to facilitate the role of the people in the government. Along with reproducing the language of the Independent, the Ilchinhoe tried to project the image to the public that it had inherited the values and assets of the Independence Club. The Ilchinhoe made a former member of the Club, Yun Si-byong, its first chair, and claimed Independence Hall as its possession. The group asked that Ministry of the Royal Household, with which the hall was affiliated at the time, return the hall to the Ilchinhoe, the “people’s party.”69 In its petition to the Royal Treasury, the Ilchinhoe wrote, “If Independence Hall is the ‘symbol’ [p’yoji] of Korea’s independence, then the Ilchinhoe forms the ‘standard’ [p’yojun] for building Korea’s independence.”70 The minister of the Royal Treasury did not initially accept this request because the Ilchinhoe had no legal documents proving its right to Independence Hall.71 The Ministry of Council (Uijongbu) finally permitted this Ilchinhoe petition on July 20, 1905.72 The Ilchinhoe began construction of the Kwangmu School within the property of In68. IH, 1:3–4. 69. Ibid., 2:7–8. Independence Hall was located in the former Mohwagwan (Hall of China Worship) near Yongun Gate (Gate of Gratitude), where the court of the Choson dynasty welcomed Chinese emissaries and held banquets for them. Repeating the Independence Club’s narratives on Korea and Qing China’s relations, the Ilchinhoe argued that Koreans had regarded these reception places for Chinese officials as the sites of shame and anger for “three hundred years” (i.e., ever since the invasion by Qing China in the 1630s and the establishment of tributary relations). According to the Ilchinhoe, the “shackle” of China’s repression had been lifted by the 1894 Sino-Japanese War and by Korea announcing its independence to the world. To celebrate this, the Independence Club had collected voluntary contributions and transformed the Hall of China Worship into Independence Hall and replaced the Gate of Gratitude with a Western-style arc, the Independence Gate. The Ilchinhoe blamed “wicked” government officials for abandoning the hall and gate to disrepair after the fall of the Independence Club and for preventing the sites from being used to advance the spirit of independence and patriotism among the people. 70. IH, 2:15–16. 71. Ibid., 2:17–18. The Ilchinhoe countered that the former minister of the Royal Treasury, Yi Yong-ik, had removed the hall’s equipment and expelled the residents of its guard house; as it was unclear whether the hall’s ownership documents existed, the government should treat the case of Independence Hall differently from other sites. 72. Ibid., 2:77–78.

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dependence Hall in November 1905.73 It used the hall as its headquarters,74 installed the “Podium of Independence” (tongnip yonsoldae) near Independence Gate (tongnipmun), and held large public meetings there.75

Independence through Dependence: The 1905 Ilchinhoe Proclamation Like the Korean elite reformers, the Ilchinhoe used the idioms of independence (tongnip), national sovereignty (kukkwon), and even patriotism (aeguk) in its public announcements. How did the movement reconcile this contradiction between its defense of independence and its subordination to Japan? The Ilchinhoe devised a discourse that could be called the “logic of collaboration.” According to this logic, independence was something that could be strengthened through dependence. The logic was presented in its 1905 Ilchinhoe proclamation (Ilchinhoe sononso), announced just before Japan forced Korea to sign the protectorate treaty. Song Pyong-jun called a special meeting to formulate this proclamation, which was probably penned by Hong Kung-sop as the staff member in charge of writing the Ilchinhoe’s official announcements (chesulwiwon).76 The 1905 proclamation begins with a general discussion of the capability, speech, and action of human agency. Recognizing an individual’s capability and limitations is the starting point when one takes a path to “dependence in order to preserve independence” (sungo ubang chido yuji tongnip). Someone who has the capacity to do something can first make a statement that he or she will do it and then act on it, whereas someone who does not have such a capacity should cultivate his or her ability without saying anything about it and then act on his or her goals. For the Ilchinhoe, Japan was a capable country that was “advanced” and “enlightened” and that had been a “peace maker” in East Asia between 1894 and 1905. It acknowledges Koreans’ resentment at the prospect of an imminent change in Korea-Japan relations but views worries about a drastic change as “rumors” with little foundation. At the same time, it states that maintaining the “old system” is not a “desirable” solution between the two countries. The 1905 proclamation clarifies its logic on “independence through dependence” by referring to the “name and substance” of independence. Here a country’s capability is once more important, in the same way that capability is important in human choices. If a country can refuse intervention by foreign countries 73. 74. 75. 76.

Ibid., 3:26. Ibid., 2:13, 17–18; 3:24–28. Nagashima Hiroki, “Isshinkai no Katsudo to sono Tenkai,” Nenpo Chosengaku 5 (July 1995): 64. IH, 3:106.

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and perfect the “name and substance” of its independence, then the people in the country should rise up all together and clearly announce their independence to the world. If this attempt fails, all the people in the country will die in justice, and that will be the end. However, if a country cannot follow this path, it is appropriate to follow the “guidance of a friendly ally,” make progress toward a civilized status, and maintain its “independence.” In this case, the dependent country will lose the “name” of independence but not the “substance.” If the people in a country neither move forward with courage for a cause nor trust the “sincere heart” of the ally, then their suspicions about the two countries’ relationship will only damage the “ally’s friendship” and imperil the country. The proclamation states, in ambiguous terms, “Eternal peace [yonggu p’yonghwa] differs from temporary ease, and independence is not its name but its substance.” The Ilchinhoe statement then explains the movement’s own idea of sovereignty—perhaps “its substance.” General sovereignty (taegwon) belongs to the monarch. However, the different divisions in the government take actual charge of domestic politics, foreign policies, and various administrative affairs. Officials in each division take responsibility for their tasks. The writers of the 1905 proclamation indicate that they expect that the next change in Korea-Japan relations will be the protectorate treaty and Korea’s loss of diplomatic jurisdiction. The proclamation predicts that the Korean government will relegate its diplomatic rights to the Japanese government, calling consuls home and closing its foreign legations. The authors then ask what kind of damage this could really cause to Korea’s “independence and dignity.” The Ilchinhoe proclamation answers this question by asserting that there would be no damage from a situational and theoretical perspective. According to the Korea–Japan protocol of 1904, the Korean government was already accepting the advice of the Japanese government in foreign relations. Even if foreign affairs were fully transferred to the Japanese government in the next stage, this would be a change only in “form,” not “substance.” This is even more the case, the proclamation asserts, when the consuls dispatched abroad are “disqualified” and “harmful” to the prestige of the state. A Korea that entrusts its diplomacy to the government of its “ally,” depends on the ally’s power, and makes that ally “protect and maintain Korea’s sovereignty” (kukkwon) will not differ from one in which the Korean emperor maintains sovereignty (taekwon). Moreover, if Koreans, in domestic politics, could safely recruit officials of the “advanced” government and let them “cleanse” the problems of the Korean government and benefit the “people’s welfare” (minbok), this would also not differ much from the Korean government’s power. In brief, the proclamation argues, the “substance” of independence consists of a government that functions well, fulfillment of the people’s welfare, and the representation of Korea’s

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independence abroad—and need not include the formal possession of sovereignty by the “Korean government.” Following this logic, the 1905 Ilchinhoe proclamation refutes the accusations of “treason” against its members by other Koreans. Although some Koreans describe the “supporters of the ally Japan” as “whorish dev ils” (ch’anggwi) and call members of the Ilchinhoe “traitors,” the proclamation insists that the group’s “righteousness” is “bright and clear like the sun and the moon”; the true “dev ils or slaves” are the people who “deceive” the Korean emperor and the people with wrong words and “damage” the diplomacy of Korea’s ally, Japan. The proclamation declares that the Ilchinhoe trust “the ally’s sincerity” because the “Great Emperor of Japan” has announced to the world Japan’s “commitment” to protecting “Korea’s independence and to maintain[ing] its territory.” The proclamation goes on to demand that Koreans be “confident” about this “ally’s promise” and concludes with the optimistic pledge that the Ilchinhoe will unite in one spirit, be friendly with Japan, and respect the alliance with sincerity: “Dependent on the ally’s guidance and its protection,” the proclamation argues, “Koreans will maintain the independence of the state and entertain their peace and happiness eternally.”77 The notion of sovereignty here does not mean the sovereignty of a modern nation-state, territorially bound and exclusive. What the Ilchinhoe call “independence” thus does not refer to a nation’s exclusive possession of power in a given territory but to the formal existence of Korea as a geographical entity. Moreover, the “substance” of independence means the “contents” or “qualities” of the government in power. As long as Korea’s territory and its people’s “welfare” are preserved, the intervention of a foreign “ally” can be a means to protect Korea’s “formal” existence. Thus the Ilchinhoe admitted the intervention of a foreign power for domestic reform, the people’s welfare, or peace. After this proclamation, the group conducted more frequent ceremonies to show its “true friendship” with the ally. It organized its members to express their support for Japan and to welcome the arrival of high Japanese officials and other important visitors at Seoul Station. For instance, when the commander in chief of the Japanese army, Hasegawa Yoshimichi, and the Ilchinhoe leader Yi Yong-gu arrived in Seoul from the northern battleground of the Russo-Japanese War on October 26, 1905, the Ilchinhoe chair and vice chair, the head of the Ilchinhoe council, and several hundred members all went to the Southern Gate Station. They greeted the Japanese commander and Yi Yong-gu with lanterns and were jubilant about their “triumphant” return. Government officials and Japanese residents of Seoul also 77. Ibid., 2:106–110. November 5, 1905.

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went to the station and celebrated the men’s return together with the Ilchinhoe members.78 When the Japanese army prevailed at Mukden in the Russo-Japanese War on March 10, 1905, Japanese residents gathered with hanging lanterns and held a big celebration at the Japanese army headquarters and at Commander Hasegawa’s residence in Seoul. Ilchinhoe members joined in and paraded together with the Japanese. They hung up two tall lanterns reading, “Long Live the Great Imperial Majesty of Japan” and “Long Live the Great Imperial Majesty of Korea.” On the back of both lanterns was written, “Ilchinhoe congratulates.” Three thousand young Ilchinhoe members in the parade carried lanterns and shouted, “Long live Korea and Japan!” The Japanese generals and other residents shouted in return, “Long live Japan and Korea!” After leaving Japanese army headquarters, members gathered again in the Ilchinhoe office and stayed there all night, drinking heavily and singing loudly in celebration.79 In The Original History of the Ilchinhoe, records of the Ilchinhoe’s reform assemblies decrease over time, while accounts of its reception of important Japanese visitors at Seoul Station appear more frequently.80 Increasingly, the Ilchinhoe’s pro-Japanese public ceremonies overshadowed the group’s campaigns for Korean reform.

The 1907 Ilchinhoe Proposal: Symbolic Emperor and Constitutional Monarchy After Emperor Kojong sent a secret delegation to the Hague Peace Conference in the spring of 1907 to protest Japan’s violation of Korean sovereignty, Japan decided to depose him and forced the Korean government to sign a new Korea– Japan agreement. Peter Duus calls this stage after 1907 a “de facto annexation.” The seven articles of the agreement were as follows: (1) the Korean government was to be directed by the Japanese protectorate governor for the improvement of government; (2) the Korean government needed authorization from the protectorate governor in the enactment of laws and important administrative measures; (3) Korean judiciary affairs were to be divided from government administration; (4) appointments of high officials were to require the approval of the protectorate governor; (5) Korea was to appoint Japanese officials whom the protectorate governor recommended; (6) Korea could not recruit foreign advisors without the approval of the protectorate governor; and (7) the first article of

78. IH, 2:104. 79. Ibid., 2:33. 80. Ibid., 2:61–62.

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the Korea–Japan agreement signed in 1904 was to be abolished. The agreement thus granted the protectorate government direct intervention in Korea’s domestic affairs. The Ilchinhoe criticized the Hague protest as the “betrayal” of an ally and a “disaster” for Korea’s security. It warned Prime Minister Yi Wan-yong that the Hague Incident would cause international conflict, noting that “if we betray a trust, we are destined to perish.” The Ilchinhoe argued that the Korean cabinet was responsible for this incident because it had taken charge of government affairs; the emperor was benign and wise, but his officials were not. The Ilchinhoe wrote a letter of “apology” on July 16, 1907, to the protectorate governor, Ito Hirobumi. This letter referred to the Japanese Pan-Asianist theory of “same race and same script” (tongjong tongmun), seldom found in the Ilchinhoe’s earlier public statements. According to this letter, although Japan and Korea had different country names, they were connected over the same sea and had enjoyed close contacts for thousands of years. The long history of Korea–Japan relations, the letter maintained, had turned into friendship under Japan’s “leadership,” as Japan had become “advanced and enlightened” (kaemyong sonjin) in recent years and made progress for the peace of the East (tongyang p’yonghwajuui). The Ilchinhoe applauded Ito for his efforts “on behalf of Korea” and recognized that his “heart” did not “discriminate” Korea from Japan. The Ilchinhoe regretted that Korean misunderstanding of Ito had led to the Hague Incident, an extremely critical security problem. Although regretting the “disaster” of the Hague Incident, the Ilchinhoe argued that “an accidental fire on the mountain wall gate could not reach the fish in the pond,” meaning that this incident would not change the general circumstances in Korea. The Ilchinhoe letter here slightly revises the group’s earlier theory of the state to suggest that the three components of a state are the people, the land, and the lineage of the royal house (chongsa). Here royal lineage takes the place of the monarch as the ruling sovereign in the Ilchinhoe’s earlier statements. The letter continues that the people, the land, and the royal lineage are innocent and not responsible for the incident. This conveys the idea that the cabinet should take responsibility for the incident and that the royal lineage should be preserved after Kojong’s abdication. The Ilchinhoe appear to have found Kojong’s dethronement a good opportunity to propose their own reforms. These 1907 proposals restrict the monarch to ritualistic roles, as a symbolic figure uniting the people and representing the spirit of a “civilizing” country. Accordingly, on August 3, 1907, the Ilchinhoe presented a ten-article memorial to the new Korean emperor—Kojong’s son, Sunjong—requesting the following:

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First, the emperor should visit in person the ancestral shrine of the royal lineage [chongmyo sajik], the imperial shrine [hwangdan], and the ancestral tombs, and perform the proper ritual ceremonies. Second, at the party celebrating his enthronement, the emperor should don the full ceremonial dress and the Western-style crown that the monarchs of civilized countries wear on such occasions. And before doing so, the emperor should personally undergo the haircutting ceremony. Third, after changing the title of the reign, the emperor was to promulgate the solar calendar, in order to coordinate the domestic calendar with foreign ones, though for farmers the twenty-four lunar seasonal terms [cholgi] would be added after the solar calendar. Fourth, the societies (or associations) in the capital would be permitted to attend the party celebrating the enthronement and represent their members in greeting the new throne. Fifth, outside the capital, all societies and people were to organize celebratory assemblies in their prefectures and districts [pugun], and even in counties or villages they could hold such ceremonies. Sixth, the flag of Great Korea [Taehan kukki] was to be flown throughout the country to respect the body of the state [kukch’e] and to represent the glory of the state [kukkwang]. Seventh, in accord with the old rituals of the ancestral reigns and the new circumstances, the emperor was to bestow imperial greetings, celebration, and gifts on the people and the elders in the country. Eighth, Korea was to send an emissary to Japan to renew and solidify the friendship between the Korean emperor and the Japanese emperor. Ninth, the new emperor was to grant amnesty to the refugees (in Japan) accused of high treason and permit them to be repatriated, in order to clear the suspicion between Korea and Japan. Tenth, the complicated and ornate style of traditional palace documents was to be eliminated in favor of simple and convenient forms, in order to show the spirit of the new civilization.81 The Ilchinhoe also presented a thirteen-article proposal to the cabinet, in which they explicitly demanded the establishment of a limited monarchy: 1. Promulgate a constitution and establish a national assembly; 2. Reform local administration, revise the boundaries of local districts, and change their names;

81. Ibid., 5:2–3.

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3. Investigate the property of local schools [hyanggyo] and establish new schools; 4. Reform the custom and tax regulations and reorganize them under the Ministry of Finance; 5. Abolish the remaining Grain Loan rice [sahwanmi]; 6. Reform the old rituals of wedding, capping, funeral, and ancestral mourning ceremonies; 7. Reform and enact laws in accordance with the spirit of the times [siui]; 8. Abolish superstitious shrines [umsa], nationalize their buildings, lands, and forests, and use those assets in order to subsidize education; 9. Permit remarriage of the people; 10. Permit marriage of Buddhist monks; 11. Rigorously implement the manumission of private slaves promulgated earlier; 12. Have all the people in high- and low-status groups cut their hair; and 13. Unify the means and units of measurements. Some of these articles, administrative in nature, had already been in the works since the 1894 reform or were later integrated into the protectorate government’s policies. But the first article—the creation of a constitution and the establishment of a national assembly—did not reappear in the Ilchinhoe’s later statements. After 1907, the Ilchinhoe’s discourse was limited to less politically charged areas: agricultural and industrial development, unity and harmony between government and the people, and education for progress and civilization. The Ilchinhoe’s proposal for the constitution and national assembly contradicted the reality of the protectorate after mid-1907, when Japanese intervention in the Korean domestic government deepened; members of local Ilchinhoe branches came under severe military attack from anti-Japanese guerrillas and were vilified by the nationalist media. After 1907, the physical survival of Ilchinhoe leaders as well as members of local branches depended on Japan’s protection. In these circumstances, the Ilchinhoe could hardly push for a constitution and national assembly. Thus, its thirteen-point proposal did not have any political impact, disappearing in silence.

The Theory of Political Union: 1909 Ilchinhoe Petitions for the Annexation By submitting petitions for the annexation of Korea by Japan in 1909, the Ilchinhoe established its notoriety as a traitor. Given that its 1907 proposal for a constitutional monarchy had gone nowhere under the protectorate and that the

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group’s popular mobilization had declined precipitously, these 1909 petitions functioned mainly as window dressing for Japan’s formal colonization of Korea. Nevertheless, the rhetoric of the 1909 petitions contains a trace of the Ilchinhoe’s earlier orientation, including its flexible understanding of state sovereignty and the people’s political status. Among its 1909 petitions and statements, the Ilchinhoe’s announcement to the Korean people more conspicuously reveals this orientation. The announcement acknowledges the asymmetrical power relations between Japan and Korea but never suggests any meaningful measures—except for Japan’s “benevolence” and Korean’s belief in Japan’s “good” intentions—for transforming that asymmetry into the Ilchinhoe’s new proposal for a “union for equality, coexistence, and eternal peace.” This 1909 announcement to the Korean people begins with the Ilchinhoe’s diagnosis of Korea’s crisis. Its opening remarks accommodate the language of Korean ethnic nationalism articulated during the late protectorate period, by noting that the Korean nation has a history stretching back four thousand years to Tan’gun, the mythical founder of Old Choson, and that it stands on the great foundation of the five hundred years since T’aejo, the first king of the Choson dynasty. The Ilchinhoe recognize that the “twenty million brethren” of the Korean nation are full of patriotic spirit (choguk chongsin) to make their country independent, to free the people, and to elevate the status of the country in the theater of world competition. But the Ilchinhoe writers claim that this patriotic spirit cannot solve Korea’s crisis, arguing that if the people cannot evaluate the circumstances and act at the right time, they will confront selfinvited peril. Calling its diagnosis of Korea’s crisis “realistic,” the 1909 announcement compares Korea’s destiny to that of slaves who can neither die nor live independently, no matter how much they want to. The announcement blames Korea’s tragedy entirely on Korean “faults” and renders the country’s history between 1894 and 1909 as follows: in the 1894 Sino-Japanese War, Japan spent huge sums and suffered tens of thousands of casualties in order to consolidate “Korea’s independence from China.” But Koreans failed to defend this foundation because Korea’s politics were corrupt and Koreans distrusted Japan’s “friendship.” In the Russo-Japanese War, Japan spent ten times more than in 1894 for “the peace of the East.” But Koreans again did not trust their “good neighbor” Japan and kept creating “problems.” As a result, Korea conceded the right of diplomacy to Japan and reached the protectorate treaty. Then Koreans caused the “troubles” of the Hague Incident and signed the 1907 agreement. The 1909 announcement called all these situations ones that Koreans had brought upon themselves. Moreover, during the protectorate rule, Koreans com-

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peted over profits while violent bandits—apparently a reference to anti-Japanese guerrillas—swept the country. The protectorate governor, Ito Hirobumi, tried to “guide” the Korean people and Crown Prince Sunjong. But Koreans then caused the “ill disaster” at Harbin (i.e., Ito’s assassination there on October 28, 1909) and infuriated the Japanese public without realizing how this “disaster” would endanger Korea. The Ilchinhoe statement then attributes the reason for these “faults” to Korea’s “tyranny,” stating, “Koreans are a people who have not enjoyed freedom. Thus, there are those who have to take the responsibility for those faults.” And the statement presents its logic for demanding Korea’s “surrender” to “reality.” The Korean government had already lost autonomy in diplomacy, finance, military command, and legislation. Meanwhile, Japanese public opinion wanted a fundamental resolution of the “problem”—namely, the colonization of Korea. The Ilchinhoe insisted that at this life-and-death moment, Korea’s primary goals were “the maintenance of the Korean royal house and the welfare of the Korean people.” To preserve the royal house and help the Korean people enjoy the status of first-rate citizens without discrimination, Koreans must request that Korea and Japan form a “grand political institution.” The 1909 announcement holds that, through this act, Korea will shed the shame of its inferior status under the protectorate and create a political union, or federation, in which Koreans will be able to acquire legally equal political status and rights. The Ilchinhoe express “worry” as to whether the Japanese imperial house, government, and public will agree to this proposal of a political union. But the writers conclude that the prospects of reaching such an agreement will depend on the “sincere efforts of the Korean nation in requesting to Japan this vision all together.” If this vision is realized, the statement concludes on a hopeful note, the two parties (Korea and Japan) will soar together, and Koreans will be able to escape the status of slaves. Thus the Ilchinhoe maintained that a political union (chong happang) could secure the Korean royal house and the equal treatment of Korean and Japanese citizens, in exchange for ceding the Korean state’s sovereignty in foreign and domestic relations. This is reminiscent of the “logic of collaboration” in the 1905 Ilchinhoe proclamation, which called the people’s welfare “substantial” and formal sovereignty “nominal.” The Ilchinhoe provided some details about such a political union in an editorial published in its official newspaper, the New National Daily (Kungmin sinbo). The editorial divides states into two kinds, simple and complex. It cites Germany and Austria-Hungary as examples of complex states—countries in which more than two states are combined and share the crown, sovereignty, or government institutions. The complex states are also

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divided into two categories: federations (yonbang) and confederations (kyolhapkuk). A federation has common institutions, but each component country can preserve its autonomy in foreign relations and independently sign treaties and engage in diplomatic exchanges. A confederation is a single sovereign state formed by a union of several states and includes confederations of princely states, political unions, unions of the people (hapjungguk), protectorates, and annexed entities. The editorial defines its proposal for Korea and Japan as a political union in which each constituent country could preserve autonomy in its internal government but would be united in foreign relations.82 However, the 1909 Ilchinhoe statement did not reflect this editorial’s theory of political union, never mentioning Korea’s autonomy in domestic government; instead, preservation of the royal house and the equal treatment of the Korean people were the only two explicit conditions for the “union” the Ilchinhoe proposed between Korea and Japan.

The Influence of Tarui Tokichi: The Great East Asian Union The Ilchinhoe’s theory of political union had an affinity with the ideas of Tarui Tokichi (1850–1922), one of the earliest Japanese Pan-Asianists.83 According to an Imperial Gazetteer report in August 1904, his book appears to have been read or known among Koreans before the protectorate period. This article reports the case of one Korean called Song in a legal dispute with the Japanese Legation. Song defended his case by mentioning Tarui’s name and his theory calling for the harmony of the three East Asian countries.84 The Tonghak leaders Son Pyong-hui and Yi Yong-gu may have absorbed aspects of the Japanese Pan-Asianist discourse during their visits to Japan in the early 1900s. Although Tarui’s writings particularly influenced Yi Yong-gu, it does not appear that Yi read Tarui until later, because Yi and Son’s writings during the early protectorate era do not echo Tarui’s

82. So Yong-hui, “Kungmin Sinbo rul t’onghae pon Ilchinhoe ui happangnon kwa happang chongguk ui tonghyang,” Yoksa wa Hyonsil 69 (2008): 37–38. 83. Tarui Tokichi’s political career as a Pan-Asianist began when he went to China during the outbreak of the Sino-French War in 1884. Considering the war to be a crisis of the East, Tarui joined other Japanese to establish the first educational institute (Toyo Gakkan) in China. His interest shifted to the Korean issue when he returned to Japan in the same year. Tarui frequently visited the Korean refugee Kim Ok-kyun and communicated with Genyosha leaders over the Korea issue. See the preface to Tarui Tokichi, Daito Gapporon (hereafter DTGR) (Tokyo: Choryo Shorin, repr., 1975; originally published in 1892; reprinted in 1910 with a new introduction); Takeuchi Yoshimi, ed., Ajia Shugi (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo,1963), pp. 33–34; Vipin Chandra, “An Outline Study of the Ilchinhoe of Korea,” Occasional Papers on Korea 2 (March 1974), pp. 50–51. 84. IG, “Song ssi kongan,” August 2, 1904, 03-02.

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work but advocate an Asianist alliance of the three East Asian countries, an idea that had circulated among Korean intellectuals since the 1890s.85 Tarui wrote the first draft of his book, On the Theory of Uniting the Great East, in 1885, while he was involved in the popular rights movement. The draft was lost when Tarui was imprisoned. He rewrote the work and published it in the Jiyu Byodo Keirin (The Journal of Debating Liberty and Equality) in 1890, later publishing it as a book in 1893. A second edition was published with the author’s new preface in 1910, the year of the Japanese annexation of Korea.86 The book was written in plain classical Chinese to gain a wide readership among both Korean and Chinese thinkers. According to Tarui, the Chinese progressive intellectual Liang Qichao published Tarui’s book in China and wrote its preface with his praise of Tarui’s federation theory. Tarui’s book was not successful in Japan. However, Tarui claimed that its Shanghai edition sold up to a hundred thousand copies. He stated that a thousand copies were distributed in Korea and that both hand-copied and printed versions were widely circulated.87 Tarui’s ideas mixed Eastern classics with Western sociology. He relied on the cosmology of The Book of Changes in proposing a notion of temporality and history. This may have eased the way for former Tonghaks to accept Tarui’s thought. For instance, Tarui quotes The Book of Changes to criticize Darwin’s theory of the survival of the fittest. He considers both harmony and competition to be important in creation and change, comparing the interactions of harmony and competition with those of yin (dark or female elements) and yang (bright or male elements). Yet harmony is primary in human progress, Tarui argues, and “society takes harmony to be its doctrine [ti] and struggle to be its practice [yong].”88 This injection of Eastern classics does not mean that Tarui’s political concerns differed from those of other Japanese Pan-Asianists. Like others, he stressed Japan’s insecurity in the face of Western incursions and the power imbalance between East and West. Tarui also reiterated the “superior” stage of Japan’s civilization vis-à-vis Korean and Chinese backwardness. His voice became unambiguous when he argued that Russia was the most dangerous threat. He considered the disunity among Japan, China, and Korea to be the major impediment to coping with this threat. Tarui attributed this disunity to China’s “arrogance” and its “contempt” toward other countries. This went hand in hand with his emphasis on Japan’s new leadership and its mission to “enlighten” Korea and China.89

85. Yi Kwangnin, “Kaehwagi Han’gugin ui Asia Yondaeron,” Han’guksa Yon’gu 61–62 (1988): 285–299. 86. DTGR, 2nd preface of the 1st edition, pp. 7, 189–191. 87. Ibid., p. 203. 88. Ibid., p. 12. 89. Ibid., pp. 56–110.

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Although Tarui denigrated Chinese and Korean civilization, his political propositions were bold and radical compared with those of the more reactionary Japanese Pan-Asianists of later periods. He envisioned an Eastern union and emphasized “equality” within that union. He argued that the union should adopt the new name “The Great East” to avoid discriminating against any one country within it. Tarui thought it crucial that the union be founded on a formal agreement based on the equality of each member and that it guarantee the political participation of the people from all the federated countries. He argued: “The vital point lies in making it equal and fair for each country to use its right to autonomy and self-governance. If one country monopolizes this right, the others could not claim their rights sufficiently. This would not be different from destroying the other countries.”90 Yi Yong-gu, for his part, insisted that his goal was to institute Tarui’s proposition for the Eastern union, which would be based on equality and fraternity. Yet Tarui himself gave up this vision when he faced Japanese criticism that his argument ruled out the prospect of Japanese rule in Korea. The author’s notes to the second edition of the book therefore deny the radical implications of Tarui’s earlier “federation” theory. He abandoned the principle of equality in his conception of a federation and did not mention the need for equal political participation of the people from all three Eastern countries. Instead, Tarui exalted the central importance of the Japanese emperor in the federation.91

The People’s Rights and the State’s Sovereignty: The Ilchinhoe’s Opponents The 1904 Ilchinhoe manifesto stressed the people’s rights in terms of political participation and demanded the freedoms required for such political roles, although it did not exclude the universal human rights of each individual person. Among the various ideological strands presented in the Independent, what had broader and more enduring resonance was the notion that promotion of the people’s rights was the essential condition for strengthening the country. The Imperial Gazetteer did support the promotion of popular rights as long as they did not violate the rights of the government.92 What, then, are the rights of the people, and how are these divided from those of the government? Various groups in protectorate Korea had different answers to these questions. 90. Ibid., p. 126. 91. Ibid., pp. 189–190; Hatada Takashi, Ilbonin ui Hankukkwan [Nihonjin no Chosenkan, originally published in 1969 and translated into Korean] (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1983), pp. 54–59. 92. IG, September 16, 1898, p. 1.

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The Ilchinhoe statements and public letters use the phrase “the independence of Korea” but do not conceive of sovereignty as precluding foreign intervention. They see reform as more important than the preservation of the state’s sovereignty itself. The Ilchinhoe debated this position with the prime minister of the Korean government, Sin Ki-son, in the fall and winter of 1904 and with his successor, Min Yong-hwan, in March 1905. In September 1904, the Ilchinhoe sent a letter to Prime Minister Sin that briefly outlined the Ilchinhoe’s political theory, as follows: land (t’oji) is the basic element (wonso) of the state, and the people (inmin) are its basic energy (won’gi). The state’s politics and law (chongbop) are the institutions that vitalize the energy of the people. These institutions are mediated (alson) by the government. Like the flow of rivers and seas, narrowminded or obsolete law and politics can lead the people to become corrupt, just as hampering the flow of rivers and seas makes things rot in the water. Because politics and law in Korea had been in a bad state and stagnant for a long time, the Ilchinhoe letter continues, the people—the state’s principal energy—suffered from this impasse. Using the metaphor of “wriggling worms” in “empty [husks of] grain,” the Ilchinhoe described government officials as “useless but hard to remove.” However, their letter is optimistic, noting that “strong winds of new civilization from the ‘East and the West’ will scatter those empty [husks of] grains all over the place” and will return the land to the “hands of the enlightened” (kaemyonja sujung). Calling Korea a “dying patient,” this letter prescribes the Ilchinhoe’s “four-point platform” (sadae kangnyong) as good medicine to help Korea recover from the emergency.93 Prime Minister Sin responded that the Ilchinhoe’s recommendation should include suggestions that were more concrete than the four general points. The Ilchinhoe representatives replied that the people are obliged to make general suggestions and asked why the minister wanted the people to replace the role of the government in making policies. Condemning the Ilchinhoe’s “inability” to make specific policy suggestions when given the chance to do so, Sin said that “the good people in the country” considered the Ilchinhoe’s response “strange.”94 He then criticized the Ilchinhoe’s position on sovereignty and reform. According to Sin, the body of a state (kukch’e) depends on its independence, and Korea’s most urgent task was to protect the state’s autonomy (chajujikwon). Sin asked why the Ilchinhoe’s platform never mentioned this issue. The Ilchinhoe representatives replied that the world had already acknowledged Korea’s independence (chon segye hwaginja) and that its preservation depended on accomplishing the Ilchinhoe’s four-point platform. The Ilchinhoe did not see Japan’s intervention 93. IH, 1:5. 94. The Korea Daily News reported this meeting. KD, September 15 and 19, 1904.

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in Korea as infringing on Korea’s sovereignty. Without providing a further answer to the minister’s question on sovereignty, the Ilchinhoe after this meeting started their popular mobilization for tax resistance on a national scale.95 The Ilchinhoe also submitted to the prime minister a list of incumbent provincial governors and other high government officials whom the group accused of being guilty of corruption or other misconduct.96 The Ilchinhoe resumed its debate with Prime Minister Sin in a second letter, sent to him in December 1904. The issue this time was the relationship between the people and the government. The Ilchinhoe’s letter discusses the local-central relations in the Choson dynasty and its decay in the nineteenth century. According to the letter, the government of past reigns had been “benevolent” because people had autonomously ruled themselves, while the government (kwan) had given only general orders. Prefectural heads, county directors (hon), and village leaders (idu) in local areas were given responsibility for local administration. Only when these local leaders made mistakes did the government and magistrates intervene and correct them. If magistrates abused their power, the central government punished them and fixed matters. At the end of the nineteenth century, however, the letter continues, this “old good” system had fallen prey to problems that could not be easily corrected. The letter then shifts focus to stress the importance of the people’s participation in government administration. In many countries of the world, it claims, when the government makes good policies, they are agreed to by the people. However, if the government makes confusing or bad policies, then the country should be ruled together with the people (kyomch’i). The Ilchinhoe letter argues that this common rule is acknowledged by international law (man’guk kongpop). The urgent task in Korea was to unite the government and the people and let them progress together toward an “enlightened” and “civilized” stage for the country. To achieve this unity, the Ilchinhoe letter asserts, the government should follow what the people hope and wish. “What the people hope” refers not just to what each individual wants but to what the people collectively demand. Of the ten million men in the Korean nation, the Ilchinhoe letter claims, half had united in associations, and their wishes were that “each individual could protect his life and property [in chi saengmyong chaesan] and eternally enjoy freedom and rights.” Therefore, from now on, the Ilchinhoe asks, the government should permit freedom for people to protect their property and lives.97

95. IH, 1:7–8. 96. Ibid., 1:11–12. 97. Ibid., 1:49–50.

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In his reply, Prime Minister Sin recognized that people had assembled to warn the government of its mistakes. He also understood that their recommendations might have originated from their need to secure the necessities for living. However, in Sin’s estimation, these people were not simply making suggestions but insulting government officials. In petitions to the government that they circulated widely to the public, Sin points out, they even swore that they would not share the same heaven with the government, meaning that they felt they could not coexist with government officials. To Sin, these people were trying to “exterminate the government” (chol chongbu) rather than strengthen it, and as a result he wonders how this behavior could be said to lie within the duty of the people.98 Prime Minister Sin, however, accepts the Ilchinhoe’s idea that the people are entitled to the “freedom to protect property and life,” though he differentiates this from the people’s “general freedom of action.” This led to the official recognition, on December 14, 1904, of the Ilchinhoe’s right to promote its four-point platform. The Ilchinhoe held a special assembly to celebrate this recognition.99 But this did not lessen the Ilchinhoe’s conflicts with the Korean government. The Ilchinhoe continued its debate about the people’s “freedom of action” with Prime Minister Min Yong-hwan in the spring of 1905. This sharp debate occurred in the midst of the Korean emperor’s persecution of the popular assemblies. The Ilchinhoe’s letter to the government to protest this repression included the assertions that self-defense is “a naturally endowed right recognized by the public of the world” (segye konggong ui ch’onbu kwolli) and that “under violent government repression, free actions of the people are inevitable.”100 Prime Minister Min saw the people’s “freedom of action” (chayu haengdong) as unacceptable for the government. He therefore ordered his staff official (the chamsogwan of Uijongbu) to return the letter along with the reply that the phrase “freedom of action” violated the “proper duty of the people” (inmin ui ponbun). The Ilchinhoe wrote back that the prime minister had missed its broader concerns about government repression and had focused on the “impropriety” of a single phrase. The Ilchinhoe then resubmitted its original letter to the prime minister.101 To protest government repression, the Ilchinhoe also wrote a letter in the spring of 1905 to the Japanese Legation, the Japanese army, and the military police.102 The Ilchinhoe insisted that the Korean government was killing Ilchinhoe members and had remained blind to the group’s reform proposals in the eight

98. Ibid., 1:55–56. The Korea Daily News (December 16, 1904) reported this Ilchinhoe debate with Prime Minister Sin. 99. KD, December 14, 1904. 100. IH, 2:44. 101. Ibid., 2:45–46. 102. Ibid., 2:41–45.

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months since its opening assembly the previous August. While Japan was fighting “to eliminate the violence of the Russians,” the letter insisted, the Ilchinhoe was campaigning “to cleanse evil officials,” and its several hundred thousand members were struggling to find a way to survive. Furthermore, when “evil” officials killed Ilchinhoe members, “self-defense is a legitimate and natural right that each of the people could claim,” and, it asserted, the people’s “free actions” (chayu haengdong) were unavoidable.103 The letter asked Japan to understand the Ilchinhoe’s “cause” and to regard the group not as Japan’s enemies but as its friends. In the letter, the Ilchinhoe worry that government officials will ultimately “butcher the people’s life” and state that such officials should not be called “brethren” (tongp’o). The Ilchinhoe also demanded that Koreans recognize these officials as a “species outside the nation” and never obey them.104 This intense confrontation with the Korean government dominated the Ilchinhoe’s politics in 1904 and 1905, although the group’s public statements emphasized unity between the government and the people for preserving Korean independence. In 1904 and 1905, the Imperial Gazetteer called the Ilchinhoe “the party of popular rights” and reported its activities with an objective tone. Beginning in 1906, however, it gave more coverage to the Great Korean Association of SelfStrengthening (Taehan Chaganghoe) and subsequently to the Great Korean Association (Taehan Hyophoe). The Imperial Gazetteer often printed the speeches of Ogake Takeo, the Japanese advisor of these two Korean associations. Ogake’s ideas on popular rights did not concur with what had been stated in the Korean discourses on popular rights.105 Ogake explicitly privileged the rights of the government (kwankwon) and assigned a more limited and subordinate role to the rights of the people than the Korean reformers had proposed. According to Ogake, kwan’gwon refers to the rights of the government office, which carries on the affairs of the state. Thus kwankwon means the right to implement state affairs and contains the “natural authority of the state.” Minkwon refers to the naturally endowed rights of the people. Insofar as people do not harm the interests of others or impede the public interest, they are free and enjoy “the rights [kwolli] of residence, conduct, business, and religion.” After providing this definition, Ogaki continues with the idea—already well circulated in the Independent—that the rights of the people are important to strengthen the state. This recipe for national growth certainly resonated with the Korean reformist discourse.

103. Ibid., 2:43. 104. Ibid., 1:45–46. 105. IG, November 20, 1906, p. 3.

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However, Ogaki’s discussion on freedom does not correspond with those of the Ilchinhoe, the Independent, and other Korean reformers in the Imperial Gazetteer. Ogaki never mentions the political freedoms, and even his listed rights could be easily restrained if they conflict with the interests of the state. Ogaki defines the rights of residence as follows: if people are born to this world and live in the land, they have the right of residence insofar as they do not violate the state laws. But to meet the needs of the state, this right of residence could be limited if the sacrifice of private freedom would contribute to the public interest. Here Ogaki raises the example of the disputes on railway construction, which were serious at the time in Korea. If a person’s residence is located on the railway lines or inside the areas of confiscation for public use, freedom of residence could be forfeited, with compensation of costs. Also according to Ogaki, the rights of conduct mean that people can freely do what they wish if they do not violate the interests of others or the public interest; the rights of business are the rights to choose one’s occupation—commerce, agriculture, or whatever the individual wishes; and the rights of religion mean that what one believes cannot be forced by others. Ogaki’s rights of conduct may include the freedom of speech, publication, assembly, and association encapsulated in the Ilchinhoe manifesto. But Ogaki does not mention these freedoms at all when (or because) they were restrained in Korea by the Japanese protectorate. Ogaki instead discusses the political rights in a lesser tone. Because the people pay money for the expenses of the state, Ogaki argues, they have the right to decide the amounts of money to pay and the methods of collection for state expenses. Here, he does not spell out the term “tax.” According to Ogaki, the management of policies is delegated to government offices, which are the “agents of the ruler,” but the people have an interest in knowing whether such management goes well or goes wrong. Thus, the people have the right to have their representatives, and the people should be able to participate in politics and monitor this management.106 Ogaki’s defense of representative politics is more conservative than the Korean reformist discourse of the time, which at least partially recognized popular sovereignty, arguing that the people participate in the construction of the state and therefore have the right to voice their opinions on the state’s affairs or to form the “common rule” of the state with the monarch. Japanese ideas of the emperor state overshadow Ogaki’s theory of popular rights. To him, the ruler of the state is the emperor (ch’onja) who has received the Mandate of Heaven, and his mandated duty (ch’onjik) is to protect the people and help them live their lives. The government offices as the “agents of the emperor” conduct the affairs of the state and fulfill the duty of protecting the people. 106. Ibid., November 21, 1906, p. 3.

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If government officials abuse their power and maltreat the people, they cannot avoid being blamed as criminals of the emperor and bandits of the people. Ogaki conceives the existing law as the criterion defining the rights of the people and the rights of the government. The law defines agreements between the state and the people and the relationships among the people. Because of the law, the government and the people do not interfere with each other and can make efforts together to develop the state’s civilization, wealth, and strength. He concludes that “each individual is a unit of the state organization and responsible for the state’s financial expenses” and that “the interests of the state are vital for the life of the people.” Ogaki’s utterly state-centered argument had not been prominent in the Korean reformist discourse, at least up to the later protectorate period.107 The Korean reformers did not dislike Ogaki and must have been influenced by his ideas. But the Korean reformist discourse in the Imperial Gazetteer and Korea Daily News did not echo Ogaki’s reverence for the emperor or belief in the state’s privilege to restrain the people’s freedom. On the contrary, the Korean elite discourse became more affirmative of popular sovereignty, along with articulating nationalism in defense of Korea’s sovereignty. In the Korean elite discourse, the term “the people’s rights” (minkwon) was exchanged for the term “the rights of nationals” (kungmin) and cited along with the concept of “the people’s government” (inmin ui chongbu). In the final two years of the protectorate, however, this shift in the Korean elite discourse moved in the direction of denying the rights of the people outside a sovereign nation. The nation is called the single location that the people’s rights can inhabit. The term kwankwon (the rights of the government) yielded its appeal to kukkwon (the sovereignty of the state), and minkwon yielded to kungmin ui kwonhan (the rights of nationals). At this juncture, Rousseau’s Social Contract, translated into Korean as Minyangnon, was advertised, and its précis quoted. In comparison to the Imperial Gazetteer, the Korea Daily News had been more cautious about the promotion of popular rights that could harm the sovereignty of the state. As mentioned previously, the Korea Daily News had satirized the Ilchinhoe and its nickname, the “People’s Rights Party” (Minkwondang). Following the emergence of the Taehan Chaganghoe, the Korea Daily News endorsed the need for a “fresh party of the people” that could help the recovery of the state’s sovereignty and replace the current Ilchinhoe.108 Toward the end of the protectorate, the Korea Daily News suggested the idea of a national republic. Its March 107. Ibid., “Min’gwon ui Yoha,” April 18, 1908, p. 1. 108. KD, November 27, 1907, p. 2.

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1909 article entitled “Words Calling for the People’s Rights” laid out the desire for freedom and popular sovereignty as follows: Come back, you, the people’s rights! In the old land of our ancestor Tan’gun, we assemble the Korean nation, the twenty million people, and call for your spirit and wait for you. The people’s rights, you are our life, hands, and friends. The human race in the world can live if they have you. If they lose you, they will die. [In the past,] the crowd made the contract and delegated the “government” to those who had good knowledge. Then there appeared the king, the government, and the state. The people created the state in order to protect their rights and installed the government. It is the natural right of the people that they are entrusted to the state for obtaining welfare and benefits [pongni]. . . . In the past, due to some wicked thieves to the people, you left us, and the state has made us weak and deteriorating. But the good news began in the corners of England and France. . . . You ran across the European continent, sailed to America, and recovered the people’s rights there. The brethren of Europe and America are now holding your hands. You did not forget the nations in Asia, crossed the Pacific, and helped the Japanese nation recover their rights. Our Korean peninsula is suffering from the oppression of the government worsening day by day. As you seek water when you are thirsty, only you can save us from the repression of the evil government. If not you, then the life and body of the weak nation cannot be rescued. You, please come back and protect the rights that Heaven bestowed upon the people, and restore the state of the people, the government of the people, and the law of the people. Oh, the rights of the people!109 This affirmation of popular sovereignty coincided with the Imperial Gazetteer’s advertisement of Rousseau’s Social Contract, calling him an outstanding thinker who exalted the people’s rights in the world. This August 1909 article, prominently placed on the first page of the newspaper, began by saying that “within the sacred [Korean] empire, discussion about a republic has been prohibited from the past to now” and that the translator did not intend to worship foreign customs. However, the article recommended The Social Contract for being clever in crafting its language and “profound” in its meanings. The article then introduced the concept of democracy (minju) and defined a democratic country as a place where the people reside and all together govern the country.110 109. Ibid., “Minkwon ul purunun kul,” March 17, 1909, p. 1. Emphasis added. 110. IG, August 4, 1909, p. 1.

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On the eve of Korea’s annexation, in June 1910, the Korea Daily News sealed this discussion on popular rights by presenting the idea of a national republic as Rousseau had done. The newspaper wrote that it would be impossible and foolish for some people to seek the people’s rights outside the sovereignty of the state. Presumably targeting the Ilchinhoe, the article stated that “stupid crowds” joyfully sought to obtain popular rights even when they were watching the end of their country being placed into the hands of others. The Korea Daily News noted, “The sovereignty of the state [kukkwon] is the source of the popular rights, and the latter is the child of the former.”111 Its June 1910 article calls the rights of the people “the rights of nationals” (kungmin ui kwonhan). The nation must be given sovereignty, and the rights of nationals mean the “collective power of the nation,” the sovereignty of Korea.112 Another article in the Korea Daily News a few days later, titled “The Ideas of Patriots,” concluded that “the country is built by the assembly of the people” and that the people have a duty to love their country as well as their rights in the nation.113

An Illusion: Empire as “Popular Union” As seen in this chapter, the Ilchinhoe adopted the political language of the Independence Club and put it into action, advocating the people’s rights, their freedom of speech and political participation, the establishment of advisory associations for government, and the vision of a national assembly. The Ilchinhoe’s cultural practices and radical discourses had complicated social reverberations and soon faced nationalist critiques, which ridiculed members’ new haircuts and reforms as “absurd,” “pathetic,” and “traitorous.” Meanwhile, the Ilchinhoe’s formal statements shifted along with the different stages of the Japanese protectorate rule in Korea, exposing several dimensions of inconsistency. Most of all, the group’s formal statements conveyed the fears of once-defeated political outcasts and avoided explicitly asserting a democratic position. The Ilchinhoe’s official statements thus never explicitly criticized the monarchy. The group’s ambiguous rhetoric belied its mode of popular actions, however, which sharply antagonized the monarchy as a “tyranny” and demonized government officials. The 1904 Ilchinhoe manifesto replicated the position of the Independent to a great degree. The group then set forth a “logic of collaboration” in its 1905 proc-

111. KD, October 26, 1909. 112. Ibid., “Kungmin ui kwonhan,” June 19, 1910, p. 1. 113. Ibid., “Aegukcha ui sasang,” June 28, 1910, p. 1.

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lamation, arguing that the limitations of human agency lead one to choose dependence rather than self-reliance as a means to achieve one’s goals. In this logic of “independence through dependence,” the Ilchinhoe divided “the substance of independence” from the state’s external sovereignty, prioritizing reform of the government and the people’s welfare over Korea’s formal independence. The political viability of this logic depended entirely on the premise that Korea’s powerful “ally,” Japan, was sincerely committed to the goals of its dependent country. The Ilchinhoe’s changing rhetoric reveals the difficulties inherent in resolving the conflicts between the group’s original position and its subordination to the Japanese. As the group conceded its reformist proposals to the demands of collaboration, it lost political ground and found itself trapped between the criticism of Korean nationalists and the colonial constraints of the Japanese. The Ilchinhoe’s advocacy of Japan’s “good intentions” did not persuade the Korean people, and the movement’s promotion of the people’s political participation became unrealistic in the context of the protectorate driving forward the Japanese colonization of Korea. The postmodernist philosopher Michel Foucault wrote, “There can be no possible exercise of power without a certain economy of discourses of truth which operates through and on the basis of this association.”114 The Ilchinhoe’s politics exposed a constant dissociation between its discourse and its politics and also between its original political claims and their consequences. This dissociation went as far as its “fantasy” of a political union, presented in 1909, which had no realistic basis in the imminent annexation of Korea by Japan but functioned only as an “excuse” for Japan’s justification of the conquest. The displacement and the inadequacy of the Ilchinhoe’s discourse in the emerging colonial administration lead one to question the relevance of the argument that “colonial subjects and their modes of resistance are formed within the organizational terrain of the colonial state, rather than [within] some wholly exterior social space.”115 The Ilchinhoe’s politics did not reside within the realm of colonial administration, regardless of the group’s ongoing loyalty to the emerging colonial power.

114. Michel Foucault, “Two Lectures,” in Colin Gordon, ed., Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972–1977 (New York: Pantheon Books, 1972), p. 113. 115. Timonthy Mitchell, Colonizing Egypt (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), p. xi.

5 THE POPULIST CONTEST The Ilchinhoe’s Tax Resistance, 1904–1907

The elite records of protectorate Korea, whether written in Korean or Japanese, depict the Ilchinhoe’s movement with scorn, abhorrence, and anxiety. It is hard to grasp how the Ilchinhoe emerged as a strong popular organization in a short period of time if we reference the portraits of the group in the records of the Korean court, the media of the elite reformers, or even the documents of the Japanese protectorate. While the people’s rights (minkwon) were reiterated both in the Ilchinhoe’s statements and in the discourse of the elite reformers, the word directed a very concrete course of actions in the movements of local Ilchinhoe members. The “protection of the people’s property and life” in the Ilchinhoe’s platform carried the concept’s political connotation, confrontation with government officials, bequeathed from the Independent but hardly conveying the elite reformers’ reservation on the people’s capacity and adequacy for representing their own rights and interests. On the contrary, minkwon for the Ilchinhoe members justified actions to direct the government in accordance with their will and wishes.1 In this sense, the Ilchinhoe’s minkwon signaled a populist track, and tax resistance movements of local Ilchinhoe members testified to that orientation. The Ilchinhoe’s public discourse fell short of articulating sophisticated democratic ideas, yet its movements successfully garnered popular support, at least 1. William H. Riker, Liberalism against Populism: A Confrontation between the Theory of Democracy and the Theory of Social Choice (San Francisco: W. H. Freeman, 1982), pp. 238–239.

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during the first half of the protectorate period. Some anecdotes from this resistance movement suggest that the Ilchinhoe’s haircutting ceremonies symbolized not only their commitment to “civilizing” Korea but also their nationwide mobilization for the economic and political interests of “the people.” For instance, when Ilchinhoe members refused to pay taxes in Pongsan, Hwanghae Province, the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan), Kim Hui-gyong, reproached them, asking how they dared to interfere with tax collection by the government. Ilchinhoe members replied that the purpose of their haircutting was “to reject such [wrong] directives in tax collection even if they were from the government.”2 This conveys the sentiment of ordinary Ilchinhoe members in joining the organization and in opposing government officials. It is misleading to dismiss this Ilchinhoe-led upheaval as sheer Japanese manipulation or amorphous movements of opportunists. Among the reformers of the period, the Ilchinhoe put forth a non-elitist course, which addressed the material grievances of the populace rather than castigating the people’s “ignorance” and stressing the urgency of their “education.” The Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement occurred between 1904 and 1907. The Ilchinhoe leadership discontinued tax resistance in 1907 because the Japanese protectorate began installing its new tax collecting agency in 1906 and prohibited the Ilchinhoe’s involvement in tax administration. But some Ilchinhoe members left records of tax resistance even in mid-1907 until the Korean government stopped producing its records due to the protectorate’s direct control of Korea’s internal administration. This chapter traces in detail the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement in the northwestern provinces and identifies its leadership as “populist.”3 Since Vipan Chandra’s 1974 article recognized the Ilchinhoe’s reformist platform and its PanAsianist orientation,4 dozens of studies have presented diverse interpretations of the Ilchinhoe’s movement. According to these studies, the Ilchinhoe members were Tonghak followers influenced by the discourse of “civilization and enlightenment”;5 their movement had elements of the class movement led by 2. KSTN, 25:673. 3. The earlier study on the Ilchinhoe’s collaboration is Cho Hang-nae, Han’guk sahoe danch’esa non’go (Taegu: Hyongsol ch’ulp’ansa, 1972). For a brief summary of previous studies on the Ilchinhoe, see Nagashima Hiroki, “Isshinkai no Katsudo to sono Tenkai,” Nenpo Chosengaku, no. 5 (July 1995): 62–63. 4. Vipan Chandra, “An Outline Study of the Ilchin-hoe (Advanced Society) of Korea,” Occasional Papers on Korea 2 (March 1974). 5. Yi Un-hui and Kim Kyong-t’aek clarify the connection between the Tonghak religion and the Ilchinhoe movement. They repudiate the assumption that separated the pro-Japanese Ilchinhoe from the upheavals of Tonghak followers between 1904 and 1906, arguing that the Tonghak leaders accepted the discourse of civilization and enlightenment and established a “pro-Japanese” stance

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the “indigenous bourgeoisie,” whose objective was “anti-feudal”;6 they were a “faction of commoners” who competed with Yi Wan-yong’s group of privileged aristocrats within the pro-Japanese Korean cabinet under the protectorate;7 they were even “nationalists” who aimed at building a Korean nation-state and deliberately chose collaboration to achieve this goal;8 or they were the “popular rights faction (minkwonp’a)” among the Korean elites influenced by the “civilization and enlightenment discourse.”9 Japanese scholars have approached the Ilchinhoe’s movement, especially its conflicts with conservative local elites, within a framework of tradition versus modernity.10 For example, Nagashima Hiroki studied more than one hundred Ilchinhoe schools established in local areas,11 and argues that their curricula damaged the interests of the local literati (chaeji yurim) in charge of sodang (traditional elementary schools).12 Nagashima calls the Ilchinhoe “modernizing” forces,13 and the anti-Ilchinhoe activities of the Righteous Armies “reactions” (hansayo) to the Ilchinhoe “modernizers.”14 Based on the Japanese sources,

prior to the Russo-Japanese War. Yi Un-hui, “Tonghak kyodan ui ‘kapchin kaehwa undong (1904– 1906)’ e taehan yon’gu,” MA thesis, Yonsei University, 1990; Kim Kyongt’aek, “Hanmal Tonghak kyomun ui chongch’i sasang yon’gu,” MA thesis, Yonsei University, 1990. 6. Yi Un-hui ascribes the conflicts within the Ilchinhoe organization to class conflicts, assuming that the objectives of its leaders, the “nascent bourgeoisie,” contradicted those of the majority of the former Tonghak rebels, who were peasants. 7. Han Myong-gun and Moriyama Shigenori call the Ilchinhoe the organization of “commoners” and show that there were rivalries between the two major groups of collaborators, namely, Yi Wanyong’s faction and the Ilchinhoe. They argue that these confrontations reflect the social status differences between Yi’s faction and the Ilchinhoe: the Choson dynasty’s aristocrats’ yangban and the commoners (p’yongmin), respectively. Moriyama Shigenori, Kindai Nikkan Kankeishi Kenkyu (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1987); Han Myonggun, “Ilje ui Han’guk ch’imnyangnon kwa Han’guk chongch’i seryok ui taeung,” PhD diss., Sungsil University, 2000. 8. Kim Tong-myong argues that the Ilchinhoe members considered an indigenous path to “civilize” Korea “impossible” and decided to rely on Japan’s “cooperation” for building the Korean nation-state. According to this perspective, the Ilchinhoe members had the same goals as other Korean reformist elites but differed in the degree of their reliance on Japan. 9. Kim Chong-jun’s book made arguments similar to those originally presented in my dissertation in November 2005, including discussion of the Ilchinhoe’s imitation of the Independence Club, the dynamics and politics of its tax resistance, and the schools associated with Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance. Kim’s book indirectly criticizes my dissertation without adequately acknowledging its main discovery. However, Kim’s designation of minkwonp’a helps me further clarify how the Ilchinhoe differed from other elite reformers. Some of my response to Kim’s tacit criticism is included in Chapters 4 and 6 in this book. By defining the Ilchinhoe as populist, I point out that their movement had elements that could not be dissolved into the movements of other elite reformers influenced by the discourse of civilization and enlightenment. 10. Tonghak followers in the Ilchinhoe organized Sich’ongyo, a faction of the Tonghak religion after Son P’yonghui, the Supreme Patriarch of the Ch’ondogyo (the renewed title of the Tonghak religion), excommunicated the Ilchinhoe leaders from its organization. 11. Nagashima Hiroki, “Isshinkai no Katsudo to sono Tenkai,” pp. 8–13. 12. Ibid., p. 12. 13. Ibid., pp. 22–23; Hayashi Yusuke, “Undo dantai toshite no Isshinkai,” p. 63. 14. Nagashima Hiroki, “Isshinkai no Katsudo to sono Tenkai,” p. 23.

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Hayashi Yusuke investigates the diverse motives people had for joining the Ilchinhoe and the fluctuations in popular support for the Ilchinhoe movement. Hayashi finds that Ilchinhoe members had various motives, including religious connections (Tonghak), support for the Ilchinhoe’s reformist platform, and opportunistic pursuit of an official position or their own economic interests. Hayashi identifies the Ilchinhoe movement as a “modernizing” force to construct a “modern state founded upon the rule of law” and ascribes the rise and fall of popular support for the Ilchinhoe to the Korean people’s “ambivalence” toward this modernizing process.15 As examined in Chapter 4, the Ilchinhoe’s statements were blurry and ambiguous, sharing many idioms with the elite reformers and permeated with the discourse of civilization and enlightenment. Even if the Ilchinhoe’s statements mention Korea’s independence and patriotism, it is irrelevant to identify the Ilchinhoe as “nationalist,” because they were willing to sacrifice the sovereignty of the Korean state. The framework of modernity versus tradition does not do justice to the complex situations in both the central and local areas of protectorate Korea. Although “underprivileged landlords, merchants” (pit’ukkwon chiju wa pi’t’ukkwon sangin) comprised a good portion of the Ilchinhoe leadership, the dynamics in the Ilchinhoe’s movements did not follow class divisions and class conflicts.16 Ilchinhoe members had conflicts with conservative local elites. But the members’ social status identifications were not exclusively as commoners, and the agendas of their movements were not determined by their opposition to aristocracy. The Ilchinhoe members carried on class interests and retained consciousness of social status, but their movements targeted not the yangban aristocracy or the landlord class in general but the government officials and their local agents. The Ilchinhoe movement used the dichotomy between the people and corrupt government officials to forge solidarity among socially diverse Ilchinhoe members and their followers. The Ilchinhoe leadership identified the people as the “deprived and violated” under the “uncivilized” officials of the “tyranny.” I find this rhetorical and political strategy “populist.” Previous studies have defined the features of populism as a particular “structure of argumentation,” a political style and strategy, and a vague ideological disposition

15. According to Hayashi, the people supported the Ilchinhoe when its efforts to destroy the “pre-modern” system in Korea protected them from abusive and corrupt officials. However, the people eventually became estranged from the Ilchinhoe because its “modernizing” project contradicted their “traditional” practices and norms in land use and other areas. 16. Yi Unhui, “Tonghak kyodan ui ‘kapchin kaehwa undong (1904–1906)’ e taehan yon’gu.”

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without the solid ideological cores found in liberalism or socialism.17 Populists advocate the role of the people and their fundamental importance in a given sociopolitical system. In defining “the people,” populists tend to downplay cleavages within the populace and to stress vertical divides such as that of the masses versus the elites. They normally insist that the established powers in a given society have “betrayed” the ordinary people and “denied them the opportunity to make themselves heard.”18 Populists “claim to speak for the ordinary people,” mobilizing “their resentment against a set of clearly defined enemies.”19 In general, populists appeal to the economic and political interests of the people and instill an “us– them mentality” among their supporters and adversaries.20 Finally, although populist ideologies strongly “repudiate the existing system as serving the interests of the few against those of the many,” they neither articulate ultimate goals nor specifically interlink their goals with capitalism or socialism. This vagueness leaves room for ideological diversity in populist movements and for opportunistic swings by their leaders.21 The Ilchinhoe’s leadership exhibited those populist elements. The group stressed “the people’s rights and interests” and claimed them as a core rationale for the group’s objectives. It demanded that the government acknowledge the Ilchinhoe’s role as “the people’s representatives,” marshaling popular resentment against officials by advertising their personal corruption or immoral conduct. Nevertheless, the Ilchinoe’s reference to “the people” remained ambiguous and was manipulated when the Japanese objected to the group’s mass mobilization. The designation “populism” is useful because the Ilchinhoe movement was neither an extension of traditional rebellion nor a full-blown revolutionary movement with a coherent ideological direction. Korean people at the time experimented with democratic ideas in a very rudimentary way, only to have this progress swiftly become entangled with Japan’s colonization of Korea. This chapter details the scope and dynamics of the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance in the northwestern provinces, who participated in the tax resistance, what their main agendas were, how local Ilchinhoe members interacted with government offi-

17. Hans-Geors Betz and Stefan Immerfall, eds., The New Politics of the Right: Neo-Populist Parties and Movements in Established Democracies (London: Macmillan, 1998), pp. 1–7; Mény and Surel, Democracies and the Populist Challenge, pp. 2–6. 18. Mény and Surel, Democracies and the Populist Challenge, pp. 11–12. 19. Betz and Immerfall, The New Politics of the Right, p. 4. 20. Alan Knight, “Populism and Neo-Populism in Latin America, Especially Mexico,” Journal of Latin American Studies 30, no. 2 (May 1998). 21. Mény and Surel, Democracies and the Populist Challenge, p. 17.

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cials and other local actors, and, finally, what the political ramifications of this mobilization were.

The Tax Policies of the Kwangmu Government The Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement had two goals: eliminating miscellaneous taxes (chapse) and reducing tenant rents imposed on “public lands” (kongt’o).22 The category of miscellaneous taxes (chapse or mumyong chapse) refers to all untitled taxes that were not articulated in the national law. The category of “public lands” (kongt’o) includes lands affiliated with government agencies to support their expenses. Both went through complicated transformations during the Kabo and Kwangmu periods. The widespread dissatisfaction of taxpayers with the results of these transformations constituted the background of popular support for the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement. The Kabo reformers enacted various policies to reform the traditional tax administration. First, they established the Ministry of the Royal Household (Kungnaebu) and divided its finances from state finances. Second, they forced the Ministry of Finance to take control of major sources of government revenue and gave it jurisdiction to control all income of bureaus under the Ministry of the Royal Household and to authorize their expenses.23 Third, the Kabo government abolished many miscellaneous taxes in order to lessen the tax burden on the people and to facilitate commerce. Because the Choson government did not establish an elaborate system of taxation for commerce and coastal trade, a large portion of the miscellaneous taxes came from these sectors. Before the Kabo policy, many government institutions had competed over the rights to miscellaneous taxes from these sectors.24 The Kabo reformers also changed traditional practices of rent collection on public lands. As mentioned before, “public lands” (kongt’o) refers to lands whose rents supported various government agencies, such as military institutions or local offices. These lands, called yoktunt’o in historical studies, were composed of postal station lands (yokt’o) and military or civilian colony lands (tunt’o). The traditional ownership system of these lands was very complicated. The term “public” does not necessarily indicate that the lands were under state ownership; rather, it signified the “affiliation” of the lands with government agencies, 22. More research is needed to uncover the overall features of the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance; this chapter primarily focuses on records concerning the northwestern provinces. 23. Kim Chae-ho, “Kabo Kaehyok ihu Kundae chok Chaejong Chedo ui Hyongsong Kwajong e Kwanhan Yon’gu,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1997, p. 34. 24. Ibid., pp. 103, 135–138.

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schools, or the military. In terms of ownership, the lands affiliated with these public agencies were classified into two subcategories: state-owned lands (yut’o) and privately owned lands (mut’o). The affiliation of privately owned lands with government agencies meant that the state granted those agencies the right to collect “rents” from the lands. If the lands were tax-exempt (myonseji), their private owners paid rent (cho) to their affiliated agencies without paying taxes (se) to the state.25 The Kabo government made changes to streamline income collection from these lands and to increase the revenue of the central government. It investigated the tax-exempt lands throughout the country and added many of them to the list of taxable lands (Kabo myonseji sungch’ong). This policy brought changes to the privately owned lands affiliated with public agencies: the owners of these properties now had to pay taxes directly to the Ministry of Finance in the central government instead of to their affiliated government agencies. The “public lands” after the Kabo survey were, in principle, state-owned lands. Not surprisingly, this policy resulted in further ownership disputes. Many of the tenants on public lands had acquired their tenant rights by investing their own resources in cultivating previously deserted lands. In customary practice, their tenant rights were not considered very different from private ownership. One of the main problems in the Kabo policy was the regulation that those responsible for paying taxes on state-owned lands were the tenants rather than the landowner—which was, of course, the state itself. As a result, the tenants on state-owned lands complained about “double taxes on a single land” (ilt’o yangse), because they had to pay rent (tojo) as well as taxes (kyolchon or chise) to the state.26 The Kabo policy was insufficient to resolve the problems of traditional tax collection for these public lands, engendering recurrent disputes over their ownership and rent rates throughout the cadastral surveys of the Kwangmu and Japanese colonial periods.27 The Kwangmu government modified Kabo policies in accordance with its monarch-centered reform. It retained the division of royal household finances from state finances but concentrated major sources of national revenue in the Royal Treasury (Naejangwon) under the Ministry of the Royal Household. Kojong entrusted Yi Yong-ik with financial management of the government. Selected despite his lower-status origin, Yi showed good skill in increasing the

25. Pae Yong-sun, Hanmal Ilje Ch’ogi ui T’oji Chosa wa Chise Kaejong (Kyongsan: Yongnam University Press, 2002), p. 86. 26. Ibid., p. 89. 27. Cho Sok-kon, “Choson t’oji chosa saop e issoso ui kundaechok t’oji soyu chedo wa chise chedo ui hwangnip,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1995; Pae Yong-sun, Hanmal Ilje Ch’ogi ui T’oji Chosa wa Chise Kaejong.

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wealth of the Royal Treasury. He held several positions between 1897 and 1904, including director of the Bureau of Mintage (chonhwan kukchang), minister of the Naejangwon, and director of the ginseng and mine administrations.28 The Kwangmu government transferred many miscellaneous taxes into the Naejangwon, while adding many new ones. It recovered the taxes on commercial agents such as yogak and p’ogu chuin, as well as taxes on fish, salt, and boats that the Kabo government had abolished. It also imposed business or license taxes on commercial agents and devised new items, such as taxes on water (mulse), reservoir usage (pokse), and paper (chise).29 The Naejangwon replenished a considerable portion of its revenue with taxes from riverside areas, such as taxes imposed on the use of ferry stations (p’ojinse), on masters or supervisors at the ferry stations (p’ogu chuin), and interest from loan operations (singnijon).30 Because this extensive expansion of miscellaneous taxes resulted in social protests against the government, Kojong had to issue several imperial ordinances eliminating certain untitled miscellaneous taxes (mumyong chapse hyokp’a). However, these ordinances did not eradicate the taxes but simply added confusion to the taxation system.31 The Kwangmu government also transferred most of the postal station lands and civil and military colony lands between 1899 and 1900 from the Ministry of Finance to the Naejangwon.32 The Naejangwon launched a new cadastral survey (Kwangmu sagom) and dispatched investigators to all public lands to assess the amount of rent due. Whereas in 1899 the Naejangwon had been able to obtain rents only from lands under its direct control, such as palace estates granted to princes or princesses (kungbangjon), in 1901 it collected rents from all the public lands throughout the country. As a result of this transfer, more than 70 percent of its revenue now came from the rents from those lands.33 The Kwangmu government dismantled the traditional tax collection system, which had relied on local clerks and officials of local associations under the control of the provincial governors and local magistrates. The Naejangwon preferred to dispatch its officials directly to local areas. In August 1900, it selected thirteen government commissioners for tax collection (pongswaegwan and later 28. Yi Yun-sang, “Taehan Chegukki ui Chaejong Chongch’aek,” in Han’guksa, vol. 42 (Seoul: Kuksap’yonch’an Wiwonhoe, 1999), pp. 132–133. 29. Yi Yun-sang, “Taehan Chegukki Naejangwon ui Hwangsil Chaewon Unyong,” Hanguk Munhwa 17, pp. 229–231. 30. Ibid., p. 231, table 2. 31. Yi Yun-sang, “Taehan Cheguk ki ui Chaejong Chongch’aek,” pp. 143–144. 32. Pak Ch’an-sung, “Hanmal Yokt’o, Tunt’o esoui Chiju Kyongyong ui Kanghwa,” Han’guksaron, vol. 9, p. 259. The Naejangwon affiliated with it all the colony lands (tunt’o) in 1899 and the postal station lands in September 1900. 33. Kim Chae-ho, “Kabo Kaehyok ihu Kundae-chok Chaejong Chedo ui Hyongsong Kwajong e Kwanhan Yon’gu,” p. 111.

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sujogwan) and dispatched one to each province. The commissioners took charge of collecting miscellaneous taxes and rents for the Naejangwon. They were ordered to investigate public lands, assess the annual rents from those lands, and collect them for the Naejangwon.34 They supervised intermediary tax-collecting officials, such as tax inspectors (kamgwan) and tenant supervisors (saum), who actually carried out the work. More research is needed to fully understand how the new institutions of the Kwangmu government affected the tax administration of the old regime. However, for our purposes, it is conspicuous that Kwangmu policies contradicted the interests of crucial actors who made the power of the central government reach regional society—actors such as provincial governors, local magistrates, and their agents. While the concentration of national revenue in the Royal Treasury drained the financial resources of local governments,35 the government’s direct system of tax collection also reduced the authority and power of local officials, not to mention the sources of their personal profit.36

Mobilizing Merchants in Riverside Areas: Elimination of Miscellaneous Taxes When the Ilchinhoe mobilized their tax resistance movement, social resentment toward the tax policies of the Kwangmu government was already prevalent.37 In this respect, the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement was a social consequence of Kojong’s fiscal policies. The Ilchinhoe made their first move toward tax resistance after Kojong issued another imperial ordinance in September 1904 ordering the elimination of miscellaneous taxes. According to the Ilchinhoe’s official history, the group sent two members to riverside areas, the central place for commerce in Seoul, on November 17, 1904, and started inciting merchants with notices such as the following: Miscellaneous taxes have caused the merchants [sanggo] to suffer and prevented multitudes of merchants [sangnyo] from engaging in trade and commerce. Because of this, his majesty announced the eradication

34. Yi Yun-sang, “Taehan Chegukki Naejangwon ui Chaewon Unyong,” p. 235. 35. Kim T’aeung, “Kaehang Chonhu—Taehan Chegukki ui Chinbang Chaejong Kaehyok Yon’gu,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1997. 36. On the resistance of local officials on this Kwangmu policy, see ibid., pp. 182–213. Kim T’aeung argues that the Kwangmu government tried to continue the Kabo policies that reformed the functions of the local associations, making them represent the local taxpayers and counterbalance the old local agents of the central government. I discuss this point in Chapter 7. 37. Yi Yun-sang, “Taehan Chegukki Naejangwon ui Chaewon Unyong,” pp. 255–256.

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of miscellaneous taxes on September 18, 1904. In spite of this pronouncement, tax supervisors [segambae] have not followed the imperial order, and there are still widespread rumors that the taxes will be collected just as in the previous years. From the Ilchinhoe’s viewpoint, this practice profits the tax-collecting officials, whose vices harm the state. Since the Ilchinhoe’s purpose is to protect the people’s life and property, it will resolve this trouble. The Ilchinhoe circulated this announcement in urban areas and urged the riverside merchants to refuse to pay the taxes.38 They pressured high officials in the central government to eliminate the taxes. For instance, the Ilchinhoe headquarters sent letters to the minister of the Royal Household and the commander of the Kyongwiwon (Imperial Guard Police),39 who collected miscellaneous taxes in the riverside areas.40 The Ilchinhoe attached a list of the taxed items the group was protesting to its letter to the commander of the Kyongwiwon and demanded that he recall the tax collectors. The letter stated: The purpose of our association is to protect the people and to be their representatives. Since we recently heard that there are miscellaneous taxes in the riverside areas, we sent our members out to investigate the situation. It turns out that your institute is collecting the taxes. . . . Although the Ministry of Finance [T’akchibu] takes charge of legitimate tax collections, why does your institute override its authority and demand the payment of taxes?41 On December 10, 1904, the Ilchinhoe posted three notices in Chongno, the central market street in Seoul. First, these notices reiterated that government officials had ignored the imperial ordinance and not eliminated the miscellaneous taxes. The Ilchinhoe emphasized its efforts to make the Ministry of the Royal Household and the Royal Treasury accept its recommendations to remove taxes in the upper and lower riverside areas of the capital (kyonggang sangha). It also stated that it had succeeded in persuading the Imperial Guard Police to follow the Ilchinhoe’s recommendations and eliminate the taxes in the Five Rivers area (ogang) of Seoul.

38. IH, 1:37–38. 39. The Kyongwiwon was the institution under the Ministry of the Royal Household established in 1901 and abolished in 1910. These were the police guarding the imperial palaces and their surroundings. The Kwangmu government affiliated some lands with the newly established police or military institutions to fund their expenses, rather than paying money through the Royal Treasury or the Ministry of Finance. 40. IH, 1:43–45. 41. Ibid., 1:45.

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Second, the Ilchinhoe advocated that its local branches participate in the tax resistance. Pointing to the existence of taxes on local markets and on salt and fish (oyomse), the Ilchinhoe asked its local branches to investigate the items subject to miscellaneous taxes and demand that the provincial governors and local magistrates eliminate those taxes. It also instructed its branches to inform the Ilchinhoe headquarters (ilchin ch’onghoe) in Seoul if local officials would not accept the branches’ recommendations. It promised in its notices that the Ilchinhoe headquarters would use any means possible to resolve obstacles to repealing the taxes. Finally, the Ilchinhoe maintained that excessive tax rates were interconnected with the sale of official positions. In other words, officials who bought their positions attempted to collect undue amounts of taxes in order to recover their expenses. The Ilchinhoe declared that it would pursue all those involved in these sales, not only the officials who bought the positions but also the financial supporters or guarantors of the promissory notes (oum tamboja) for them. These notices show that the Ilchinhoe expanded their tax resistance movement to a national scale and ordered local branches to mobilize tax resistance in their regions. The Ilchinhoe branches displayed similar notices in key locations of their regions and intensified their resistance.42 The features of the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance were described in detail in reports of Korean officials, especially those of Cho Chong-yun, dispatched from the Royal Treasury. Cho was the director-general of mines in Northern P’yongan Province (p’yongbuk kakkwang kamni) and the T’aech’on magistrate. Taking charge of tax collection for the Royal Treasury in P’yongan Province,43 he was obligated to assess the unpaid taxes in a given year and report the reasons for them. His reports to the Royal Treasury attributed the unpaid taxes in the province to the Ilchinhoe. Cho’s reports were self-justifications to a certain degree, since he had to blame someone for his failure to complete his duty. Yet they also expose substantial facts about the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance and the scope of its movement. In May 1905, Cho reported on a tax dispute in Yongch’on Prefecture that had commenced a year earlier.44 The head of the prefectural local association (hyangjang) in Yongch’on, Yi Sok-yun, had collected 5,800 yang as sea and land taxes 42. Ibid., 1:7. 43. An Ilchinhoe member reported Cho Chong-yun, a strong opponent of the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement, to the Japanese military in September 1904. He was accused of being proRussian and an affiliate of the Yi Yong-ik faction, the core officials for the Korean emperor. Cho defended himself against this accusation by arguing that he had contributed 500 won to assist the Japanese army in Seoul. 44. Because tax-collecting officials were required to offer explanations in cases of unpaid taxes, Cho reported the case in 1905.

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(haeryukse) in the spring of 1904 from the merchants in riverside ports. These miscellaneous taxes belonged to the Naejangwon at the time. Yi told the merchants that the Naejangwon would be abolished soon and the taxes transferred to the Ministry of Finance. On this pretext, he held on to the collected taxes and did not deliver them to the Royal Treasury (which was Kyongniwon by that time) until the spring of 1905. Cho argued that the local head, Yi Sok-yun, had cooperated with Ilchinhoe members (hoemin) and expelled the government supervisors of the river taxes (kangse kamdokkwan). Cho ordered tax inspectors (segam) dispatched from the Yongch’on local government to collect fish and salt taxes (oyomse) from the Sindo area, as well as rice and bean taxes (mit’aese) and charcoal taxes (t’ot’anse) from the Odup’o area in Paekch’on. Yi Sok-yun and the Ilchinhoe members refused to pay the taxes to the inspector, claiming that they were among the miscellaneous taxes that should be eliminated. Cho repudiated such claims, stating that the taxes were “legitimate taxes” (chonggong) paid to the imperial house.45 He also stated that the Ilchinhoe and riverside merchants in Yongch’on had forced the local government to collect the taxes without appropriating them for the group and its followers. Cho insisted in his report that this exposed the Ilchinhoe’s disloyalty to the Korean emperor, writing, “Even in the case of legitimate taxes, if they are revenues of the Royal Treasury, then the Ilchinhoe members grumble and express their resentment. However, even in the case of miscellaneous taxes, if they belong to the local government, then the Ilchinhoe gladly cooperate.”46 It is worth pointing out several significant aspects of this Yongch’on case. First, the tax resistance in Yongch’on began in the spring of 1904, prior to the official founding of the Ilchinhoe in August and of the Chinbohoe in October. The timing indicates that grassroots tax resistance preceded the Ilchinhoe’s mobilization. Second, the head of the local association, Yi Sog-yun, predicted in the midst of the Russo-Japanese War that the Royal Treasury (Naejangwon) would soon disappear and the Ministry of Finance would take charge of riverside taxes. If Cho’s record is correct, the local head expected that the Japanese advance in the war would destabilize the Korean emperor’s policy. If the riverside merchants in the resistance shared such expectations, this means that they may have opposed the monarch-centered reform of the Kwangmu government and anticipated its disintegration.

45. Chonggong originally referred to legitimate taxes stipulated in the national law, as opposed to chapse, which were miscellaneous taxes. Most taxes on commerce or riverside areas were miscellaneous taxes. However, the Royal Treasury at the time appears to have redefined the taxes submitted to the monarch as being included in chonggong. 46. KSTN, 38:181.

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Finally, it is noteworthy that Yi Sog-yun, the head of the local association, had a cooperative relationship with the Ilchinhoe in opposition to the commissioner from the Royal Treasury. Yi preferred paying taxes to the local government and formed an alliance with the Ilchinhoe to drive out tax officials from the Royal Treasury. However, this “alliance” between the head of the local association and the Ilchinhoe was not typical. According to my own research, conflicts with local associations and local governments were more frequently the case. Cho Chong-yun, the official dispatched from the Royal Treasury, asked the Ilchinhoe headquarters in the capital to “correct” members of the Yongch’on branch and settle their troubles.47 He did not understand that the local Ilchinhoe members in fact carried out their efforts with the assistance of the Ilchinhoe headquarters, which gathered information on local tax resistance and pressured the central government to aid the resistance. Yi Yong-gu, the president of the Ilchinhoe’s local branches, directed the tax resistance efforts in the northern provinces. When Yi reported to the Ilchinhoe headquarters that the miscellaneous taxes were still in effect in Anju in February 1905, it began its negotiations with the Ministry of the Interior (Naebu) and assisted Yi’s protests.48 The Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance became very intense in 1905. It went so far in P’yongan Province as to force the closure of government offices for tax collection in the riverside areas. In February 1905, the tax officer of the riverside area in Pyoktong Prefecture, Kang Ch’i-ju, characterized the tax resistance there as “lawless” and “disorderly.” Kang wrote that Kim Ung-son, a resident of Sop’a Port, had rallied with fifty to sixty Ilchinhoe members and rejected Kang’s agent’s demands that they pay taxes. Kim and the Ilchinhoe members had yelled, “Why do you follow only the government orders and the directives of the provincial governor but never execute the instructions of our association [i.e., the Ilchinhoe]?” They had then bound the tax officer with ties and, while striking drums, forced him to walk around the area for display. They then seized the collected taxes and refused to pay the unpaid amount at their convenience. Kang wrote that he was unable to deal with the people in this lawless situation and that there were no towns under his jurisdiction where such problems did not take place.49 Cho Chong-yun’s report on September 15, 1905, also helps us outline the general tax resistance situation in P’yongan Province. Cho wrote that he was accustomed to collecting no less than 100,000 yang per year from the ten prefectures located along the rivers in Southern P’yongan. In December 1904, however, he failed to collect any money from these areas due to the Ilchinhoe’s

47. Ibid., 38:181–182. 48. IH, 2:25. 49. KSTN, 38:241.

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violent actions. Its members agitated the crowds to refuse to pay the miscellaneous taxes, attacked the tax inspectors (segam), and expelled them from their prefectures. The crowds sometimes went so far as to tie up the tax agents and drop them into the river. This violence persuaded Cho to temporarily close the offices for tax collection. Hoping to resume operations soon afterward, he retained some supervisors and kept them waiting for several months despite the closure of the offices. These tax supervisors had to pawn their own possessions to fund their travel and living expenses because there was no revenue during this period. Facing the complaints of the tax supervisors, Cho finally allowed them to return home and send money to pay the personal debts they incurred during their stay in the area. In his report written in October 1905, Cho reiterated the difficulties he faced in carry ing out his duties. The Ilchinhoe expelled tax inspectors from the nine riverside prefectures between January and September 1905. Cho requested that the Royal Treasury modify the tax rates to resolve this crisis. He suggested that the government take into consideration the low traffic during the winter season when deciding tax rates. He anticipated that this modification would offset the Ilchinhoe’s agitations for rent reduction.50 He also tried to persuade Ilchinhoe members that the government could not abolish riverside taxes altogether because it needed to collect revenues from foreigners. Because there was a lot of trade between Korea and China in the riverside areas, he argued, the elimination of taxes there would result in a tax exemption for foreign traders. In response, the Ilchinhoe instructed local branches to allow the government to collect taxes from Chinese merchants but not from Koreans. This disappointed Cho because his rationale was intended to collect the accumulated unpaid taxes in the riverside areas. It was mostly Korean merchants in the riverside areas who traded in the major taxable items, such as rice, cotton, fish, and salt. If the government could not charge the Korean merchants, its revenue from the areas would be trivial. Cho took the example of the Uiju and Saha areas, where the revenues from silk, the major trade item of Chinese merchants, could not cover even the minimum administrative expenses for tax collection and the salaries of tax officers. In Ch’osan, Pyoktong, and Ch’angsong, birch was the sole trade item for Chinese merchants. However, Ilchinhoe members had already appropriated the taxes from this item, 30 ingots of Chinese silver (wonbo 30 chong), to finance their school. The Ilchinhoe’s exclusion of Korean merchants from taxation in the riverside areas led to tax evasion by the Chinese merchants, which the tax officers of Ch’angsong, Sakchu, Pyoktong, Ch’osan, Wiwon, and Kanggye reported in March 50. Ibid., 38:196–197.

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1905. After local Ilchinhoe members in these areas followed the instruction to eliminate the river tax for Koreans but keep it for Chinese merchants, the Chinese demanded that the Koreans trade their products within Chinese territory. For instance, Chinese merchants had been accustomed to entering Korean coastal areas to trade Chinese salt (tangyom). After the Ilchinhoe’s policy went into effect, Chinese merchants began storing their salt in Chinese territory and made Korean merchants cross the river to access it. This moved the tax base from the Korean government to the Chinese government, whose revenue doubled in comparison with previous years. Besides this Chinese tax evasion, there was also the case of the Korean local government increasing taxes on Chinese merchants to compensate for the loss of revenues in the riverside areas.51 The Royal Treasury accepted Cho’s accusation against the Ilchinhoe and refused to grant the group’s demand for tax reduction. The Royal Treasury sent instructions that the riverside taxes (yon’gangse) were to be identical to the coastal customs (haegwanse); they should be differentiated from miscellaneous taxes (chapse) and collected according to the regulations governing legitimate taxes (chonggong).52 Protesting these instructions, the Ilchinhoe and riverside merchants referred to the regulations of the Kabo Reform that had eliminated the miscellaneous taxes and reduced tax burdens. They sometimes insisted that they would pay taxes to local governments or to the Ministry of Finance instead of to agents of the Royal Treasury in accordance with the Kabo regulations, arguing that this would avoid private embezzlement of the state’s revenues (kongjon). Yet this response from the protesters did not necessarily indicate that they wanted local governments or the Ministry of Finance to collect taxes. Some records show that their reference to the Ministry of Finance was a matter of expediency to avoid paying the miscellaneous taxes to the Royal Treasury. When the Japanese protectorate government established jurisdiction over the Ministry of Finance and resumed its tax collection in some areas, Ilchinhoe members still refused the directives of the Ministry of Finance. For instance, the Pyoktong magistrate reported the attitude of Ilchinhoe members on November 25, 1905. When the magistrate announced new government regulations for the river tax, the head of the Ilchinhoe branch, Yi Sung-nak, complained that the tax did not originally belong to the Ministry of Finance. He mentioned Kojong’s ordinance on the elimination of the river tax and stated that he regarded the magistrate’s announcement on the river tax as being against the law. Yi requested that the Ministry of Finance stop assessing the river tax.

51. Ibid., 38:246–247. 52. Ibid., 38:239.

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A tax-collecting official for the Ministry of Finance also testified that Ilchinhoe members continued their resistance after the Ministry of Finance took control of tax collection in their areas. The official was accused of embezzling revenues by the Royal Treasury, which had had bureaucratic conflicts with the Ministry of Finance over the jurisdiction of tax collection. The official in question was the director-general (kamni) of Uiju, Yi Min-bu. The Royal Treasury charged him in June 1906, on the basis of a report from the aforementioned Cho Chong-yun. The report argued that Yi had expelled the tax officers dispatched from the Royal Treasury in the fall of 1904 and had replaced them with his own officials in every port area. Cho also criticized Yi for forcefully implementing this measure and spreading the “rumor” that riverside taxes would be transferred to the Ministry of Finance. Yi Min-bu denied this charge. The Royal Treasury had collected riverside taxes for several years until the Ilchinhoe had interrupted the tax collection in the spring of 1905. Yi argued that the Ilchinhoe, not himself, had ousted the tax officials of the Royal Treasury and caused an accumulated shortfall of several tens of thousands of yang in government revenues. Yi continued that he had reported this situation to the Ministry of Finance because he was responsible for collecting commercial taxes in the area. When he sent out his officials to collect taxes in September 1905, Ilchinhoe members continued their resistance and refused to pay their dues. At the time, Yi was supposed to collect 7,900 yang in five days from the big traders passing along the river (naewang sanggo). According to past practice in the province, officials issued a list of taxable items (sedan) in advance and collected the listed dues from the merchants. Yi was afraid that the Ilchinhoe’s interference would prevent him from finishing his duty within the allotted five days. He argued that the people in the area were not willing to pay the listed taxes because of the Ilchinhoe’s agitation and that they expected a permanent abolition of the taxes. Yi barely collected 5,000 yang and had no choice but to report the list of unpaid taxes to the Ministry of Finance. To prove his innocence, Yi asked the Royal Treasury to cross-check the list of taxable items and merchants, which he had retained.53

53. Ibid., 38:286–287. Yi’s testimony provides interesting background information on the aforementioned tax resistance case in Yongch’on. Cho Chong-yun pointed out that Yi was the origin of the “rumor” about the transfer of the riverside taxes from the Royal Treasury to the Ministry of Finance. The ultimate source of this rumor would have been the Japanese financial policy in Korea, because the Japanese financial advisor had begun his activities in Korea and was trying to undermine the financial dominance of the Royal Treasury. Yi Min-bu in Uiju may have leaked the information on the collapse of the Royal Treasury, which reached the head of the local association in Yongch’on. This possibly inspired the head of the local association to set off his tax resistance in the spring of 1904.

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The Ilchinhoe also attempted to eliminate taxes on ginseng and mining, the major miscellaneous tax items outside the riverside areas. Sin T’ae-hwan, a provincial head of the Ilchinhoe, petitioned the Royal Treasury in August 1907 to eliminate irregularities in the collection of ginseng taxes. His petition was based on a report from Yang Chi-dal, the head of the Ilchinhoe branch in Kanggye Prefecture. Because the Royal Treasury collected ginseng from the people at a price far lower than its market price, he claimed, the total deficit of the people who submitted ginseng amounted to 27,385 yang. The Ilchinhoe argued that this money had been unfairly exacted from the people.54 It also asked the government to remove the fees paid for officials in charge of collecting ginseng. Their travel expenses reached 15,000 yang, which was eventually transferred to the people. Finally, the Ilchinhoe accused Cho Chong-yun, who directed ginseng collection for the Royal Treasury, of corruption, arguing that he had collected 3,000 yang for his travel expenses and the horse fee to carry the bundles of ginseng. The Ilchinhoe requested that the government eliminate the ginseng remittance to the capital for good. Accepting this petition, the Royal Treasury replied that the tribute had already been abolished.55 There were also cases in which the Ilchinhoe became involved in the tax resistance of miners. During the Choson dynasty, all mines were under government ownership. Miners paid taxes in kind if the government permitted them to mine in an area. The core figures in the traditional mining industry were the chief miners (toktae). They leased parts of the mines from the government and controlled their subordinate miners. The chief miners had the responsibility of paying taxes to the government. During the Kwangmu period, the Royal Treasury took control of the mines and appointed their own directors (kakkwang kamni) or supervisors (kakkwang wiwon) for tax collection or administrative tasks, such as granting mining permits.56 As the Royal Treasury focused on increasing its revenues from mines, it overissued permits for mining,57 and it imposed tax rates that were excessive enough to extract most of the economic surplus in the mining industry.

54. The amount of tax receipts remitted to the capital (sangnapsu) on dried whole ginseng (ch’egonsam) was 7 yang chung (the unit of weight), and the market price per each p’un chung was 15 yang. However, the Kyongniwon’s price per p’un chung was 4 yang 4 chon. Thus, the deficit per p’un chung was 10 yang 6 chon, and the entire deficit reached 7,420 yang. The sangnapsu for dried thin ginseng was 36 yang 3 chon chung, and the market price of each p’un chung was 7 yang 5 chon. Since the Kyongniwon paid 2 yang per p’un chung, the deficit per p’un chung was 5 yang 5 chon, and the entire deficit reached 19,965 yang. Thus, the total deficit from both kinds of ginseng was 27,385 yang. 55. KSTN, 37:110–111. 56. Yi Yun-sang, “Taehan Chegukki Naejangwon ui Chaewon Unyong,” p. 249. 57. Kim Yang-sik, “Taehan Chegukki Toktae Kwangbudul ui Tonghyang kwa Nodong Undong,” p. 41.

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The mining tax rates at the time were not fixed but fluctuated from 3 to 7 p’un chung per person per year.58 If there was significant production, the rate increased to more than 8 p’un. If the production was low, the rate went down below 2 p’un. In addition to these official rates, miners paid the expenses of the tax officials dispatched from the Royal Treasury, which sent a director for taxation (kamni) to each province who then dispatched his own agents or supervisors to the mining fields. These officials in turn entrusted their menial and daily tasks to tax inspectors (segam) or guard officers (pyolchang). None of these intermediate agents received government salaries but extracted their living expenses and their own profits from miners via the tax collection process. The heavy tax rates in the mines frequently caused disputes with miners and had already become a critical problem before the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement. Early in 1904, the chief miners (toktae) and other miners in P’yongan Province strongly protested the tax policy of the Royal Treasury. They destroyed government offices in the mines (kwanbang), expelled tax inspectors, and refused to pay their taxes. The protests were most fierce in the Sunan gold mine in Southern P’yongan and the Kusong mine in Northern P’yongan.59 Cho Chong-yun reported on July 17, 1905, that the Ilchinhoe had connections with some miners in these protests. Kim Ho-in and Chong Su-in, who were among the chief miners in the Sunan gold mine, cooperated with the Ilchinhoe. According to Cho, they spread “false rumors” that the total number of miners was 130,000, or more than double the reported number and that the tax rate was 7 p’un chung per person, 1 p’un chung more than the reported rate. Cho was also rumored to have presented only 3,000 yang to the government and to have embezzled an amount four times greater than that. Cho completely denied the accusations. He argued that the total number of miners in the Sunan gold mine was 59,232 and that the tax rate was 6 p’un chung per person between January 1904 and March 1905. Thus the total tax was supposed to be 3,553 yang 9 chon 2 p’un chung in gold.60 The government paid 5 li chung per person for the dispatched guard officials (p’awol pyolchang tuyogum) out of this amount. Cho reported the unpaid tax, 381 yang 5 chon 5 p’un chung in gold, and supplied a list of the names of chief miners and the amounts that they owed the government. He also outlined the multiple stages of tax collection in order to defend himself. He explained that the director-general did not collect the taxes directly from the chief miners but worked with the supervisors (wiwon), guard officers (pyolchang), and tax collectors (segam). Cho asserted that it 58. P’un or p’un chung refers to the unit of gold weight that equals 0.375 kg, or 0.1 ton (3.75 g). 59. Kim Yang-sik, “Taehan Chegukki Toktae Kwangbudul ui Tonghyang kwa Nodong Undong,” pp. 54–58. 60. One yang in gold equals 37.5 g, or 10 ton.

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would be impossible for him to misappropriate the money because the officials kept records, receipts, and seals at each stage of the procedure. Cho sent the Royal Treasury documents to prove his innocence, including a list of miners, a list of collected taxes, the records of the commissioners, certificates of the chief miners in the districts of mines (chom), and so forth. He also requested that the Royal Treasury dispatch investigators (komsagwan) to the mine and validate the truth of his reports. The Royal Treasury sent out investigators and checked whether any inconsistency existed between Cho’s reports and the Ilchinhoe’s accusations.61 Whether the Ilchinhoe’s accusations against Cho were accurate or not, they incited hundreds of miners in the Sunan gold mine to break into the management office for dispatched tax agents and plead for the reduction of the tax rates. Their protests forced the Royal Treasury to reduce the tax rate to 4 p’un 5 li in accordance with government regulations.62

Leading the Tenant Resistance on Public Lands The Ilchinhoe organized the most persistent tax-resistance movement against the taxation of public lands. It attempted some creative political experimentation with its tenant members, obtained their support, and thereby exposed the weakness as well as the strength of its populist leadership. It fostered widespread discontent about Kwangmu policies on the public lands and facilitated tenant disputes. It first of all aimed at reducing rent rates and organized people to collectively reject paying excessive rents. Cho Chong-yun reported in August 1905 that rent from postal station lands and colony lands for 1904 was seriously underpaid in North P’yongan Province. He complained that the Ilchinhoe’s interference in rent collection was perilous enough to nullify the national law. Cho himself was summoned to court (the P’yongniwon) due to the Ilchinhoe’s accusations against him. He grumbled that his conflicts with the Ilchinhoe in the tax collection process made him a “victim” of the Ilchinhoe’s “vicious” tactics.63 The Uiju magistrate, Sin Ik-kyun, reported on August 21, 1905, that the Ilchinhoe had instigated tenant protests in his prefecture. Ilchinhoe members protested that the Korean emperor had issued an ordinance in July 1904 eliminating the “additional rents.” According to Sin, the total amount of rents for the public lands in his prefecture was 126,558 yang 1 chon 3 p’un; 89,558 yang 1 61. KSTN, 38:186–187. 62. Kim Yang-sik, “Taehan Chegukki Toktae Kwangbudul ui Tonghyang kwa Nodong Undong,” pp. 56–57. 63. KSTN, 38:191.

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chon 3 p’un was the “original rent” (wondo), and 37,000 yang was the “additional rent” in cash (kajon) that had been distributed among the tenants of the public lands since 1902. Ilchinhoe members refused to pay the additional rents and urged people to join their protest. They assembled a crowd of thousands and threatened the tenant supervisors (saum) of the public lands. The Uiju magistrate lamented that the Ilchinhoe’s protests against the government’s authority went so far as to displace the traditional relationship between the state officials and the people. He wrote, “In those areas, the state officials do not behave appropriately for their status, nor do the people act accordingly.”64 The category of additional rents (kado or kajon) refers to the rents added to the original rents from the public lands. As mentioned before, the Kabo government tried to establish fixed rent rates and to abolish additional rents and miscellaneous fees. The Kwangmu government also determined the original fixed rent rates between 1899 and 1900, during the Kwangmu cadastral survey (Kwangmu sagom). The rates were approximately 3 yang in cash per turak65 of rice paddy. Nevertheless, the Royal Treasury (Naejangwon at the time) did not follow the original rent rates after the survey; rather, it collected rents in grain instead of cash or increased the rents by imposing “additional rents” (kado) as well as the original rents (wondo).66 The Ilchinhoe refused to pay these and demanded that the government return to the original rent rates. Cho Chong-yun estimated in October 1905 that the unpaid rents from public lands in Northern P’yongan Province had reached 183,621 yang 2 chon 7 p’un in cash. Like the Uiju magistrate, Cho ascribed this unpaid amount to the Ilchinhoe’s attempts to abolish the additional rents (kado) in 1905. According to Cho’s report, the total size of the rents in the Ch’ongbuk area, the northern part of Ch’ongch’on River, was 576,612 yang 7 chon 2 p’un in cash. This amount included both original rents (wondo) and additional rents (kado) assessed from public lands, as well as the rents that the Inspection Bureau of the Korean military (kunbu komsaguk sajip tochon) had investigated and assessed. Only 393,041 yang 5 chon 5 p’un in cash out of this total amount was paid in April 1905 and sent to the Royal Treasury. The unpaid amount was mostly the additional rents of 1905 (ponnyon tajip kado ji suaek). Cho suggested that these problems could have been avoided had the government followed the example of previous years

64. Ibid., 38:192. 65. The amount of land on which 1 mal could be planted as seed was 0.163 acres (ca. 1910), as noted in James Palais, Confucian Statecraft and Korean Institutions: Yu Hyongwon and the Late Choson Dynasty (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1996), p. 1188. 66. Pak Ch’an-sung, “1865–1907 nyon yokt’o tunt’o eso ui chiju kyongyong ui kanghwa wa hangjo,” Han’guksaron 9 (1983); Kim Yang-sik, “Taehan cheguk, ilche ha yoktunt’o yon’gu,” PhD diss., Tan’guk University, 1992.

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and collected only the original rents (wondo) or had the Ilchinhoe members not refused to pay the additional rents.67 Cho presented the Royal Treasury with a list of unpaid rents and taxes. The list included the types of taxes and rents, the unpaid amounts, and the taxpayers responsible for them. Table 3, which is based on Cho’s list, reveals the reality of tenant resistance in Northern P’yongan Province. The Ilchinhoe’s record of involvement has been verified by checking the Ilchinhoe’s tenant disputes recorded in the Kaksa tungnok. Some of these cases are discussed in the remainder of this chapter. Table 3 shows that seven prefectural heads of local elite associations (hyangjang), four individuals, two local magistrates, and one tenant supervisor were deemed responsible for the unpaid taxes and rents. The four individuals may have been either tenant supervisors or individual cultivators who were obligated to pay rents to the state. In the rest of the cases, Cho indicated, the unpaid taxes were the result of collective action by tenants refusing to pay the rents or taxes. I found records of the Ilchinhoe’s involvement in eight prefectures, but it is probable that such involvement was more extensive in the province than recorded and set forth in Table 3. The Ilchinhoe’s resistance was also strong in Southern P’yongan Province. Kim Son-yong, the commissioner for tax collection (pongsoegwan) there, criticized the Ilchinhoe’s interference when he reported the list of unpaid rents from public lands in August 1904. The unpaid amounts were over 5,000 yang in Sunch’on, Songch’on, Kaech’on, P’yongyang, and Unsan and over 1,000 yang in Sunan and Sukch’on. Kim underlined the Ilchinhoe’s interference with respect to the unpaid amount from Kaech’on Prefecture, which was 19,995 yang 9 chon 3 p’un, the largest amount of unpaid rent on his list.68 Many local magistrates in Southern P’yongan also reported their own problems with the Ilchinhoe.69 For example, the Kanggye magistrate reported to the central government on May 29, 1905, that the head of the Ilchinhoe branch, Kim Chong-ha, had sent him a letter about annual rents from military lands (kunjon) and the lands for ritual expenses (wijon).70 The Ilchinhoe head requested that the local government ban excessive rents beyond the rate of 2 yang 8 chon per ilgyong. He invoked the Ulmi regulations of 1895 to establish the validity of this request. The 1895 regulations were tax reform policies of the Kabo government that determined the fixed rent rate per ilgyong and outlawed the collection of additional rents. 67. KSTN, 38:207–208. 68. Ibid., 38:191–192. One ilgyong refers to the unit of arable land that could be cultivated in a day, approximately 9,918 square meters (3,000 p’yong). 69. Ibid., 38:217. 70. Ibid., 38:182–183.

TABLE 3. Unpaid rents in October 1905 on public lands in Northern P’ypngan Province and the Ilchinhoe’s involvement PLACE

ITEM

PARTY RESPONSIBLE FOR PAYMENT

Pakch’pn

Sikch’aerijpn*

Hyangjang (prefecture

ILCHINHOE’S INVOLVEMENT

head of local elite association) Rents from public lands

Kim Sang-uk, resident in the capital (kypnggpin)

Chpngju

Fire tax (hawse chpn)

Hyangjang

Salt tax (ypmbu chpn) Kwaksan

Salt tax (ypmbu se) Additional rents from the colony

Tenants of colony lands

lands of the Kyujanggak (kujanggak tunjpn kado) Chaspng

Money for the military tax on

Reported

rice (kunsemi taejpn) Huch’ang

Money for the Panggo colony lands tax (panggo tunse taechpn)

Kangkye

Rents from public lands

Kuspng

Ch’aeri chpn

Ch’angspng

Reported Hyangjang

Rents from colony lands

Chpn Kypng-nyong

Additional rents from military

Hyangjang

Reported

garrison lands (kunjin kado chpn) Rents from postal station lands Unsan

Ch’aerijpn

Former local

Viju

Rents from postal station

Tenant supervisor of

magistrate lands and military lands

Reported

the district prefecture (pusavm)

Rents from military lands

Tenants of the lands

affiliated with kpmsaguk Sakchu

Rents from postal station lands

Local prefecture head

Rents from garrison colony lands Wiwpn

Rents from postal station

Tenants of the lands

Reported

Tenants of the lands

Reported

lands Ch’osan

Rents from postal station lands

(continued)

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TABLE 3. (continued) PLACE

PARTY RESPONSIBLE FOR PAYMENT

ILCHINHOE’S INVOLVEMENT

Ch’aerijpn

Local magistrate

Reported

Rents from military lands

Tenants of the lands

ITEM

Rents from military lands affiliated with kpmsaguk Pypktong

affiliated with kpmsaguk Spnch’pn

Rents from military colony

Kim Hvi-t’ak

lands Huichpn Yongch’pn

Postal station lands

Yi Stng-hun

Hawse ch’aerijpn

Hyangjang

Rents from public lands

Hyangjang

Reported

Source: KSTN, 38:172–230, especially pp. 207–208. Note: This record includes the lands affiliated with the bureau of inspection (kpmsaguk) in the military command (wpnsubu) of the Korean empire. *Sikch’aerijrn (ch’aerijrn) appears to refer to the interest paid for loans by the government.

This Kanggye case exposes the deeper historical roots of the Ilchinhoe’s tenant disputes. It shows that the policy changes about public lands during the Kwangmu period were the immediate cause of tenant protests on these lands and that there was acute disagreement between the local government and tenants on these changes. The Kanggye magistrate described how government policies had fluctuated and influenced the rent rates on the postal station lands (yokt’o) of his prefecture. The central government had dispatched an investigator of public lands (sap’an’gwan), Yi No-su, in 1895. He had established rents on the public lands at a reduced rate. Although 1 ilgyong had originally referred to 5 pu71 of farming fields in the area, he counted 8 or 10 pu as 1 ilgyong. Consequently, he counted the original 1,300 ilgyong of the postal station lands as half its original amount, or 676 ilgyong 2 si. Yi calculated the rent rate in accordance with the 4 tu rate in rice or beans per ilgyong. Since 1 tu corresponded to 7 chon in cash, the assessed rent rate was 2 yang 8 chon per ilgyong. The head of the Ilchinhoe branch demanded that the government return to this 1895 (Ulmi) rate. As previously mentioned, when the Kwangmu government had transferred the postal station lands and colony lands from the Ministry of Finance to the Royal Treasury in 1899, it had carried out its own investigation of the public lands and abolished this Ulmi rate. In 1900, the Naejangwon sent a government 71. A hundredth of a kyol.

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commissioner (pongsoegwan), Han Ch’ang-jong, to the area and reestimated the size of the taxable lands. Han recovered approximately 600 ilgyong that the previous investigator had underreported. He added 2,307 yang 2 chon 6 p’un to the original rent from the postal station lands, which was 2,561 yang 1 chon 6 p’un. It is noteworthy that the Ilchinhoe members in Kanggye regarded the rents according to the 1895 rate to be the “original rents” and thus considered this added amount resulting from the Kwangmu investigation to be “additional rents.” The Kanggye magistrate repudiated the Ilchinhoe’s petition and argued that Han’s assessment of the total amount of rent—namely, about 4,800 yang—did not increase the rents but corrected a previous mistake during the 1895 investigation. In other words, the magistrate believed that the increased rents reflected the actual size of taxable lands that Han had assessed in the area. Since the previous 1 ilgyong in the investigation of 1895 became 2 ilgyong during the Kwangmu investigation, the real rental rate per ilgyong appeared to have increased from 4 tu to 8 tu. The magistrate argued that this was how the rental rate had doubled in the area and then explained the effect of inflation on the rental rate when it was paid in cash. The Royal Treasury had entrusted the provincial government with rent collection in the area according to this rate of 8 tu per ilgyong (p’alduse). It dispatched tax officials to the prefecture and directly collected the rents from the year 1903. But the price of rice had risen from 7 chon per tu to 2 yang 5 chon between 1895 and 1903. As a result, the rent for 1 ilgyong had increased from 2 yang 8 chon in 1895, according to the 4 tu rate (saduse), to 20 yang in 1904, according to the 8 tu rate (p’alduse). The Kanggye magistrate insisted that this increase in the cash rate reflected the market price of rice but did not constitute a rise in the real rent burden provided the tenants paid in grain instead of in cash. He also pointed out that, even when the rate of 1895, 2 yang 8 chon per ilgyong, was applied to the rent assessment in the postal station lands, the tenants had to pay 50 percent of their harvests to the local magistrate for rents in kind. This meant that the lower tax rate of the Kabo government had not benefited the tenants but, rather, the local magistrate. The Kanggye magistrate thus challenged the Ilchinhoe’s argument that there had been an explosive increase in the rental rate. He also deemed that the addition of taxable lands during the Kwangmu cadastral survey was “fair” because it brought to light hitherto hidden sources of income for the government. In summary, the tenants of postal station lands in Kanggye experienced major changes during the Kwangmu period. First, the Kwangmu investigator doubled the area of taxable postal station lands, from 676 ilgyong 2 si to 1,300 ilgyong. Second, this expansion meant, from the viewpoint of the tenants, that the rent rate also doubled, from 4 tu per ilgyong to 8 tu, after the lands were

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moved from the Ministry of Finance to the Royal Treasury. Third, the price of rice rose from 7 chon per tu in 1895 to 2 yang 5 chon in 1904. Consequently, the tax for 1 ilgyong increased from 2 yang 8 chon by the 4 tu rate in 1895, to 20 yang in 1904 by the 8 tu rate. This meant that the cash rent per ilgyong rose by a factor of almost seven in just ten years. Fourth, tax collection had been transferred from agents of the local government to the official of the central government dispatched from the Royal Treasury. In light of these onerous changes, the head of the Ilchinhoe branch demanded that the local government maintain the reduced rent rate established during the Kabo (Ulmi) Reform and eliminate the additional rents assessed during the more recent Kwangmu survey. In short, tenants of the postal station lands in the prefecture opposed the tax policies of the Kwangmu government.72 The Ilchinhoe’s resistance in Ch’osan is another example of how tenant protests broke out against tax policy changes on public lands. Since this Ch’osan case encompasses the policy changes after 1903, it complements the Kanggye case in illuminating the backgrounds of such tenant disputes. The Ilchinhoe’s position was more assertive in Ch’osan than it had been in Kanggye, for it not only abolished excessive rents in Ch’osan but also adopted its own reduced tax rate on public lands. Chi Kwan-je and other tenants of the postal station lands in Ch’osan sent their petition to Cho Chong-yun in June 1906. They argued in the petition that the fixed rent for the lands was originally 7 yang 9 chon 8 p’un per ilgyong in the prefecture. In 1903, the official for rent collection, Kim Kyongnak, was dispatched from the district prefecture (pu p’awon). He applied the rate of 50 percent of the harvests (t’aban) for the first time in the area and collected 31 yang 5 chon per soktu.73 But since the tenants had petitioned the local government against this rate, the magistrate considered the sentiments of the people (minjong) and permitted them to pay the original rents assessed in previous years. Kim sometimes followed this order and sometimes did not. A new official for rent collection from the district prefecture arrived in 1906 and imposed a

72. This demand for rent reduction on postal station lands recurred in the province even where there was no involvement of the Ilchinhoe. The official for rent collection (sujogwan), Won Yong-gyu, confronted tenant resistance in the Taedonggang district of P’yongyang. When he dispatched agents to collect 50 percent of the crops on postal station lands in the district, as in previous years, the tenants protested that they paid 7,000 yang per year according to the fixed rate. The tenants amassed crowds and battered the agents. They also threshed the bundles of rice collected by the officials and ate them at their will. Won tried to persuade the tenants that he could not reduce the amount of taxes because it was based on estimations of the previous year, but the tenants were not persuaded. Won therefore arrested the ringleaders of the demonstration. One of the ringleaders, Han Myong-in, cultivated almost 30 ilkyong of postal station lands in the area. He had become the head tenant (sujagin) and relied on his wealth and power in the area. He was also involved in secret mining in the area. 73. A soktu is the amount of land on which 1 som (5.12 bushels) could be planted as seed.

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rate of 15 yang per ilgyong for 1904 and 1905. He also pressed the tenants to pay the unpaid rents for 1903 in accordance with the 50 percent rate. In this situation, the tenants in Ch’osan petitioned Cho Chong-yun again. Although the original rents for the postal station lands were 12,857 yang 7 chon, they asserted, Kim Kyong-nak had collected 32,400 yang for 1903, in accordance with the 50 percent rate, and had misappropriated 19,543 yang. The tenant petitioners asked the government to arrest Kim and make him return the embezzled money, which would help the tenants to clear the rents for 1904. They also asked the government to preserve the original rate for 1905. Cho found, however, that Kim Kyong-nak had collected less than 20,000 yang. Cho argued that the unpaid rents, approximately 10,000 yang, should be equally distributed to the people and collected from them. However, since Cho considered the 50 percent rate for 1904 too heavy for the angry tenants, he reduced the rate from 32 yang to 15 yang per ilgyong. Despite this reduction, Ilchinhoe members held a meeting (p’yong hoewon i hoeui haya) and further reduced the rate for 1905 to 13 yang. Cho argued that this low rate applied only to the postal station lands in Ch’osan and not to those elsewhere in Northern P’yongan Province.74 Estimating the general situation of Northern P’yongan in his report of January 1906, Cho wrote that the tenants in the province preferred to pay fixed rate rents in cash. He added that Ilchinhoe members (p’yonghoemin) in Ch’angsong, Pyoktong, Wiwon, and Ch’osan had decided to pay rents according to the original fixed rents in cash (wondojon) assessed in 1899 and 1900. Cho doubted that he could reverse their decision.75

Protests in the Military Lands The Ilchinhoe’s resistance in the military lands (kunjon) must be discussed separately from the group’s disputes in the postal station lands or other colony lands. Although they tried to abolish the additional rents on postal station lands, their resistance in the military lands took a somewhat different direction. Few studies have sufficiently explored how P’yongan Province managed to meet huge military and diplomatic expenses involved in defending its border areas and supplying envoys to China.76 Thus it is difficult to understand the context of the Ilchinhoe’s resistance in the military colony lands.

74. KSTN, 38:293–294. 75. Ibid., 38:238. 76. Kwon Nae-hyon, “Choson hugi p’yongan-do chaejong unyong yon’gu,” PhD diss., Koryo University, 2003.

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The aforementioned Kanggye case includes some information providing insight into provincial practices for financing military expenses and the demands of tenant protestors in the military colony lands. In the Kanggye military lands, one unit (kwa) of military land (kunjon) consisted of approximately 10 ilgyong. In the past, when people had raised 20 yang per unit for the original funds (ippon) to supply the military, they could then begin cultivating an empty unit (hokwa). If the cultivators paid 20 yang per unit per year and an additional 4 yang for interest (i) to the government, they could use the land as though it was private land. When the rent rates in the postal station lands greatly increased during the Kwangmu period, this annual payment of 24 yang per unit (i.e., per 10 ilgyong) began to approach the rent of 20 yang per 1 ilgyong on postal station lands. In other words, the rents for military lands had been only one-tenth as much as the rents for postal station lands.77 The local government considered this practice inappropriate and attempted to bring the military lands under its jurisdiction. If the government returned to the cultivators 20 yang, the original payment for a unit (not including interest), it could apply the high rental rate of postal station lands to the military lands. Since this meant a significant increase in tenant rent for the same lands, the tenants were unwilling to accept the change. The Kanggye magistrate complained that powerful figures (hosebae) in the prefecture resisted this measure. This low rent rate on the military lands allowed some individuals to be intermediary rent collectors (chungdoju). They rerented those lands and seized half of the crops for rent. The magistrate insisted that these “crooks” prompted the resistance, pretended to express “the people’s resentment,” and made “fraudulent” claims against the government.78 Similar conflicts between the cultivators of military lands and the local government were found in other areas of the province. The Ilchinhoe in those areas repudiated the local government’s right to claim rents from military lands. The provincial chair of the Ilchinhoe sent a letter to the governor on November 29, 1905, quoting in his letter a report from the head of the Ilchinhoe branch in Songch’on, whose members argued that the local government had imposed rents for military lands (kunjon), lands for local defense (panggunjon), and lands for military funds (kun’gunjon) on “empty grounds.” They insisted that the people in the prefecture had originally raised funds (ippon) together to finance the military’s supplies and to replenish its funds. The Ilchinhoe argued that the tenants could stop paying rent for military lands because they possessed these lands in exchange for their contribution to 77. In Kanggye, the rent for 1 ilkyong was 20 yang in 1904, according to the 8 tu rate (palduse). 78. KSTN, 38:182–183.

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the funds for military agencies and supplies. The Ilchinhoe branch office reported this decision to the Ilchinhoe headquarters and asked the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) to let their decision be known to the central government. The Ilchinhoe afterward forbade the local government to deliver the collected taxes, totaling 1,997 yang 8 chon 4 p’un, to the Royal Treasury. The local government stored this money in the local office and allowed the Ilchinhoe to keep a receipt for it. The commissioner for rent collection at the time, Won Yong-gyu, demanded that this money be paid to the Royal Treasury. He did not accept the Ilchinhoe’s arguments that government tax collections from the military lands were groundless. If the rents were affiliated with the local militia, he argued, they should become the revenue of the Royal Treasury. The Ilchinhoe’s debate with the commissioner became more complicated because it interacted with the issue of land ownership. Ilchinhoe members argued that the military fund lands (kun’gunjon), the defense military lands (panggunjon), and the lands for military loan (hoch’aejon) in Songch’on were all privately owned lands (mut’o). They also insisted that the government had collected interest on the lands even though it had not invested any funds (mubon) in them. The Ilchinhoe refused to pay rents on these lands because the government was not supposed to collect rents on lands that it did not own or invest in. As noted before, this complicated situation frequently arose because many lands that were privately owned yet affiliated with public agencies had been added to the list of taxable lands (sungch’ong) during the cadastral surveys of the Kabo cabinet and the Kwangmu government. If the protestors could not prove their ownership of the lands, they were required to pay rent to the government in addition to taxes. This caused the aforementioned problems of “double taxes on a single land” and an increase in tax payment required of the protestors. Ilchinhoe members insisted that the lands in dispute were privately owned and requested that the government observe its own regulations. The Songch’on magistrate estimated that the viewpoints of the people in his prefecture supported those of the Ilchinhoe members.79 In summary, the Kanggye and Songch’on cases reveal one of the methods whereby military expenses were financed in the province. In Kanggye, people raised funds (ippon) at the rate of 20 yang per unit (kwa) of military land (kunjon) in exchange for cultivation rights. The cultivators paid 20 yang per kwa for the annual fee and 4 yang per kwa for the interest (on the original funds), which presumably covered the military expenses. Since 1 kwa was equivalent to 10 ilgyong, the annual fee for military lands was much lower than the rental rate for postal station rents (which was 20 yang per 1 ilgyong), especially given that rent 79. Ibid., 38:257.

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rates in cash on the public lands greatly increased during the Kwangmu period. The cultivators of military lands rerented the lands and collected rents at a 50 percent rate. The local government attempted to return the original payment of the cultivators—20 yang per unit—and eliminate this practice. Not surprisingly, the cultivators resisted this change. In the case of Songch’on, the cultivators demanded that the government recognize their private ownership of the lands, on the grounds that they had obtained them in exchange for the funds they had paid toward military expenses (ippon). The cultivators of military lands opposed the government policy of eliminating their privileges and applying the rate for postal station lands to military lands. The low rent rates on these military lands prompted some cultivators to become intermediate rent collectors (chungdoju) who collected high rents from their rerented lands. Refusing to pay the same rent rate applied to postal station lands, they demanded that the government recognize their private ownership of the lands. These cases differed from the tenant protests, which were aimed primarily at reducing rent rates and removing “additional” rents. Given the complex land ownership system of the public lands, however, this type of request could have made tenant protests on these lands more intense and even, possibly, radical.

Transferring Public Lands to Ilchinhoe Schools The Ilchinhoe leadership devised a creative strategy for solving the issue of ownership of public lands and for retaining the gains from its struggles to reduce rent rates: it affiliated the military colony lands with its schools and kept the “rent surplus” for the purpose of educating its members. “Rent surplus” refers to the gap between previously paid rents and the reduced amounts after the Ilchinhoe eliminated “additional rents.” In April 1905, the head of the Ilchinhoe branch in Songch’on, Sok I-won, submitted a co-signed letter to the local magistrate about the establishment of a school. The letter asked that the government allow the Ilchinhoe to affiliate rents from the disputed military lands with a school called “Tongmyong,” which the Ilchinhoe had built to educate talented youth in the area.80 This Ilchinhoe strategy to transfer the rent surplus to its schools became widespread, and it connected the resistance of its members on public lands in various areas to its desire to establish modern schools. The Ilchinhoe hoped to transform the purpose of the public lands from financing government expenses 80. Ibid., 38:263.

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to funding its own schools. On September 16, 1904, the head of the Ilchinhoe branch in Yongyu, Kim To-sun, petitioned the Royal Treasury about the Tokchi colony lands (Tokchi tunt’o) in his area. He asked the Royal Treasury to reduce the rental rate according to government regulations and permit the Ilchinhoe to keep the surplus from the lands for school finances. After the colony lands, originally belonging to military institutions, had been transferred to the Royal Treasury, he argued, their annual rent rate increased from 500–600 yang to 13,070. In addition, the actual rent rate was much higher than the assessed amount because tax inspectors (tungam) from the Royal Treasury collected more for their personal profit. He insisted that the inspectors had imposed ten times more rent than the amount calculated according to the original fixed rate. The Ilchinhoe head refused to pay this additional burden and expressed his wish to transfer the “rent surplus” to the organization’s local school. He wrote, “If the surplus was used for a school, it would contribute [to the people] and allow them to fulfill their responsibility to become enlightened.”81 The Ilchinhoe’s affiliation of military or civil colony lands with its schools was a widespread phenomenon in P’yongan Province.82 In March 1905, Ilchinhoe members in Chasong prevented government officials from collecting rents on military colony lands in their areas and insisted on affiliating the lands with their school.83 Ilchinhoe members in Songch’on also occupied the colony lands of the Kyujangkak (the archival library of the Choson dynasty) and those of the local government (kwandundap and yongdundap) and appropriated the grain from the lands for their school. Charging excessive collection of rents by the tax collectors, they argued that it would be better to use the grain for education than for increasing the tax collectors’ profit. The head of the Ilchinhoe branch in Uiju, Paek Yu-mok, wrote in his letter to the government on March 4, 1905, “The progress of enlightenment is wholly related to the development of schools. The rise of schools depends on their financial prosperity. . . . If the government gives the right of tax collection to the Ilchinhoe, then they will pay to the government the amount designated in the government regulation and use the surplus from the lands to finance the schools.”84 The Ilchinhoe in Chasong Prefecture did not pay the taxes for military lands and instead used the money for the schools. The magistrate reported to the Kyongniwon in March 1906 that he was unable to stop this practice.85 The Ilchinhoe also 81. Ibid., 38:197–198, 201. 82. Ibid., 38:237. 83. Ibid., 38:255. The local magistrate opposed this demand. He argued that it was inappropriate for a private organization to control rent collection even if the establishment of schools was urgently needed in order to bring enlightenment. 84. Ibid., 38:250. 85. Ibid., 38:254–256.

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tried to cultivate abandoned lands in some areas to finance its schools. The Pakch’on magistrate, for instance, received a request on May 27, 1905, from the principal of the Pakmyong School, Yu Chong-ju, and the head of the Ilchinhoe branch, Cho Kyong-sun, requesting permission to cultivate abandoned lands in order to fund the school.86

Political Impact of the Ilchinhoe Tax Resistance The Ilchinhoe successfully mobilized merchants, traders, miners, and tenants of public lands in their tax resistance. They expelled tax-collecting officials in the riverside areas and temporarily abolished miscellaneous taxes before the Japanese protectorate intervened. They were actively involved in widespread tenant protests on public lands and significantly reduced the rent rates on those lands. They transferred the surplus generated from the reduction of rent rates on public lands to Ilchinhoe schools, which emphasized modern education curricula and the teaching of the Japanese language. The group also petitioned the government to transfer rents on military lands to its schools. The Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance was primarily economic, yet its impact quickly led to political conflict with the Korean government because it threatened the Royal Treasury, the financial base of the Kwangmu government. The Ilchinhoe’s success in tax resistance enhanced its status among the people and influenced their attitudes toward the state. Some local magistrates testified that public opinion in their prefectures was identical with that of the Ilchinhoe. Other officials lamented that the Ilchinhoe had subverted the traditional relationship between state officials and the people. Some protestors involved in tax resistance humiliated tax officials in public and demanded that they follow the Ilchinhoe’s directives. Popular support of the Ilchinhoe forced government officials to acknowledge the Ilchinhoe’s role as a “de facto representative” of the people. Some officials tried to “negotiate” with the Ilchinhoe headquarters or its local leaders to solve the troubles in their areas, rather than simply antagonizing local Ilchinhoe members. This was indeed a “triumphant” moment in the Ilchinhoe’s movement. Ilchinhoe members in the tax resistance movement often referred to the tax policies of the former Kabo government to buttress their arguments for refusing to pay the miscellaneous taxes or the excessive rents on public lands. They demanded that the government reinstate the reformist policies of the Kabo government. This suggests that the people did not welcome the reversal of Kabo 86. Ibid., 38:312.

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policies during the Kwangmu reform. The Ilchinhoe understood societal resentment against this reversal and accordingly fostered popular demand for the reinstatement of Kabo policies. By doing so, the Ilchinhoe effectively established its leading role in the tax resistance and claimed to speak for the underprivileged people against the Korean government and its officials. This active engagement of the Ilchinhoe with popular issues stands in sharp contrast to other reformist elites who dissociated themselves from the people and their economic agendas. The Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance in general was a popular challenge to the state and its officials. The Ilchinhoe urged the people to struggle for their immediate interests regardless of any long-term effects this might have on the fate of the Korean state. The Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance seriously reduced the revenues of the Royal Treasury and undermined the power of the Korean monarch. Ilchinhoe members also demonstrated this anti-state position when they attempted to transfer military lands from the Royal Treasury to Ilchinhoe schools, a move that ran counter to the state’s need to strengthen the Korean army at a time of imperialist encroachment. In this sense, the politics of the Ilchinhoe might be characterized as a pathological variant of populism, one that vaguely articulated the “interests of the people” yet provided no long-term political prospects for defending those interests.

6 SUBVERTING LOCAL SOCIETY Ilchinhoe Legal Disputes, 1904–1907

Landownership and its reform in agrarian society were burning issues that changed Korea’s historical course in the twentieth century. The cadastral survey of the Kwangmu government moved in the direction of clarifying the private ownership of landowners and streamlined complicated property rights in the lands affiliated with government agencies. This process accompanied the Korean emperor Kojong’s own endeavor to reinforce the financial power of the monarch and to concentrate all the public lands under the control of the Royal Treasury. As shown in the previous chapter, the Ilchinhoe’s movements addressed some popular reactions to Kojong’s financial reform and had critical social ramifications in local areas. The Ilchinhoe’s local disputes showed variations in the two regions, P’yongan and Ch’ungch’ong provinces, analyzed in this chapter. Despite their variations, the Ilchinhoe disputes in both areas exposed a populist orientation—the assertion of the people’s power and interests defined against the government’s authority and the social establishment. Simultaneously, the Ilchinhoe’s local strife could not avoid the common pitfalls found in other populist movements, namely, ambiguity in identifying “the people’s interests” and difficulty in creating a sustainable procedure for enforcing “the people’s power” among the broader population loaded with conflicting interests and values. Local responses to the movement in P’yongan Province differed in two primary areas of concern: public lands and miscellaneous taxes. On the one hand, Ilchinhoe protests concerning public lands produced many legal disputes over tenant rights, property rights, and tenant supervisor positions. These disputes 194

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might be called the Ilchinhoe’s “new local strife.” Local Ilchinhoe members disrupted the nexus of economic interests and political privileges that the existing local elites and other regional actors had established on those lands. On the other hand, the Ilchinhoe’s movements to eliminate miscellaneous taxes exposed the discontent of local taxpayers and officials with the agents of the Royal Treasury. Cho Chong-yun, the treasury’s commissioner in P’yongan Province, observed that these conflicts in a few cases developed into a “local alliance against the Korean monarch” between Ilchinhoe members, the heads of local elite associations, and the local magistrates. This so-called local alliance implies that when the Korean emperor moved most of the revenue sources into the Royal Treasury and directly dispatched its tax-collecting officials, he unsettled the old state networks interconnecting the local magistrates, local clerks, and the officials of the local elite associations. Some of these magistrates and local elites used the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance as an excuse to reclaim their control over the taxes. This “alliance” was, however, temporary and parochial because the hostility of local elites toward the Ilchinhoe members was deep, and the Japanese protectorate eventually forced the Ilchinhoe to discontinue its resistance. Pressed to expand its own revenue sources, the Japanese protectorate feared the Ilchinhoe’s interventions in the tax administration. According to a November 1904 Japanese army survey, more than 50 percent of Ilchinhoe leaders recorded their status as former officials or literati, and the remainder were from lower social groups. Hayashi Yusuke quotes that among the forty-nine Ilchinhoe officials (yowgon), twenty-one were recorded as being former officials, two were chinsa (advanced scholars), and twenty-six were literati. Among the 883 Chinbohoe officials, there were twenty-two former officials, four former chinsa (chon chinsa), 403 literati (sain), 316 peasants (nongin), and 138 merchants (sangin). It is unclear to which social status group exactly the category of literati belonged. Hayashi proposes that future research investigate the mechanism and process through which the high proportion of literati (sain) in the Ilchinhoe leadership coalesced with the Tonghak peasants. He speculates that the sain category may have corresponded to the sinhyang, or new local elite, who had experienced local strife vis-à-vis the old aristocrats since the eighteenth century. Hayashi suggests that the exploitative measures of the Choson state had alienated the new local elite (sinhyang) from state officials and caused them to ally themselves with discontented peasants.1 Kim Chong-jun also argues that local Ilchinhoe reignited this local strife over local power (hyangkwon), specifically

1. Hayashi Yusuke, “Undo dantai toshite no Isshinkai,” pp. 46–48.

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in terms of the rights over taxation and local administration.2 His more recent work finds that some key leaders of the Ilchinhoe were former “stewards” (kyomin) of high officials or aristocrats.3 It is important to understand the mode or mechanism through which the Ilchinhoe leaders mobilized “the people” and formed an alliance of its members from various social backgrounds. In this chapter, I propose that this mode was “populist.” The Ilchinhoe’s disputes in Ch’ungch’ong Province were focused on control of the public lands and the redistribution of tenant rights. In comparison to the cases from P’yongan Province, Kaksa Tungnok’s records from Ch’ungch’ong Province are more homogeneous and rarely include the Ilchinhoe members’ own petitions about the disputed cases.4 The Ch’ungch’ong records mainly deliver the voices and emotions of the Ilchinhoe’s opponents in local areas, in which Ilchinhoe members are described as “greedy,” “illegal,” or “cruel” “rogues.” The Ilchinhoe branches in Ch’ungch’ong made a bold and uniform move to control the jurisdiction of all public lands in the province, evict existing tenants from the lands, and transfer tenant rights to Ilchinhoe members or people who agreed to join the group. Some records show that this process was not totally arbitrary. The Ch’ungch’ong branches set a few rules in the eviction and redistribution of public lands, although they did not seem to rein in the eagerness of the Ilchinhoe tenants to secure even a small piece of land to till. The renowned economic historian of Korea, Kim Yong-sop, and his followers have suggested two potential pathways for resolving the problems of landownership in the late Choson dynasty: a bourgeois reform and a popular solution. They argue that the 1894 Kabo Reform and the following cadastral survey of the Korean government consolidated the first path, legally confirming the private ownership of landlords and neglecting the peasants’ demands for land reform. They assume that the 1894 Tonghak Rebellion expressed the second solution, which was articulated in the land reform article of the peasant army’s reform platform. Young Ick Lew has been suspicious of this idea. Lew perceives the 1894 rebellion as a more conservative movement led by the marginalized yet still Confucian elites who envisioned monarchical restoration but no more than that. Lew argues that there is no evidence of a demand for land reform in the 1894 peasant army’s own documents or other government sources produced during the time and that the only evidence that does exist is in the secondary source

2. Kim Chong-jun, “Ilchinhoe chihoe ui hwaltong kwa hyanch’on sahoe ui tonghyang,” MA thesis, Seoul National University, 2001. 3. Kim Chong-jun, Ilchinhoe ui Munmyonghwaron kwa Ch’inil Hwaltong (Seoul: Sin’gu Munhwasa, 2010), p. 49. 4. In one case, a tenant supervisor refuted the allegation that he had been associated with the Ilchinhoe.

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Tonghak History, written in the colonial period. Lew suspects that the land reform article was added later by the author of that work, informed by the Marxian ideas popular in the colonial period.5 The practice of Ilchinhoe Ch’ungch’ong branches may add depth to this debate. Petitioners from this area called branch members “Ilchinhoe-Ch’ondogyo” and recognized their Tonghak origins. Peasant members in the Ch’ungch’ong branches expressed their discontent with the land distribution and tried to secure their interests through all means possible. The Ch’ungch’ong branches took a particularistic solution. They attempted to distribute tenant lands to the Ilchinhoe peasants by assuming the branches’ administrative jurisdiction over state-owned lands. This solution was a limited but possible way to address the anxiety and desire of the Ilchinhoe peasants for land when their leaders did not envisage a revolution or a full-scale land reform under the state’s initiative. The records from both P’yongan and Ch’ungch’ong confirm that the Ilchinhoe headquarters in the capital tried to regulate the actions of local branch members. At the advent of its movement, the Ilchinhoe instructed its members not to use the organization’s power for their personal interests. In November 1904, for example, the Korea Daily News reported that Ilchinhoe headquarters had expelled two local members who had tried to recover their lands affiliated with the Royal Treasury. The members had visited the residence of the minister of the Royal Treasury and said that the treasury’s tax collector had taken their “private” lands. The members of the Ilchinhoe committee on law and regulation (sabop-wiwon), Yom Chung-mo and Yang Chae-ik, inspected the case and decided that the local members should have reported to headquarters and followed legitimate procedure. The committee warned that the local members had violated the Ilchinhoe’s “true” purpose by joining the organization with the “wrong” intention of solving their land dispute.6 Perhaps this was one of the reasons that Ch’ungch’ong branch members did not submit their files and petitions to the Royal Treasury, which was not the case for P’yongan members. The Ilchinhoe headquarters apparently could not enforce its regulations on local branch members waging complicated disputes with other local actors over tenant rights, state-granted positions, or other privileges. These problems were aggravated when the Ilchinhoe emerged as a powerful organization and new power seekers joined the group to direct its resources for their personal benefit. The daily newspapers at the time called these power seekers “Ilchinhoe exploiters”

5. Lew Yong-Ick, “The Conservative Character of the 1894 Tonghak Peasant Uprising: Reappraisal with Emphasis on Chon Pong-jun’s Background and Motivation,” Journal of Korean Studies 7 (1990): 149–180. 6. KD, November 21, 1904.

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(chokt’akcha) and ascribed various local machinations to them.7 But this animosity against Ilchinhoe members’ “greed” also reflects the innate character of local strife, in which the interests of Ilchinhoe followers were defended without being bound to the established norms and privileges of the local elites and their associates. This resulted in numerous disputes that divided local society into Ilchinhoe followers and their local adversaries.

Political Persecution: Old Local Elites versus New Populists The Ilchinhoe led a critical non-elitist movement for greater political participation. The Korean government had recruited officials from a broader social base since the Kabo Reform and had integrated so-called secondary elites into the pool of state officials.8 While yangban aristocrats continued to maintain their own social distinction from non-yangban elites, non-aristocratic elites comprised a considerable portion of the officials in the Kwangmu government. These elites, however, were still “dignitaries” who distanced themselves from the “ignorant” ordinary people in the markets and countryside.9 One article in the Korea Daily News captures the viewpoint of such “enlightened elites” as they observed the ordinary people’s ardent participation in Ilchinhoe or Chinbohoe assemblies. The newspaper reprinted the Imperial Gazetteer’s report giving a traveler’s news from Hamgyong Province. He watched the Chinbohoe assemblies in Yonghung and Togwon in the province and observed that the participants were all “ignorant and illiterate” and “field-plowing” people in the countryside. The article transmitted the observer’s surprise that these ignorant people suddenly gathered in the towns and markets and made “big” speeches (ilchang yonsol) on the people’s “enlightenment,” the preservation of the state, and the protection of the people’s life and property. The article stressed 7. Kim Chong-jun, “Ilchinhoe chihoe ui hwaltong kwa hyanch’on sahoe ui tonghyang,” pp. 35– 51. 8. Kyung Moon Hwang, Beyond Birth: Social Status in the Emergence of Modern Korea (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2004); Kyung Moon Hwang, “Bureaucracy in the Transition to Korean Modernity: Secondary Status Groups and the Transformation of Government and Society, 1880–1930,” PhD diss., Harvard University, 1997. 9. The yangban maintained the exclusiveness of their aristocratic status and discriminated against elites who had emerged from other areas of Korean society. This produced discontent among elites such as secondary sons, or middlemen, and brought about challenges to the established power and privileges of the yangban aristocrats. These so-called secondary elites initiated local conflicts against the yangban in the eighteenth century and constituted an important social basis of the Enlightenment School in the nineteenth century. However, no matter how secondary their social status may have been, they were still elite members of society, for the existence and aspirations of secondary elites centered on state affairs, and their status was distinct from that of ordinary people.

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that these people had loathed foreigners in the past but in their new assemblies asked others to have their hair cut and to make friends with the Japanese for “enlightenment” and “progress.” The article reiterated that these people did not know a single letter (ilcha musik) and never understood the meaning of “enlightenment” or international events. They had just been “digging the soil” with unkempt hair (pongdu nanbal). Cherishing their hair like precious gold, the “fielddigging” men had called those with short hair “dwarfed barbarians,” a slur for the Japanese. This article did not demean the people in the assemblies but exposed the elite observer’s distance from these “ignorant” people as well as his astonishment at their sudden changes.10 More conservative local elites were hostile when these “ignoramuses” aspired to power in reliance on the Ilchinhoe organization and especially when they developed closer connections with the Japanese. From November 1904 on, the Korea Daily News reported various anti-Ilchinhoe schemes and rumors. Given the Korean emperor’s ordinance to repress the popular assemblies, the local magistrates and local defense army were the primary persecutors of the Ilchinhoe and launched various attacks on local members. The old local elites, including aristocrats and the heads of local elite associations, were the Ilchinhoe’s major local “foes.” In early January 1905, the paper reported that the Righteous Armies had already arisen in P’yongan Province and that some former officials (chon kwanin) had joined the troops in anti-Ilchinhoe attacks.11 The Confucian literati from Kyongsang area (yongnam yusaeng) submitted their anti-Ilchinhoe memorial to the Korean government.12 And the Korea Daily News wrote that, in spring 1905, circulars for organizing Righteous Armies had been distributed in the Kyongsang and Hamgyong (kwanpuk) areas.13 The Korean monarch used peddlers as active agents for fighting against the Ilchinhoe. Here “peddlers” refers to the traditional merchants who transported and sold commodities in regional markets. They maintained a strong organization whose status was authorized by the state. In the late nineteenth century, the monarch Kojong had mustered the organization to beat his political opponents.14 The Korea Daily News reported signs that the government was organizing the peddlers’ violence against the Ilchinhoe. It reported that “the gangs of fighters [p’yon ssamkkun] were recruited in the riverside areas of Seoul [ogang].”15 According to the newspaper, peddlers also tried to have their hair cut so as to

10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

KD, November 18, 1904. KD, January 5, 1904. KD, November 4, 1904. KD, March 6, 1905. IH, 1:70. KD, November 1, 1904.

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join the Ilchinhoe incognito and disrupt its movement. But this plan failed because the Ilchinhoe kept its secrets and organizational security well and soon found out about the peddlers’ conspiracy. The peddlers were then told (without any indication who was the source of the order) to return to their original regions and interfere with the Japanese military’s plans and to make this look as though it was being done by Chinbohoe members.16 The Ilchinhoe headquarters sent instructions to the Chinbohoe of Hamhung, close to the battleground of the Russo-Japanese War, that the Korean government had recently sent five or six hundred people with short hair to the region and ordered them to mistreat village people, set fire to their houses, and disturb Japanese military operations.17 The Chinbohoe in fact captured one of these “fake” members in Wonsan, but the local magistrate in Munch’on intervened and took him from the Chinbohoe.18 The Ilchinhoe asserted that the peddlers (pusangbae) had murdered and injured many of their members in P’yongyang, Hwangju, and Sohung, in the northwestern provinces.19 The Ilchinhoe had reason to believe that this violence originated with the Kongjinhoe (Common Progress Society), founded in December 1904, which mobilized the peddlers’ anti-Ilchinhoe assaults.20 Yi Yong-gu, then the chair of the local Ilchinhoe branches, received a message on December 27, 1904, that a leader of the peddlers (pusang bansu), Kim Yong-mun, and his son had organized the Kongjinhoe in Sohung Prefecture, Hwanghae Province. Yi identified the Kim father and son as powerful figures (hyopkwonja) in the town and among the constabulary officers (sun’gyo).21 In cooperation with the local magistrate, Kim Yong-mun had become the general chief (tot’ongsu) of the town districts (pang) and had strengthened the five-family unit system (ogajankt’ong) in each district. Then he had assembled the people under this system to attack Ilchinhoe members.22 Yi Yong-gu received successive reports on such assaults. The Ilchinhoe’s official history recorded the first violent assault of a local elite association against the Ilchinhoe in Kongju, Ch’ungch’ong Province, on December 24, 1904. The Korea Daily News reported this incident, quoting the telegram of the Kongju governor that the assault had occurred on December 22 and noting that about one thousand people in the country (ch’on paeksong) had gathered 16. KD, November 9, 1904. 17. KD, November 19, 1904. 18. KD, December 1 and 2, 1904. 19. IH, 1:69–71. 20. Ibid., 1:72. 21. The Kabo government abolished the traditional constabulary system (P’odoch’ong) and established a modern police institution, the Kyongmuch’ong. The sun’gyo or sun’gom refers to the lowest officer position in the system. It seems that the new police officers still took control of the traditional local security network, the five-family unit system. 22. IH, 1:71.

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and expelled Ilchinhoe members from the district. The Ilchinhoe headquarters in Seoul posted notices in Chongno that an “association of literati” (yugye) in Kongju had organized this attack, drowned many Ilchinhoe members, and robbed them of clothing, money, and other belongings.23 In other areas as well, Chinbohoe members with short hair met with violence at the hands of local government officials or soldiers, who stole their money and clothing and destroyed their houses and furniture. The Ilchinhoe were so angry that they planned to file cases against these officials and soldiers for compensation of the losses to their members.24 The Ilchinhoe instructed local branches to move up to the capital under a rigorous organizational command if Righteous Armies revolted in their areas and harmed Ilchinhoe members. The Ilchinhoe headquarters promised that it would protect local members.25 By early February 1905, the P’yongan Ilchinhoe branch was confident about the security of its members, according to the Korea Daily News. They denied that Ilchinhoe members had been “mistaken” for “Tonghaks” and faced serious troubles in Northern P’yongan Province. The branch planned to hold a new meeting soon following receipt of one thousand copies of the member regulations (kyuch’ikch’aek) from the Seoul headquarters.26 But that spring, serious antiIlchinhoe assaults broke out in Tokch’on and Maengsan, P’yongan Province. The Japanese military had occupied these areas after the outbreak of the RussoJapanese War. It ordered the Ilchinhoe to investigate the size of the fields and paddies, the yield of annual crops, and the number of households in several areas.27 This order directly usurped the status and roles of the local elite associations that traditionally had charge of tax collection and distribution of services. Infuriated local elites erupted into violence in the spring of 1905 against the Ilchinhoe, whom they accused of working as agents of the Japanese army.28 The officials of local elite associations in the counties and subcounties joined together to capture Ilchinhoe members. They said that it was no crime to kill those who cut their hair and wore black clothes, as Ilchinhoe members did. They seized Ilchinhoe members’ grain, money, cows, and horses. The Ilchinhoe headquarters criticized the provincial governor and the local magistrate for ignoring the violence taking place and requested that the minister of the interior arrest the leaders of the violence and adjudicate their crimes in the higher judicial courts.29 23. Ibid., 1:69–71. 24. KD, January 11, 1904. 25. KD, December 29, 1904. 26. KD, February 13, 1905. 27. KSTN, 40:29–30. 28. Yi Yong-ho, Han’guk Kundae Chise Chedo wa Nongmin Undong (Seoul: Seoul National University Press, 2001), p. 358. 29. IH, 2:56.

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A similar incident followed in Ch’olsan, when in March 1905 its magistrate, aided by the prefectural head and other staff of the local elite association (hyangjang and hyangim) and commander of the Righteous Army in the prefecture, organized an attack against the Ilchinhoe. They also called up the peddlers who were affiliated with the local government (kwansok pobusangbae) and had them encircle the Ilchinhoe’s office. They attacked seventeen Ilchinhoe members and destroyed their belongings in the office. They also smashed the neighboring houses of Ilchinhoe members.30 In Sonch’on, in March 1905, local elites imposed heavy labor burdens on Ilchinhoe members, even though they had already, for three or four months, endured the hardships of railway construction and delivery of military provisions for the Japanese army. These local elites were the prefectural head of the local elite association (hyangjang), the chief county administrator (myon chipkang), and the official village head (tongim). Some local landlords so hated the haircuts of the Ilchinhoe members that they deprived the members of their tenant rights.31 These political assaults against local Ilchinhoe members were closely related to the Korean emperor’s ordinances to repress the Ilchinhoe. They also reflected some anti-Japanese sentiments in local elite society. The local governments mobilized official state networks to organize the assaults, and the heads of local associations assisted such acts. In some cases, the local elite associations independently organized violent anti-Ilchinhoe attacks when the Japanese military usurped the roles of the elite associations and designated Ilchinhoe members as their replacement. These political assaults were followed by much more complicated local disputes, as detailed in the next section.

P’yngan Province Ilchinhoe Conflicts with Old Tenant Supervisors The initial persecution by the Korean government did not prevent the Ilchinhoe from conducting a successful tax resistance movement and many economic disputes against other local actors. The old tenant supervisors on the public lands were the primary victims of the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance and sent many petitions to the Royal Treasury. The role of the tenant supervisors (saum) resembled that of the intermediary rent collectors: they aided the tax officials dispatched from the central government. Some supervisors had held their positions for decades, and in some cases the post had been in their families for generations. Su30. Ibid., 2:68. 31. Ibid., 2:37.

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pervisors kept their rights even after jurisdiction over the lands had been transferred to the Royal Treasury from other government agencies. It is unlikely that many of these agents were yangban aristocrats, although some of them identified themselves as such. In their anger, the old tenant supervisors made numerous legal accusations against the Ilchinhoe. These accusations help clarify the diverse characteristics of local disputes in which the Ilchinhoe were involved. For example, in May 1906, the tenant supervisor of the public lands (tun saum) in Yongch’on, Kim Sa-gil, petitioned the local magistrate that some Ilchinhoe members had seized 36 sok of grain intended for the state’s revenues (konggok). The local magistrate accepted the validity of this accusation and ordered the members to return the grain to Kim. When the magistrate arrested Chong Chi-hong, an Ilchinhoe member, and examined him in front of Kim, Chong explained the long historical background of his protest. Kim Sa-gil’s father, Kim Ch’i-myong, had obtained the position of tenant supervisor (saum) in 1883. He surveyed the lands that the father of the Ilchinhoe member Chong and other tenants owned. Kim then forcefully took, Chong charged, the official documents that gave tenants rights over their lands (kongmun) and added these lands to the public lands. Chong argued that times had changed in favor of the reformers, making it possible for him now to denounce Kim’s “crime.” Chong finished his defense with the following remarks: “Although the tenants have not complained because they feared Kim’s threats, with the arrival of the time of reform and the return of the heavenly way [ch’ondo sunhwan], they now wish to recover their lands.”32 Kim Sa-gil responded to this accusation in defense of his father. When his father was the tenant supervisor of the Kwangch’on dike, an official dispatched from the capital had investigated the lands in the area and included the lands that belonged to Chong and other tenants in the public lands. It had been more than twenty years since the lands in question had been added to the public lands. Kim refused to return the lands, asking, “How can I return to Chong the lands that an official from the central government registered during the incumbency of my father?”33 The twelve Ilchinhoe-related tenants in Anju Prefecture refuted Kim’s defense and sent the Royal Treasury their petition arguing that the Kims had stolen the land from the tenants.34 The tenants began their petition with a general statement 32. KSTN, 38:267. 33. Ibid., 38:266–267. 34. The names of the tenants were Chong Chi-hong, Kim Kyu-sop, Yi Myong-sun, Han Ungson, Ch’a Chong-ho, Ch’a Hak-sung, Kim Son-gun, So Myong-jo, Sin Yun-ok, So Sang-dam, Yang Chuy-ong, and Ch’oe Si-jung.

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about the importance of the people, arguing, “Only the people are the foundation of the country; after the foundation is stable, the country will be able to be the master of all countries [man’guk chi sangjon].” They described the Kims as typically corrupt officials who had bribed high officials in the central government and exploited the people. The tenants recounted the history of the land. The Kwangch’on dike located in Yongch’on Prefecture had originally been affiliated with the hall of the prefectural local association (hyangdang). The tenants had paid 180 yang for their rent. Kim Ch’i-myong took advantage of his son’s power as a eunuch and obtained the post of tenant supervisor (saum) of the dike in the fall of 1883. He evicted the tenants from 12 ilgyong of land. After this incident, the tenants had petitioned for four years and received a positive judgment from the central government. Nevertheless, the Kims did not accept its directives and plotted with the local government to intervene in the dispute and arrest the tenants who were continuing protests against them. The Ilchinhoe tenants emphasized that the Kims had stolen the official documents for the lands because the disputed lands were not originally public lands but rather the private property of the tenants (mindap). They insisted that their ownership was recorded in the registries of the prefecture (kunan). The tenants concluded the petition by pleading, “The power of the eunuchs dispossessed us of our freedom and properties and our naturally endowed rights [chayu chaesan kwa ch’onbu kwolli]. Without freedom and rights, we are no different from the dead even though we are living. We vow to die if our petition is not truthful.” The Royal Treasury refused to accept this eloquent petition and described it as “extremely presumptuous” (uguk mut’an). The Royal Treasury considered it inappropriate that the tenants insisted on their private ownership of fields that had been added to the public lands and assigned a fixed amount of rent for many years. The treasury warned the tenants that they would be punished if they repeated this disturbance.35 Whereas Kim Sa-gil’s case started with challenges by tenants to recover their rights over the lands, there were also cases in which tenant supervisors attempted to recover their posts and customary rights over public lands of which the Ilchinhoe had deprived them. Yi Hong-sop in Songch’on wrote a petition in June 1906 about 10.5 ilgyong of public land that had been affiliated with the Kyujanggak (Archival Library of the Choson dynasty). Yi described his status as an aristocrat (sain) and his post as a tenant supervisor (saum) in his petition. Yi described the customary practice of farming public lands in P’yongan (Kwanso) and Hwang35. KSTN, 37:2–3.

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hae (Haeso) provinces as follows: if tenant supervisors met their obligations to pay a certain amount of rent (mae tojon ch’ulgup hu) on the public lands, he wrote, they were not much different from private owners. For fifty years Yi had never missed paying the annual rent of 500 yang on the disputed land. Suddenly, in March 1906, Ilchinhoe members Yun Chong-sop and Kim Kwang-dong insisted that Yi’s lands were public lands and then appropriated them and affiliated them with an Ilchinhoe school. Yi complained that rent collection from the public lands must be based on government authorization, yet the Ilchinhoe had taken the lands during the farming season without any legal grounds. He asked the Royal Treasury to admonish the Ilchinhoe members and to verify his position again with a document of authorization.36 The commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) in the prefecture approved Yi’s petition and ordered the Ilchinhoe to halt their attachment of the lands to the school. However, the Ilchinhoe branch was powerful enough to refuse the order. The Ilchinhoe secured the post of tenant supervisor for one of their members and confiscated Yi’s barley crop to cover the rent. Yi requested that the Royal Treasury arrest the Ilchinhoe members and force them to return his barley. He asked “how a man from a distant countryside [hat’o] could defend himself if even government orders could not restrain the Ilchinhoe members.”37 Another tenant supervisor, So Sin-bong in Yonggang Prefecture, made a similar accusation against the Ilchinhoe’s evictions in June 1906. He had been the tenant supervisor (saum) of the Chok dike in the prefecture for about ten years. In 1906, after So finished seeding the fields, the Ilchinhoe member Kim Kwan-sin became the head of the local association in the prefecture (hyangjang) and evicted So from the fields surrounding the dike. Kim then transferred the tenant rights to Ilchinhoe members. So protested to the Royal Treasury that the Ilchinhoe had relied on the force of the masses and deprived him of his land without government authorization.38 In many cases, the legal disputes against the Ilchinhoe resulted from conflicts over customary tenant rights or property rights on public lands whose ownership was unclear or complex. This problem is found, for example, in a legal suit that the supervisor of the palace lands brought against the Ilchinhoe. The stewards (tojang) of Kyongwu Palace petitioned the local government in November 1906 about the palace manor (changt’o) located in Kasan. When they attempted to construct a dike in fields attached to the palace lands, some Ilchinhoe

36. Ibid., 37:1. 37. Ibid., 37:24–25. 38. Ibid., 37:8–9.

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members asserted that the reed fields belonged to the Changsach’ong, a military agency. The local government supported the position of the stewards and forbade the Ilchinhoe from interrupting the construction of the dike. The Ilchinhoe members refused to follow the demand of the stewards and sent their own petition to the Royal Treasury. When the Royal Treasury approved their accusation, the members took the hay from the palace field and sold it. The stewards were exasperated, claiming that it would be impossible to protect the ownership of private and public lands if the Royal Treasury accepted such false statements from the Ilchinhoe. The protests of the palace stewards made the Royal Treasury reverse its previous approval of the Ilchinhoe tenants.39 The disputes between palace stewards and Ilchinhoe members continued without resolution. The director (kunggam) of Kyongu Palace prepared a petition in January 1907 accusing Ilchinhoe members of refusing to follow the directive of the Royal Treasury. He attached to the petition land registries (yangan) of the palace lands and tried to invalidate Ilchinhoe claims over the land. The stewards wondered why the local government did not possess its own records of the land if it had belonged to the Changsach’ong.40 The Ilchinhoe replied in March 1907. Although the original document on the lands was unavailable at the time, the local magistrate examined the testimonies of village elders and delivered his verdict that the Ilchinhoe’s argument was convincing. This verdict returned the lands from the palace to the Royal Treasury. Even if Ilchinhoe members conceded that the land belonged to the palace, it was connected to the public lands, and the areas inside the dike were in any case not within the palace property. The Ilchinhoe members had already invested much money (manyogum) for the construction of the dike; if the land was transferred to the palace, they argued, it would inflict great financial damage on them.41 According to the aforementioned cases, the tenant supervisors in public lands had the right to collect rent and to assign tenant rights. In P’yongan Province, they were effectively no different from landlords once they satisfied their obligations to the government to pay the annual rent for the lands. They could hold their positions for many years and pass them on to family members. There were two categories of tenant supervisor in the public lands: some obtained their authorizations through their connections to the central state, as was true in the case of Kim Ch’i-myong, the father of a palace eunuch, whereas others invested their own resources in the public lands and possessed customary rights over them. In

39. Ibid., 37:41. 40. Ibid., 37:51. 41. Ibid., 37:75.

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the latter cases, the Ilchinhoe’s assaults on the tenant supervisors undermined their platform to “protect the property rights of the people.” The Ilchinhoe appropriated the posts of tenant supervisors or attached public lands to local Ilchinhoe schools. Since the Royal Treasury under the Japanese protectorate was deprived of its power to enforce its order in local society, its directives against the Ilchinhoe in many cases in P’yongan Province could not prevent the old tenant supervisors from losing their posts.

Ilchinhoe Disputes with Old Tenants on Public Lands The Ilchinhoe had many legal disputes with the old tenants of public lands. The arguments of these old tenants were similar to those of the old tenant supervisors who had invested their private resources and obtained customary rights over lands. For example, Yi Un-sop petitioned the Royal Treasury in July 1906 over the Uruk dike attached to the Tokchi dike in Yongyu Prefecture. Yi argued that construction of the dike had originally reclaimed a flooded area of deserted public land. Yi had constructed the dike with his own resources and improved the irrigation in the area. After he reclaimed the land, he obtained the right to cultivate it. He paid 22 sok in rice for rent each year to the director of the Tokchi dike (tungam). In 1905, however, Ilchinhoe members suddenly prohibited him from harvesting from his fields. They forced Yi to pay the rent in cash and prevented him from approaching the fields.42 Yi attached related documents to his petition and requested that the Royal Treasury secure his right of tenancy on the land. Kim Sang-uk in Pakch’on Prefecture was another tenant who had been deprived of his fields in the public lands. He had also reclaimed the fields with his own resources and obtained rights over them. Kim raised a legal accusation in October 1906 that An Ik-hyon in Anju had collaborated with Ilchinhoe member Han Won-mo and robbed Kim of the barley crop from his fields in the spring of 1906. Kim argued that An had had his son make a false accusation and had thus obtained a government decision against Kim. According to Kim, An and some Ilchinhoe members had ordered the tenants of Kim’s fields to seize the annual crop from the land in the fall of 1906. Kim asked that the Royal Treasury make An return the stolen crops and allow the petitioner to continue his tenancy on the land.43 Yi Kwan-sop in Yongch’on made a similar accusation in May 1907. He had constructed a dike with his own resources in the fields of the public lands located in Tonghak County. He received an official document that authorized him to 42. Ibid., 37:12–13. 43. Ibid., 37:36.

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rent the fields for ten years at an annual rate of 5 sok in grain. Yi argued that the tenants, Sonu Nae-gyong, Chang Chae-ch’un, and others, had become Ilchinhoe members in 1905 and took possession of all the crops in 1904 and 1905. The tenants took such actions with the excuse that the Ilchinhoe would take charge of rent collection on public lands.44 In yet another case, Kim Hyong-gwan and Han Pong-Jung in Yongch’on submitted their petitions against the Ilchinhoe in September 1906. They argued that they had bought from the provincial government the rights to the reed fields in Hwangch’opyong, located in Yongch’on Prefecture. The reeds were important agricultural products in the province because they provided raw materials for mats and blinds. Cho Chong-yun, the acting provincial governor of Northern P’yongan Province at the time, had affiliated the reed fields with the Bureau of Interpreters (T’onginch’ong) in 1903. The governor collected additional money from the fields as well as the original fixed rate of taxes (wonse) in order to cover the expenses of the bureau. When the Russo-Japanese War broke out in 1904, the government could not secure the necessary financial resources for the bureau, and almost all its interpreters scattered. Afterward, the governor sold the rights to the reed fields for a period of three years. Kim and Han bought the rights at the price of 2,500 yang and took charge of paying the original fixed-rate taxes each year. They insisted that the Ilchinhoe member Yi Tong-hwi and the head of the local association Yi T’ae-hyop had snatched 1,500 yang in 1905 from the sale of the reeds and had not returned the money to the petitioners. The Ilchinhoe member and the local head had attempted once again to take the reeds from the field in the fall of 1906. In a sarcastic remark, Kim characterized the Ilchinhoe as the “members enlightened to plunder” (kaemyong o hwakt’al chi hoemin). Questioning how such deeds could be the duty of the Ilchinhoe, Kim wrote that Yi Tong-hwi had ignored the purpose of enlightenment and concentrated on “wicked plots to plunder others.” Kim attached to his petition the documents of authorization issued by the provincial government.45 Kim and Han petitioned again in October 1906 that the Ilchinhoe member Yi Tong-hwi had disregarded the directive of the Royal Treasury to return the money to the petitioners and had sold the reeds to Qing merchants. The petitioners cynically asked how the Ilchinhoe could call such behavior an “enlightened” act.46 All four of these cases represent the disputes between the Ilchinhoe and intermediary rent collectors (chungdoju) during the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance over

44. Ibid., 37:83. 45. Ibid., 37:29. 46. Ibid., 37:31–32.

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public lands. The petitioners, far from being impoverished tenants, possessed material resources to invest in the lands or in other opportunities for profit. The first three petitioners argued that the Ilchinhoe had stirred up their tenants and seized their crops. This indicates that they had rerented the lands and were collecting a higher rent from the actual cultivators of the fields. As the Ilchinhoe had agreed only to the original rent and refused to pay additional rent, the petitioners could not enjoy any surplus after they paid rent to the government. In the case of the reed fields in Yongch’on, the petitioners were also “intermediary rent collectors.” They enjoyed a surplus from the reed fields after they paid the original tax (wonse) to the government. In this case, however, the exact nature of the Ilchinhoe involvement is not clear. All the petitioners insisted that they were entitled to collect additional rents or profits from the lands because of their own material investments and that they had received government authorization to do so. They considered the Ilchinhoe’s actions a violation of such authorization, illegal and abusive. The social status of these tenants was closer to that of the old tenant supervisors than to impoverished peasant tenants. The petitioners had accumulated a certain degree of wealth and acquired state-authorized privileges with their wealth. These privileges, including the right to collect additional rents, had allowed them to further increase their wealth. In short, state-granted privileges were crucial to the petitioners’ ability to maintain their status and prosperity. They thus benefited from state power and the authority of the old regime. The Ilchinhoe in these four cases refused to accept such state-granted privileges and defended the interests of tenant cultivators against the intermediary rent collectors. The wealthy renters of the reed fields mocked such acts as “predatory” rather than “enlightening.”

Ilchinhoe Tenant Supervisors Ilchinhoe members succeeded to the posts of the former tenant supervisors after their successful tax resistance movement. In Chongju, Ilchinhoe members constituted the majority of tenant supervisors on the public lands and continued to refuse to turn rent over to the central government. Government records indicate that the Ilchinhoe tenants of public lands selected their own tenant supervisors and entrusted them with the roles of the old tenant supervisors (ilchinhoe saum chuk cha ilchinhoe ro cha t’aekcha ya). Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors were responsible for more than 80 percent of the unpaid taxes in Chongju, according to a report by Cho Chong-yun, the commissioner of the Royal Treasury in Northern P’yongan Province, in November 1907. The cash value of this unpaid rent for public lands (minap kongt’o kokka) amounted to 5,614 yang 9 chon 5 p’un. Out

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TABLE 4. Unpaid taxes on public lands in Chpngju Prefecture, Northern P’ypngan Province, November 1907 GOVERNMENT TENANT SUPERVISORS (KWANSAU M)

ILCHINHOE TENANT SUPERVISORS NAME

UNPAID TAXES (IN CASH)

NAME

UNPAID TAXES (IN GRAIN)

Yi Chun-su

1,368 yang 8 chpn

No Ypng-spn

13 spk 5 svng

5 p’un Kim Su-in

988 yang

Kim Hak-pin

7 spk

Kim Kong-jip

390 yang

Kim In-ha

1 spk 6 tu

Kim Chin-p’al

380 yang

Yi Hak-ypp*

1 spk

Kang Yi-ho

149 yang 6 chpn

Kim Kyu-haeng

2 spk 5 tu

Yi Ki-su

160 yang

No Ch’i-sam

4 tu

Yi Pypng-gi

70 yang

Kang Ch’i-sam*

3 spk 6 tu

Sin Pong-o

266 yang

Yi Chi-mun

187 yang

O Ch’an-su

40 yang

Chu Mun-svng

20 yang

Yi Tal-wpn

55 yang

Yi Hak-ypp*

130 yang 5 chpn

Mun Chi-ypng

51 yang

Song Si-vn

30 yang

Kim Chpng-muk

30 yang

Kim Kwan-yong

20 yang

Kang Ch’i-sam*

100 yang

Kim Hun-yp

55 yang

Ch’oe Chong-su

37 yang

Mun Chae-sun

25 yang

Subtotal

4,552 yang 9 chpn

29 spk 1 tu 5 svng**

5 p’un Total

5,660 yang 9 chpn 5 p’un

Source: KSTN 38:423–424. *Yi Hak-Yrp and Kang Ch’i-sam are included both in the list of Ilchinhoe supervisors and that of government ones. **The price of 1 spk was 38 yang. Thus the subtotal equaled 1,108 yang in cash.

of this total deficit, Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors were responsible for 4,552 yang 9 chon 5 p’un. While the local magistrate had selected seven government supervisors, the Ilchinhoe chose the head tenant supervisor (tosaum), Yi Chun-su, and twenty-one other supervisors, as shown in Table 4.47 The Ilchinhoe’s acquisition of tenant supervisor posts constituted a significant turning away from the movement’s original course of action. As the Ilchinhoe con47. Ibid., 38:423–424.

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fronted the task of distributing the fruits of its struggles, it had difficulty defining the often ambiguous “interests of the people” and resolving the complicated conflicts of interest among various social actors. Moreover, from 1906 on, the protectorate government successfully restricted the Ilchinhoe’s intervention in government taxation. In these circumstances, the Ilchinhoe’s practice increasingly tended to favor its own organizational needs and the narrow interests of its members. Some Ilchinhoe branches appropriated the collected rents to cover the expenses of their organizations. Others transferred tenant rights in the public lands directly to Ilchinhoe members. All these practices exacerbated the antagonism against the Ilchinhoe in local society. At the same time, newspapers and journals run by reformist elites highlighted the Ilchinhoe’s local disputes and denounced them as Ilchinhoe abuses (ilchin chakp’ye). They criticized the Ilchinhoe for allowing the “scum” of local society to enter its organization and plunder the people.48 In the worst cases, Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors even repeated the practices of the old tenant supervisors. In February 1907, the Ilchinhoe tenant supervisor in Yongch’on, An Yong-gwan, initiated a legal dispute over the reed fields located in the Sindo garrison. He argued that Kim Chae-hui in Yongch’on and O Sang-un in Ch’olsan had illegally seized the fields through their “false” claim that they had bought the rights to fields attached to the military garrison (chin) of Sindo. An denied that the fields had been affiliated with the garrison. Instead, he argued, an official from the Foreign Ministry had arrived in 1906 and uncovered Kim and O’s misappropriation of the lands. The official afterward appointed An to the post of tenant supervisor at the rate of 700 yang a year. An submitted the money to the central government and then sold the reeds to Chinese merchants. However, Kim and O brought a legal case against him, convinced the local government to jail him, and attempted to take back the reeds he had sold to the merchants. At the time, the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) in P’yongan Province reinvestigated the tenancy of the fields and confirmed An’s position. On the basis of this approval, An demanded that Kim and O pay 3,835 yang for the “stolen reeds” and his other financial losses.49 O Sang-un, a resident of Ch’olsan, countered An’s argument. The local government in Yongch’on had tried to build a dike in the Namp’an plain but could not finish the construction. O bought the fields at a reduced price and took possession of the documents for the sale of the fields, on behalf of which forty-eight local notables—including the chwasu, a leader of local associations, local literati (yuhyang), and officers and functionaries—had signed from the seller’s side. The

48. Kim Chong-jun, “Ilchinhoe chihoe ui hwaltong kwa hyanch’on sahoe ui tonghyang,” pp. 35–51. 49. KSTN, 37:64–65.

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local magistrate also stamped an official seal on the documents. In 1905, a commissioner from the Foreign Ministry (oebu wiwon) arrived in the area. Abusing his power, he incorporated the fields into the public lands after consulting with An. The commissioner then rented the land to Ilchinhoe members and appropriated the reeds grown in the fields. O was so angry that he petitioned the government, who ordered the return of the reeds to O and banned the transfer to the Ilchinhoe of tenant rights to the field. In response to this order, An plotted with the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan), Cho Chong-yun, and forced the Royal Treasury to order the local government in Ch’olsan to arrest O. Since O could not trust that Cho would correct the situation without prejudice against him, he traveled to the capital and presented his petition in person to the Royal Treasury. Because O was able to prove his ownership of the fields by producing the government documents that the forty-eight local notables had signed and the local magistrate had stamped, An failed in his second attempt to usurp Kim and O’s ownership of the land.50 An’s behavior in this dispute, using his connections with officials of the central government for his own profit, followed the practices of the old tenant supervisors. This case also points to the changed political situation in 1907. The Ilchinhoe’s power in local society had grown sufficiently for its members to seek the cooperation of commissioners such as Cho Chong-yun, who had actively opposed the Ilchinhoe at the peak of its tax resistance movement. An’s cooperation with Cho is significant because it was consistent with the general situation in some other areas. Some commissioners for rent collection (sujogwan) preferred cooperation to confrontation with the Ilchinhoe after mid-1906. This cooperation is discussed further in Chapter 7. Legal suits against Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors were not infrequent in the province. In May and June 1906, Paek Si-hwa, Han Tu-byong, Ch’oe Nam-gyu, Yi Song-bong, and Yi Son-p’yong in Kaech’on also petitioned against the Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors Ch’a Chi-bom and Cho Yong-song. The petitioners argued that the supervisors had been “crooks” before obtaining the post of tenant supervisors (saum) for the postal station lands in the fall of 1905. They imposed excessive rents on the tenants and seized approximately 70 sok of grain and four hundred bundles of pine-tree branches for firewood, as well as eighty pots of pickled radish (kimch’i). The tenants were so furious that they complained to the Ilchinhoe headquarters (ch’onghoe) about these exploitative practices. The central Ilchinhoe ousted Ch’a and Cho from the organization and sent another member, Kim Yong-hak, to investigate the case. However, Kim also attempted to deprive the tenants of their lands and did not return the official documents 50. Ibid., 37:92–93.

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that the tenants had provided for his investigation. The tenants were so anxious that they asked the Royal Treasury to arrest Kim and force him to return the illegally appropriated lands to their original cultivators.51 The tenants of the postal station lands in Kusong Prefecture protested in October 1906 against the transfer of their tenant rights to Ilchinhoe members. Because the prefecture was located in a mountainous area and its soil was not rich, the tenants did not have surplus grain to sell, even in good harvest years. This situation was worse on the public lands. Despite this, the dispatched tenant supervisors, without considering the quality of the fields, included barren fields, for example, in the category of taxable land simply on the basis of the old documents. The result for the tenants was excessive additional rent. The tenants were also required to pay travel expenses and other miscellaneous costs for the supervisors, such as the cost of wine, food, and paper. The supervisors made the situation worse when they evicted the old tenants and transferred the lands to Ilchinhoe members in the spring of 1905 and again in the spring of 1906.52 The Ilchinhoe not only transferred tenant rights to Ilchinhoe members but also used profits from land to expand the group’s economic activities and cover its finances. It established agricultural companies (nongop hoesa), for example, and obtained government authorization to take over lands or reed fields.53 Chong Mun-ha, a tenant supervisor of the postal station lands in P’yongyang, brought a legal case in November 1907 against Ilchinhoe members Kim I-hyon and Chon Pyong-gwan, claiming they had bribed the assistant (chongin) of the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) and had misappropriated the rent from the postal station lands to provide for Ilchinhoe expenses.54 In short, the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance in some districts was so successful that, in the end, its members replaced the majority of the old tenant supervisors. Once the Ilchinhoe rose to a “semi-official” status, its members confronted the task of articulating what the “representatives of the people” were supposed to be and how their leadership was different from that of the old local elites. Some Ilchinhoe members did indeed appear to recognize the need for a new kind of responsible

51. Ibid., 37:2, 6. 52. Ibid., 37:35. 53. Ibid., 37:114–115. The head (ch’ongdae) of the Ilchinhoe, Sin T’aehwan, petitioned in November 1907 on behalf of an agricultural company (nong’ophoesa) under the control of the Ilchinhoe. The clerk of the company, Won Se-gi, had requested that the Kyongniwon authorize the company in the fall of 1905. The Kyongniwon sent its direction to its commissioner for tax collection (sujogwan), Cho Chong-yun, and granted the authorization to the company. It paid taxes for three years. All of a sudden, according to the petition, the magistrate of the district prefecture sent police officers and local clerks and collected the harvests from the yellow grass field (hwangch’op’yong) under the control of the company. The Ilchinhoe requested that the Kyongniwon investigate the case and return the harvests. 54. Ibid., 37:119.

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leadership, and they attempted to affiliate public lands with local schools rather than privately embezzling the rent collected from those lands. However, the Ilchinhoe were not able to establish a legitimate protocol for mediating conflicts of interest among local actors and limiting the abuses of Ilchinhoe officials. More often than not, its public assemblies functioned as a forum for political speeches and lectures rather than as a space for democratic discussions and decision making about ongoing issues. Given the absence of such a protocol, the Ilchinhoe were unable to prevent some members from replicating the dubious practices of the old local elites. When the Ilchinhoe’s activism was reduced to its members’ pursuit of government positions and privileges, its credentials as a populist advocate were seriously undermined. Simultaneously, local elites disparaged the Ilchinhoe’s struggles as creating trouble (chakp’ye) for unjustifiable purposes, rather than being enacted to defend the interests of the people.

Political Divisions in Local Society: The Case of Yongch’˘on Prefecture The Ilchinhoe’s local subversion had significant implications for broader political divisions within the Korean reformist movements of the period. The long legal disputes between Ilchinhoe tenants and the old local elites in Yongch’on Prefecture perhaps deserve special attention in this respect. The two sides furiously confronted each other, exchanged numerous accusations, and mobilized considerable force both inside and outside of local society. The economic confrontations between the tenants and the local elites expanded into a political division as both sides drew the major political forces outside of local society into their disputes. While the tenants in Yongch’on depended on the Ilchinhoe in their struggles, the local elites countered by supporting the foundation of an elite reformist organization. This signified the existence of a deep social cleavage between the Ilchinhoe’s populist movement and the “Patriotic Enlightenment Movement,” which Korean reformist elites led during the protectorate period. The origin of the disputes in Yongch’on can be traced back to the investigation of unregistered taxable lands during the Kabo Reform. Local elites in Yongch’on—namely, Chang Yon-gyu, Mun Sok-ho, Paek Pyong-hu, Kim Chong-sok, and Yi Tu-hyong—had reclaimed colony lands in 1895. These lands were originally affiliated with government bureaus (ch’ong) and transferred to the Royal Treasury during the Kabo (Ulmi) Reform. Chang and others argued that the fields had been mud banks in the coastal areas and were so sterile as to be harvestable only once every ten years. As the lands had rarely been farmed due to salt, high waves, or droughts and were relatively unprofitable, the Royal

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Treasury allowed Chang and others, the stewards of the fields at the time, to cultivate the lands in perpetuity. The Royal Treasury issued a document of authorization to that effect and recorded the fields and their tenants in the list of the newly investigated taxable lands (sungch’ong ch’aek). When the Royal Treasury imposed rent on the fields in 1895 and 1896, Chang and others paid the rent even though they had no harvest. They subsequently constructed dikes in the fields with their own resources and eventually managed to produce a harvest, the first in ten years. Yi Tong-hwi, the head of the Ilchinhoe branch, provoked a tenant dispute over the fields in the fall of 1905. Yi persuaded Son Ki-son and other tenants to claim that Chang and the others had robbed the original tenants of the fields during the Kabo survey of unregistered taxable lands (sungch’ong). Yi and others presented their petition to the local government and the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) dispatched from the Kyongniwon. Chang and his associates countered that the local government had rejected the petition of the Ilchinhoe and, in a separate letter, accused Yi Tong-hwi of having secretly embezzled 30 yang per row of the fields. Chang furthermore insisted that the local government had compelled Son Ki-son to confess his crimes in a public trial. Yi Tong-hwi and other tenants dismissed Chang’s arguments and obtained the recognition of the Royal Treasury for their private ownership of the fields in dispute. Refusing to accept the situation, Chang and the others petitioned the Royal Treasury again in June 1906. They sent various documents supporting their claims, including the documents of government authorization, the list of tenants, the verdict of the local government, and the letter of the Ilchinhoe head in the prefecture with respect to Yi’s embezzlement.55 Son Ki-son and other tenants also prepared another petition the following month, in July 1906. They argued that the lands in dispute, the fields along the people’s dikes (mindong) in Yongch’on Prefecture, had been constructed one hundred years earlier, according to the local government’s instructions. Since the local people had together constructed the dikes, Son and the others insisted, these were called the minsamdong (three dikes of the people). The local government had affiliated the dikes and fields with several warehouses (ko) and bureaus (ch’ong) of the government in order to supply the financial demands of the town (ubyong). After the fields were transferred from the local government to the Royal Treasury during the Ulmi Reform, the tenants continued paying their rent. Son and the others charged that Mun Hak-si, Paek Hak-chung, Chang Yon-gyu, Kim Chong-sok, Yi Tu-hyong, and Kim Hui-guk had been in office (imsok) at the time and had stolen 68 kyol of the disputed fields. Without providing 55. Ibid., 37:7–8.

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any labor for the construction of the dikes, they had seized half of the grain that the tenants had farmed and harvested. Furthermore, they had privately sold the land that had belonged to the government. The tenants argued in their petition that they possessed the government documents supporting their rights (munkwon) to the fields. In response to this petition by the tenants, the Royal Treasury ordered the arrest of Mun Hak-si and others and forced them to return the money collected for the fields that they had illegally sold, which was 5,150 yang, according to the tenants. The Royal Treasury ordered the return of tenant rights to the old tenants associated with the Ilchinhoe. Mun and the others did not obey this decision and hired an agent, Paek Pyong-nim, to continue their legal suits against the old tenants. The old tenants, anxious about the lobbying efforts of this agent, again sent a petition requesting that the Royal Treasury refuse Mun’s “fraud” and recognize their rights to the fields. Fifty-four tenants signed the petition.56 Chang Yon-gyu and the five tenants on Mun Hak-si’s side made a new charge against the Ilchinhoe tenants in September 1906, arguing that the fields had been affiliated with the Ministry of Finance instead of the Royal Treasury during the Ulmi Reform.57 They argued that they had reconstructed the dikes with their own resources. They possessed the authorization documents and the list of new tenants of the lands that they had exchanged with the government. Mun Hak-si and others also criticized the influence of the Ilchinhoe forces in the region’s land disputes in another petition written in October 1906. Mun charged that Yi Tonghwi had committed his “evil” acts in consultation with An Yong-gwan, the Ilchinhoe tenant supervisor in Yongch’on. Mun claimed that the cooperation between An and Yi, backed by their monetary connection, was responsible for the disputes over public lands in the Yongch’on area. Infuriated by the Ilchinhoe’s actions against him, he concluded the petition with a demand that the government punish Yi and An on the basis of the law and “stop these crooks from contaminating the government offices.”58 The exchange of accusations between the Ilchinhoe and the old local elites in Yongch’on grew increasingly harsh. In October 1906, tenants associated with the Ilchinhoe prepared a petition against the local elites, stating: They are wicked officials of the local association [kanhyang] who conspired with the local magistrate to arrest Yi Tong-hwi and others who have yet to be released and are left in a fatal situation. Mun and Paek

56. Ibid., 37:16–17, 20–22. 57. It seems that this claim was related to the protectorate policy that transferred taxation rights to the Ministry of Finance. 58. KSTN, 37:32–33.

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tried to rob the old tenants of their annual harvest. An Si-ik and Yi Tae-gyu, to whom Mun and others had sold the lands, aggravated the situation. By this time, the Royal Treasury was leaning toward siding with Mun’s group. It replied that the intentions of Yi Tong-hwi’s group were criminal in nature, for Mun Hak-si and his group had never missed paying their rent in ten years. The Royal Treasury finally concluded that it would not allow “such criminal behavior.”59 The disputes over the lands took a new twist in 1907. The Ilchinhoe and local elites fought over the rent from the public lands and attempted to attach the rent to the respective local schools under their control. The heads of the local associations in Yongch’on, including Mun Hak-si, cosigned a petition to build a school in January 1907. The heads of local associations wished to attach to the school the postal station lands and fields under dispute with the Ilchinhoe tenants. In their petition, the local elites pointedly mentioned the Ilchinhoe’s “arrogant” disturbances. “Recently,” they wrote, “some criminals plotted to obtain the position of tenant supervisors and satisfy their greed.”60 The local elites requested that they be allowed to use the rent surplus from the land for their own school. This request was identical to the Ilchinhoe’s requests with respect to the public lands and confirmed that the Ilchinhoe and tenants had indeed reduced the rent rates and eliminated additional rents. Such incidents, in which the Ilchinhoe and the local elites competed to affiliate public lands with the local schools under their respective control, were not confined to Yongch’on. From the middle of 1906 on, the Ilchinhoe attempted in various places to divert the rent from public lands into subsidies for their schools; local elites soon followed suit, making similar requests to the government in the context of the burgeoning Patriotic Enlightenment Movement and its emphasis on constructing modern schools. Mun Hak-si, the official of the local elite association in Yongch’on and tenant supervisor on the public lands, had also participated in the movement and contributed to the founding of the Sou Hakhoe, organized in 1906 by the elites of P’yongan and Hwanghae provinces.61

59. This final verdict did not put an end to the petitions of the old tenants associated with the Ilchinhoe. Pak Yong-hwa and forty-eight tenants sent their petition again in November 1906, dismissing the historic grounds on which Mun and his group had claimed their rights over the land. They argued that the central government had never understood the circumstances in their area, which was far from the capital (hat’o). Since the dikes were 20 miles away from the town where Mun and the others lived, they could not have commuted to the location each day to build the dikes and cultivate the fields with their own hands. Ibid., 37:37, 42. 60. Ibid., 37:63–64. 61. Sou (Seoul: Asea Munhwasa, 1976; orig. printed December 1906), p. 52.

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In summary, local elites such as Mun and Chang obtained rights over the fields during the Kabo survey of unregistered taxable lands. Their status as officials of the local association and their access to state power allowed them to obtain such privileges. They argued that they had attained rights over the land in exchange for their material investment in hitherto barren public lands. They charged a 50 percent rent to tenants of these fields, which was far above the original rent fixed by the Kabo regulations. The tenants of the fields associated with the Ilchinhoe insisted that the lands in dispute were not originally under ownership of the government but under that of their ancestors, who had constructed dikes in the fields and passed rights over the land to the tenants. The dispute involved a large number of tenants; one tenant petition mentioned the grievances of one thousand tenants, and several dozen tenants signed the petitions against the local elites. One controversy in the dispute concerned whether the tenants had fulfilled their obligations to pay rents to the government. As the Ilchinhoe had previously done, the tenants referred to the Kabo (Ulmi) regulations, which had fixed a relatively low rent, and claimed that they had fulfilled their payment of the original rents according to those regulations. The Royal Treasury at first recognized the landownership of the tenants associated with the Ilchinhoe, but in the end it supported the position of the local elites. The confrontation between the local elites and the Ilchinhoe tenants reflected an ongoing political division in local society. Whereas the Ilchinhoe supported their member tenants, local elites sought new political support from the elite reformers who were leading the Patriotic Enlightenment Movement. This political division was clear in the competition to attach surplus rents from the public lands to the local schools under each side’s respective control. The position of local elites reflected the transformation and ideological disposition of the old Choson regime in the late nineteenth century. Although they had come to accept a need for “enlightenment,” they opposed the Ilchinhoe’s politics of the underprivileged. As one wealthy rent collector put it, the Ilchinhoe’s promotion was “predatory” rather than “enlightening.” This comment captures the subversive potential of the Ilchinhoe’s politics for the traditional local elites and the limits of those elites’ vision of “enlightenment.” In the Yongch’on case, local elites eventually turned to the elite reformist movements that promoted nationalism rather than populism. In many respects, the Yongch’on case presaged the class struggles and ideological divisions that would sweep the Korean Peninsula and its northern regions in the course of the twentieth century.62 62. In the period of the Ilchinhoe’s populism, although the group claimed to represent the underprivileged, its ideological position on the issue of private property was ambiguous. Although it

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Ch’ungch’ng Province The records from Ch’ungch’ong Province show that ownership relations over the public lands there were simpler than those in the northern regions. It appears that the Royal Treasury consolidated unitary state ownership of the public lands in this province. The tenant supervisors were not equated with private owners of the public lands under their charge. They were rather easily changed and evicted from the lands, according to the annual decisions of the Royal Treasury. Except for a few cases, the tenant supervisors in the region did not protest their expulsion on the grounds that their family members had possessed the positions for generations or that they had established property rights over the lands due to their private investments. The majority insisted that they had been appointed by the Royal Treasury and had performed their duties with no troubles. Thus, the narratives of the petitions are rather monotonous to read compared with those in the northern files. This homogeneity reflects the character of the Ch’ungch’ong sources as well. They are mostly petitions and files to the Royal Treasury, without records of counteraccusations or the investigation reports of the local governments. It is also important to note that disputes over tenant rights in the public lands were widespread in Ch’ungch’ong Province during this era. One collective petition of thirty-one tenants from Kongju, in March 1906, describes this situation well. These petitioners had been bound to the Iin postal station and had cultivated the station lands for several generations. During the Kabo Reform, the government closed the station and merged its lands into the taxation base (sungch’ong) of the Royal Treasury. The petitioners lost their occupation but expected to keep their living resources if they could stay in the same village and till the same lands. After the closure of the station, however, many tax agents or tenant supervisors who had obtained these positions by relying on outside forces came down to the area and toyed with the tenant rights in the public lands. The petitioners complained that the old tenants could not rent any piece of the land because the new supervisors had given the lands to people from other towns and areas.63 The Ilchinhoe land disputes in Ch’ungch’ong should be understood within this broader context of the land shortage and the frequent tenant evictions that occurred on the state-owned lands during the period.

demanded that government officials respect people’s property, it often infringed on the rights of intermediary rent collectors acquired by private material investments, as shown in this chapter. The leaders of Korean social movements in the colonial period showed clearer, albeit divided, ideological orientations between nationalism and socialism. Socialist groups tended to increase their influence on tenant disputes (sojak chaengui) during the period. 63. KSTN, 10:299.

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Although the membership of the Ilchinhoe branches was smaller in Ch’ungch’ong Province than in P’yongan, the Ch’ungch’ong branches more aggressively intervened in the administration of the public lands from the beginning. In the Ilchinhoe’s local strife in Ch’ungch’ong, the reduction of rents or taxes was an underlying issue, but the control of the public lands and their tenant rights was primary. It appears that the Ilchinhoe Ch’ungch’ong branches rather independently controlled this move, since their local opponents often appealed to the Ilchinhoe headquarters in the capital and received orders that reversed the local branch decisions. Almost all the petitioners reported that, from the end of 1904 through the spring of 1905, the local Ilchinhoe branches had collectively spread the word that

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they had obtained jurisdiction over the public lands and had received this authorization from the commissioner of the Royal Treasury. This authorization of the commissioner may not have been totally fabricated. The Ilchinhoe local branches members were firm and confident in making such arguments, and the commissioner did later compromise with the Ilchinhoe in the northern region. The Ch’ungch’ong petitioners asked whether the Royal Treasury had in fact endorsed the Ilchinhoe’s acts. The Royal Treasury mostly disapproved of the interventions of the Ilchinhoe branches and ordered that the Ilchinhoe’s transfer of tenant rights be reversed.

Disputes with Old Tenant Supervisors The first record of the Ilchinhoe’s disputes in Ch’ungch’ong appeared in November 1904, when the commissioner in Northern Ch’ungch’ong Province, Chang Cheyong, reported to the Minister of the Royal Treasury on a tenant supervisor called Kim. Kim, the supervisor for the colony lands (tunt’o) in Ch’ongju area, had disrupted tax collection in association with the Ilchinhoe. When Chang fired him, Kim disobeyed the commissioner’s decision and made a big scene, protesting in the local government hall. Commissioner Chang also accused the head secretary (susogi) of the Hwanggan local government of being connected with the Ilchinhoe. Chang suspected that this secretary had gathered the local clerks, about thirty in number, and tried to move the jurisdiction over the public lands (tunt’o) to the internal bureau (ich’ong) of the local government in order to manipulate the administration of the public lands at his will. The secretary, in company with a man called Kim Hak-yong, had interrupted the tax collection in the public lands and humiliated the tax agents dispatched from the government. The commissioner asked that the Royal Treasury approve the arrest of these three people and their punishment.64 As found in a few other northern cases, this commissioner’s report indicates that the local officials had some conflicts with the Royal Treasury and sometimes allied with the Ilchinhoe against the tax officers from the capital. It is unclear, however, whether this local arrangement allowed the Ilchinhoe branches to publicly advertise their possession of the public lands. Many petitions in spring 1905 reported that the Ilchinhoe branches in Ch’ungch’ong had started expelling the old tenant supervisors and transferring the tenant rights to Ilchinhoe members. The old tenant supervisor Yi Pom-il reported such a case in February 1905. Yi was the former official ( jusa) who supervised the Sinp’ung postal station lands in Yonp’ung, Northern Ch’ungch’ong. He annually collected the rent for the lands, 100 sok in grain, compiled the list of the rent submitted, and sent it to the 64. Ibid., 10:150–151.

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commissioner. When he finished the job for 1904 and was waiting to submit the grain to the treasury, an Ilchinhoe branch member came to Yi to say that he would take over Yi’s job and tried to seize the public grain that Yi had stored for submission. Yi asked that the Royal Treasury prevent the current tenants from being evicted from the land during the agricultural season.65 The old tenant supervisors in Ch’ungch’ong mostly complained that the new Ilchinhoe supervisors evicted the old tenants from the lands and distributed those lands to Ilchinhoe members. One petition from Chinch’on, Northern Ch’ungch’ong, wrote that the old tenants of the postal station lands under dispute numbered about three hundred people. They were from the neighboring four or five villages (tong) and had tilled the lands for years. In the spring of 1905, an Ilchinhoe member called Sin became the new supervisor, confiscated the lands, and transferred them to Ilchinhoe members. The petition identified Sin as a stranger and reported that he hid the instructions from the government and illegally deprived the people of their means of living, the land. The petitioner also asked the Royal Treasury to punish Sin and appoint a new supervisor from among the villagers.66 The old tenants of the same public lands sent another petition in May 1905 stating that Sin had disobeyed the order of the Royal Treasury to cancel his expulsion of the old tenants. The petitioners called Sin a “man outside of our civilization” (hwa oe chi min) who was overlooking the orders of the local magistrate and the commissioner, collecting for his own party, and threatening the people. The petitioners labeled Sin “the evil enemy of the state and the dev il to the people.”67 Another old tenant supervisor called Yi, from Ch’ungju, Northern Ch’ungch’ong, reported a similar case in March 1905. He had supervised and tilled the public lands in Chinmok for eight to nine years. In 1904, an Ilchinhoe member called Yi Won-sok had sent three members to the old supervisor’s house and bullied him, saying that their party had taken charge of the lands. The old supervisor sent his files for protest to the Ilchinhoe office in the capital, the local government, the provincial government, and the royal commissioner. All the agencies, including the Ilchinhoe headquarters, ordered that the case should be in accord with the old practice. The Ilchinhoe local branch refused to follow these orders and expelled the old supervisor from the position.68 Another petitioner, Pak, from Umsong, Northern Ch’ungch’ong, lost his tenant supervisor position for the Muguk postal station lands. The local administrative boundary was redrawn in 1905, and the Muguk station lands were merged 65. 66. 67. 68.

Ibid., 10:173–174. Ibid., 10:212. Ibid., 10:219–220. Ibid., 10:222.

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with the Umsong district. Pak witnessed Ilchinhoe members posting an advertisement [on public lands] in the area and interrupting the collection of rents. According to Pak, the Ilchinhoe eventually obtained the authorization of the government for collecting the rents.69 This newly drawn administrative boundary caused some confusion in the rent collection. The colony lands Yonghodun, in Umsong, were located on the district boundary with Ch’ungju. The new district adjustment merged the lands with Umsong. Pak, the tenant supervisor, had received the commissioner’s authorization for rent collection in 1905. But the tenants of the land under Pak’s charge were stirred by false rumors, saying that either the local government or the Ilchinhoe would control the lands. Pak wrote that he could not finish his job due to these rumors and the tenants being unsettled.70 Who, then, were these old tenant supervisors in the disputes with the Ilchinhoe? As mentioned before, the supervisors had obtained their positions because of their various relations to the government agencies or other local forces. They referred to the sufferings of the tenants under their supervision, but “tenants” did not always mean individual tenants with small landholdings. The supervisors had more complicated relations with the social establishment both inside and outside the local areas. For example, one petitioner, called Yun, was the agent (kansain) of Minister Sim’s household. He petitioned the Royal Treasury concerning Sim’s lands in Ch’ungch’ong on behalf of Sim, who resided in the capital. The disputed land was a part of the Sim family’s manor (changt’o), a rice paddy 2 sok 7 turak in size, located in Puyo, Southern Ch’ungch’ong. According to the records, Sim had disputes over the ownership of this land with the Royal Treasury and made his case. Thus, in the fall of 1904, Sim had collected rents from the land and replaced its old cultivators with his new tenants accordingly. But in spring 1905, the Ilchinhoe office in the area declared its control of the public lands and merged Sim’s rice paddies into the public lands. The Ilchinhoe office also sent its letter about this merger to the local government. They caused Sim’s tenant supervisor, called Cho, to be arrested and imprisoned and forced him to pay the rents for the fall of 1904. Sim’s agent, Yun, protested this merger to Ilchinhoe headquarters and obtained its order that the branch office stop interfering with Sim’s land. Yun also received the authorization document (wanmun) of the local government confirming Sim’s claim. Yun asked the royal commissioner to reverse the Ilchinhoe’s practice.71

69. Ibid., 10:242–243. 70. Ibid., 10:251–252, 257. 71. Ibid., 10:184.

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In some cases, the old tenant supervisors attached the list of tenants or mentioned the numbers of tenants affected by the Ilchinhoe’s eviction. Sometimes the tenants numbered several dozen people. But such large numbers may or may not have represented individual small farmers. Some of them tilled the land on behalf of richer or yangban households. As mentioned before, after the Royal Treasury directly sent tax officers to local areas, frequent changes of tenant supervisors and evictions of tenants from lands were widespread. Many legal suits from areas of Ch’ungch’ong Province treated such eviction cases without the Ilchinhoe’s intervention. One such petition included a list of the old tenants evicted from the lands with the arrival of a new supervisor. On the list, more than half of the thirty-one tenants were slaves. Nine were slaves of the Oh family (O no), and the other nine were the slaves of several other families (Cho no, Yun no, Kim no, Hong no, etc.).72 This does not eliminate the possibility that these slaves constituted independent economic households. But it is also hard to deny the possibility that they farmed the land for the slave owners. A tenant supervisor called Pak, from Chinjam, Southern Ch’ungch’ong, testified that some yangban families or powerful figures in local areas had obtained the position of tenant supervisor and listed their family members or their servants as the tenants of the lands under their supervision. Pak argued that one family in this category had falsely accused him of being connected to the Ilchinhoe. The supervisor before Pak, who was called Yi, had not submitted the rent to the treasury for 1903 (12 sok in grain) and had kept the 1904 rent for himself. In 1904, he had also exempted 20 some turak of the fields from taxation for good, organized tenant protests, and submitted no rents. Pak sent petitions to the local government five times against Yi, and Pak reported this to the Royal Treasury. The old supervisor, Yi, responded by accusing Pak of being connected with the Ilchinhoe and expelling the old tenants from the land. Pak denied his relation to the Ilchinhoe. He acknowledged that the Ilchinhoe members tried to seize the postal station lands and that the Ilchinhoe members told the tenants not to submit any rents to the treasury commissioner without the Ilchinhoe’s instruction. But Pak argued that the Ilchinhoe could not achieve this, given the Royal Treasury’s opposition. On the contrary, Pak argued, it was the old tenant supervisor Yi who had treated the public lands as his private property and distributed them only among the three people in Yi’s family, the father and the sons, without renting a single piece of land to others. According to Pak, 72. Ibid., 10:213.

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Yi filled the list of tenants with his relatives and his servants living in the servant compound of his house, presenting them as though they were independent tenants of the land under his charge. Pak asked the royal commissioner to arrest Yi and collect the unpaid rent.73 Pak’s petition revealed that the tenant supervisors often exempted the public lands from the government tax base or rented the fields to those close to them. The fees for tenant supervisors were also not small. This is revealed in a collective petition in August 1905 by the tenants of the postal station lands from Chinch’on, Northern Ch’ungch’ong Province. In this case, the supervisory fee was 15 sok in grain, more than 20 percent of the total rents due to the Royal Treasury from those lands. In 1904, the Royal Treasury appointed Cho Kyong-dok as the supervisor of the petitioners. The tenants described how Cho had worked hard and with his private money investigated the lands hidden or tax-exempted by the previous tenant supervisors and increased the tax base for the government. In order to reclaim the wasted lands, Cho transferred the good quality fields to the tenants who were cultivating the wasted lands. This effort added the new lands’ 7 sok 8 tu 2 sungnak to the taxation base of the Royal Treasury. The petitioners wrote that Cho had completed the submission of rents without any delays or the resentment of the tenants. Despite this contribution, Cho wanted to leave the position because the commissioner in 1905 eliminated the fees for the supervisor and “gave them to” the new tax agents and the Ilchinhoe. The petitioners wrote that Cho “contributed to the state and benefited the people” but that now those fees went to “useless” people, presumably new agents and Ilchinhoe. The petitioners demanded the return of Cho as supervisor, with a list of sixty-nine tenants signing the petition.74 In November 1905, these tenants sent another petition to the commissioner stating that they had obtained the tenant rights from Cho and tilled the lands without any troubles. They again emphasized that Cho had expanded the taxable lands and completed the submission of the rents well. The petitioners argued that in the 1894 survey, the commissioner of the Royal Treasury had investigated the postal station lands in their area but that afterward the practice in the area had become ambiguous and problematic. The taxable lands became smaller, being reduced to only several turak. Only the tenant supervisors fattened themselves by exempting the lands from taxation and concealing the rents from the treasury. Meanwhile, Cho had reinvestigated the status of the 73. Ibid., 10:215. 74. Ibid., 10:230–231.

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public lands with his own money and increased the rent total for the treasury to 65 sok 18 tu 5 sungnak. The petitioners called Cho the “best supervisor since the Kabo Reform” and asked the commissioner to reappoint Cho and give peace to the tenants.75 Since the petitioners mainly stressed Cho’s contribution to the tax increase for the state, it is difficult to understand their motives in supporting Cho. Cho added lands hidden by previous supervisors and received for his job more than 20 percent of the total rent (15 sok out of 65 sok). Rather than being expelled, Cho had resigned from the position because the commissioner had eliminated Cho’s fees and replaced him with new tax officers and Ilchinhoe members. The petition in August 1905 claimed that the commissioner “gave away” the fees to other tax officers and the Ilchinhoe, but the one in November 1905 does not mention this. There are a few possibilities of interpretation. The tenants were either closely related to Cho or worried about being evicted by the new supervisor. If they were to lose their tenant rights, they would not benefit from the elimination of the supervisory fees and the resulting reduction of the rents. Cho seemingly had benefited the tenants because he gave them good incentives to reclaim the barren lands and let them cultivate the rediscovered public lands that Cho’s predecessors had treated as their private property. This shows that in Ch’ungch’ong Province, tenant supervisors could more easily transfer tenant rights in the public lands, and tenant status was more unstable than in the northern region. Even if the fees for intermediary tax supervisors were eliminated and rents were thus reduced, this did not help the same tenants. The possession of tenant rights was more important than a general rent reduction. Thus, the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance in Ch’ungch’ong did not have the same effects found in the northern region. Cho’s tenants witnessed the commissioner in this area cooperate with the Ilchinhoe branches. A few other records support this as well. The tenant supervisor Yi from Okch’on wrote that he could not collect rents because of the Ilchinhoe members in the area. The members told Yi that the commissioner Chang Che-yong had said that in 1904 he would replace half of the tenant supervisors with Ilchinhoe members (panbun kansop), and in 1905 he would let the Ilchinhoe be in full control of the public lands. Yi reported that the Ilchinhoe members did not listen to him, bound and hit him, and stole the harvest records (ch’usugi) from him.76

75. Ibid., 10:.247. 76. Ibid., 10:248.

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The petitions of Cho’s tenants also indicate that the old tenant supervisors appropriated the public lands by keeping them in the category of waste lands on the basis of natural disasters or poor soil and earned money by privately taking rents from those lands. It appears that the Ilchinhoe branch in this area objected to such practices. An old tenant supervisor called Chong, from Hwanggan, Northern Ch’ungch’ong, faced such an allegation. He held the position of tenant supervisor between 1904 and 1905. Chong claimed that the provincial government had sent an agent to investigate waste fields in the public lands. The agent fraudulently exempted the first-rate rice paddy (7 turak), the middle rate (37 turak), and the lower rate (11 turak) from the tax base of the Royal Treasury and appropriated the rents from these lands. Chong admitted that as tenant supervisor he had received a portion of that money. In fall 1905, this fraud was exposed. The local government of Kumsan arrested Chong and ordered him to pay the unpaid rents because as tenant supervisor he ought to have reported the fraud. As punishment, Chong submitted the rents for the two years, 482 yang in cash. Chong petitioned the Royal Treasury when the local government of Hwanggan arrested him in 1906 and again forced him to pay the rents for 1904 and 1905. The Ilchinhoe members also reported this to their Ch’ungju branch and interrogated Chong about this case. Chong wrote that he had received the punishment although it was the agent from the provincial government who was guilty. Chong wrote that he had returned the exempted lands (55 turak) to the tax base. Chong also asked the commissioner to order the Hwanggan local government to deliver the money he had paid and never to punish him again.77 Regardless of the merits or problems of the old tenant supervisors, the tenants in Ch’ungch’ong were dependent on the supervisors, who could evict them from the lands under their charge. This circumstance, combined with the shortage of arable land, meant that the new Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors in Ch’ungch’ong inevitably disrupted the existing networks of tenant rights and supervisory positions established among the government power, the social establishment, and the peasants. When the Ilchinhoe Ch’ungch’ong branches focused on the redistribution of tenant rights, they could not obtain a broader sympathy among the local population even if they corrected some problems of the old tenant supervisors. The petitions of the tenants expressed their deep concern about their daily survival, which depended on being able to till the fields they rented. Some old tenant supervisors, such as Cho and Chong, were richer and more resourceful than the rest of the local population. But other supervisors cultivated modest-sized areas of land, and their households relied on those lands. All the local actors were 77. Ibid., 10:264.

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fiercely concerned with securing even small pieces of land and not losing these. The Ilchinhoe Ch’ungch’ong branches tried to address this anxiety about land shortage among their followers but naturally faced the hardening animosities of the old tenants and also of the social establishment, who feared losing their lands or their better positions in managing their lives and interests in local areas.

Disputes with Old Tenants From early 1906 to spring 1907, the tenants of the public lands in Ch’ungch’ong areas submitted many petitions against the Ilchinhoe. The main issue was the Ilchinhoe’s confiscation of the lands and their redistribution to Ilchinhoe members. The petitioners were individual tenants, small groups, or large numbers of tenants who claimed to represent several hundreds when including family members of the tenants. I found a total of seventy-eight Ilchinhoe-related petitions of the old tenants from Ch’ungch’ong in the Kaksa Tungnok: fifty-eight in 1909 and twenty in 1907. Among them, thirteen cases were collective petitions by more than fifteen tenants. Table 5 shows the location, the number of the petitioners, the size of the disputed lands, and other notable records for each case. The recorded disputes occurred in twenty-five areas of Northern and Southern Ch’ungch’ong provinces. Four or more cases each were presented from Umsong (6), Ch’ongju (10), Poun (7), Hwanggan (5), Yongdong (7), Kongju (5), and Hongju (5). The sizes of the disputed lands were varied. In thirteen cases, the land in dispute was sized from 1 to 5 turak per tenant; in twenty-three cases, it was from 5 to 10 turak; in seven cases, it was from 10 to 15 turak; and in seven cases, the land size per tenant was more than 15 turak. This distribution does not include the cases in which the land size per tenant was not identifiable. This does not always mean that these disputed fields were all the lands that the tenant petitioners tilled. Besides those lands, they could have cultivated their privately owned lands, rented the fields of other private landowners, or rented other pieces from other public lands uninvolved with Ilchinhoe-related disputes. But it is meaningful that the majority of the tenant fields were sized between 5 and 10 turak. The petitioners all argued that from the end of 1905 to early 1906, the Ilchinhoe had started confiscating fields from the old tenants. The tenant Yi Pog-u wrote that in early 1905 the Ilchinhoe members had said that they had taken over the general management of the postal station lands (t’onggan yokt’o) and confiscated Yi’s field, 1 songnak.78 In the same month, Pak from Ch’ongju filed suit against the Ilchinhoe with a similar story. Pak had been evicted from his dike land (cheondap) of 14 turak. An Ilchinhoe member called Kim Chong-su 78. Ibid., 10:167.

TABLE 5. Data from 71 petitions of old tenants disputing land redistribution by the Ilchinhoe, Ch’ungch’png Province, 1906–1907 DATE

LOCATION

NUMBER OF TENANTS

AREA OF LAND

OTHER DETAILS

Feb. 1906

Ch’pngan

1

1 spngnak

Ch’pngju

1

14 turak

Ilchinhoe chair

Ch’pnju

13

Not indicated

Previous troubles in

Kim Chrng-su rent submission before the Ilchinhoe Ch’pngju

5

3, 5, or 10 turak

Members of the

per tenant; total

household called

land area not

Min

indicated Ch’pngju

3

50 turak

Petitioners had contributed 700–800 yang to cultivate the land

Yrnp’ung

1

Rent 100 srk, land area not

The petitioner was former jusa.

indicated Mar. 1906

Potn

1

10 tu 5 stngnak

Povn

3

27 turak

Distributed to the tenants by 10, 9, and 8 turak

Potn

4

8 tu 5 svngnak

29 turak 5 sungnak in total

6 turak 10 turak 5 turak Ch’ungju

11

27 turak

Porypng

5

16 turak and 16 turak

Hongju

23

Sech’pn postal

Vmspng

50

Postal station

station lands lands in Vmspng

Several hundred people affected 100 households affected The great and small people (taeso inmin) from Vmspng

Mar. 1906

Ch’pngju

1

5 turak

Hoedpk

1

5 turak

Puyr

1

1 srk 7 turak

Agent of Minister Sim (continued)

TABLE 5.

(continued)

DATE

LOCATION

NUMBER OF TENANTS

AREA OF LAND

OTHER DETAILS

Apr. 1906

Povn

4

18 turak

About 30 people

Povn

1

12 turak

Hongsan

1

3 turak

Hongsan

1

10 turak

Tangjin

18

Not indicated

Several hundred

Kongju

2

7, 1, and 6 turak

Yangban (sain)

Ypnsan

5

3, 7, 6, 9, and 15

affected

people affected

turak Ch’pngju Ypngdong

10 turak 20

Postal station lands in Hoe-dong

Haemi

Several dozen

Not indicated, but several turak per

Several hundred people affected

tenant Povn

3

5, 5, and 3 turak

Kongju

8 or 9 turak per

Hongju

8 or 9 turak per

tenant tenant Yesan

Multiple

Not indicated

Several hundred household members

Ch’pnan

6

Not indicated

Kongju

1

Not indicated

Ypngdong

31

Not indicated;

Many people affected

Hoedong postal

Several hundred people affected

station lands Hwanggan

1

Several turak per tenant

Imch’pn

8

10, 9, 4, 3, 4, 4, 7,

Imch’pn

Multiple

2, 1 spk turak, and

Imch’pn

4

7, 8, 5, 8, and 6

Ilchinhoe members are rumpens. 43 turak in total

and 2 turak 12, 9 turak turak May 1906

Yesan

1

9 turak

Ch’pngju

3

13, 2.7, 4, 2.7, 4, 2.7, 4, 7, and 4 turak

Previous disputes before Ilchinhoe

TABLE 5. DATE

(continued) LOCATION

NUMBER OF TENANTS

AREA OF LAND

Ch’pngju

1

12 turak

Munvi

6

4, 4, 10, 2, 2, 2

OTHER DETAILS

turak (16 turak in total) Kongju

1

Old tenant

Hongsan

1

7 turak

Ch’pngju

1

12 turak

Ypngdong

2

10 turak (5 each)

Hongsan

1

15 tu 5 svngnak

Chinch’rn

5 or more

Not indicated

300 people

Hongju

1

5 turak

10 people affected

Hoedpk

1

7 turak

1 tu of white rice

supervisor

affected

was submitted to the Ilchinhoe chair. Hoedpk

19

Not indicated

50 Ilchinhoe members decided to distribute the land by 3 or 4 turak per tenant.

Ch’pngp’ung

1

7 turak and 35

June 1906

Ch’ungju

1

Not indicated

June 1906

Yesan

1

5 turak

turak Old tenant supervisor July 1906

Aug. 1906

Kongju

1

12 turak

Okch’rn

1

Several turak

Hongju

1

6 turak

Chinch’rn

67

T’aerang postal station lands

Jan. 1907

Vmspng

25

Mugvk postal

Yesan

1

9 turak

Hwanggan

107

Postal station lands

5 turak in dispute Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors

station lands Mar. 1907

in Hwanggan Hwanggan

Multiple tenants

Several thousand people affected The tenants of the same lands as above (continued)

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TABLE 5.

(continued)

DATE

LOCATION

NUMBER OF TENANTS

AREA OF LAND

OTHER DETAILS

Ypngdong

1

8 turak and 3 turak

Ypngdong

3 or more

Not indicated

2 or 3 turak per

Okch’pn

1

10 turak and 1

10 turak and 1

Vmspng

1

7 turak

Vmspng

1

4 tu 5 sungnak

Hwanggan

48

Postal station

tenant ilgypng

ilgypng 2 tu 5 sungnak transferred

Apr. 1907

lands in

Several thousand people affected

Hwanggan Ypngdong

3 or more

Vmspng

1

Not indicated

Povn

1

10 turak

Hwanggan

1

8 turak

4 turak transferred

Okch’pn

1

Not indicated

Ilchinhoe’s reliance

Piin

Multiple tenants

Not indicated

A dozen Ilchinhoe

The petitioner was a former jusa.

in 1906 on Japan members threatened the petitioners. Hongju

1

6 turak

Ch’pngju

1

6 turak

Vmspng

19

Mugtk postal station lands

Ilchinhoe chairs Pak In-su and Kim Ki-bae

May 1907

Ypngdong

4

Not indicated

Source: KSTN, 10: 166–453. Note: Of the 78 petitions, 58 were filed in 1906 and 20 were filed in 1907. The table does not include Ilchinhoe disputes unrelated to land transfer.

did this, telling Pak that the Ilchinhoe branch in Ch’ungch’ong Province was taking charge of the public lands from then on and having Ilchinhoe members cultivate the lands. Pak asked the royal commissioner if this was actually the case. Even if it was so, Pak wrote, it was unacceptable that the Ilchinhoe took the lands without having made any previous contribution to create or main-

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tain the lands and with no grounds to expel the people from the state’s lands at will.79 Other petitioners from Ch’ongju in the same month reported that “the Ilchinhoe-Ch’ondogyo” had confiscated lands and transferred them to others.80 Three tenants from Ch’ongju in February 1905 filed petitions against two Ilchinhoe members, Hong and Yi. In this case, the tenants claimed their property rights to the disputed fields because they had paid the additional funds, 700 to 800 yang in copper coin, when they cultivated those fields. They argued that because of this contribution, the commissioner of the Royal Treasury had issued an authorization document that the three tenants had the rights in perpetuity to till those 50 turak of rice paddies. The petitioners reported that Hong had had his hair cut one day and with the Ilchinhoe member Yi incited the disputes over the fields.81 Petitioners from Poun in March 1905 complained that the Ilchinhoe were trying to take 27 turak of their fields by “gathering crowds and threatening the tenants with multiple voices.” The petitioners insisted that the twenty people among their three households would die of starvation if they lost the land under dispute.82 Some petitioners identified the Ilchinhoe members in the disputes as “strangers” to their villages. The five tenants from Poryong argued in their March 1905 petition that they had been expelled from their lands by an Ilchinhoe member whose name and place of residence they did not know. Their district government had issued an order prohibiting the tenancy transfer but could not enforce it due to the Ilchinhoe’s force. The petitioners asked the Royal Treasury to reverse the case, saying that the “villains from other areas” violated the law and the custom.83 As mentioned before, some other petitioners observed that Ilchinhoe members had cited the approval of the royal commissioner in the area for their conduct. The twenty-three petitioners from Hongju, Southern Ch’ungch’ong, for example, protested in March 1905 that in their area there were few arable fields except for the postal station lands and that about one hundred households had relied on those lands for living. But several Ilchinhoe members, mentioning the approval of the royal treasury commissioner, altogether tried to transfer the lands to others. The petitioners argued that the Ilchinhoe could not conduct such an illegal practice when “the land is the state’s property and the tenants are all from the same race [tongp’o].”84

79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84.

Ibid., 10:169. Ibid., 10:169, 171. Ibid., 10:172. Ibid., 10:175. Ibid., 10:179–180. Ibid., 10:180.

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The majority of the petitions from April 1906 reported that the Royal Treasury or the local government had ordered that the Ilchinhoe’s practices be reversed. But the Ilchinhoe had disobeyed these rulings. One tenant petitioner wrote that the tax collection office in his area and his tenant supervisor had all supported his case, but the Ilchinhoe did not listen.85 When the five tenants from Yonsan, Southern Ch’ungch’ong, strongly resisted the Ilchinhoe’s transfer of the fields, the Ilchinhoe members told them that the government had decided that the public lands should be tilled by no one but the Ilchinhoe members and that the commissioner for the area would issue such an authorization to the members. When the tenant petitioners asked them to show any document of such an authorization, the members simply continued to seize the lands, saying that the documents would arrive soon.86 Facing the opposition of the government and the commissioner, the Ilchinhoe members suggested the “license from the Ilchinhoe local branches” as a reliable source to justify members’ takeover of the public lands. One tenant from Hongsan wrote in April 1906 that he had tilled 10 turak of public lands in 1902 and 1903. This indicates that he had earned his tenancy rather recently. But two of his neighbors had relied on the Ilchinhoe’s force and taken the 10 turak from the petitioner in March 1906. The neighbors said that they had received the authorization of the Ilchinhoe. The old tenant filed the case with the tax collection office (pongswaeso) in the region and received its order to follow the previous practice. But the neighbors did not listen.87 As the Ilchinhoe’s expulsion of the tenants increased in the spring of 1906, collective petitions of old tenants flooded the Royal Treasury. These collective petitions elevated the Ilchinhoe’s land disputes to challenges to the dynasty’s ideology and the Ilchinhoe’s own rhetoric. Fifty petitioners from Umsong wrote in March 1906 that the Ilchinhoe from their district branch had tried to take over public lands and transfer them to members under the pretense that the act had been authorized by the Royal Treasury. The tenants of Umsong appealed to the commissioner and received his response that “the purpose of the Ilchinhoe is the protection of the people’s life and property. How could they take the lands of others? The Ilchinhoe members should stay with their own tenant fields and the commoners should do their own, without causing each other trouble.” The Umsong petitioners expected that the Ilchinhoe members believed more in the

85. Ibid., 10:186. 86. Ibid., 10:190. 87. Ibid., 10:187–188.

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group’s own force and would not obey the instruction of the treasury. The petition was submitted in the name of the “great and small people” (taeso minin) in Umsong.88 The eighteen former tenants from Tangjin, Southern Ch’ungch’ong, in their April 1906 petition criticized the Ilchinhoe’s eviction of them on the basis that this act contradicted commonly held ideas about the king’s lands and subjects. They quoted the phrase from The Book of Songs (Sigyong; Chinese, Shi jing) that “all the land under the Heaven belongs to the king, and all the people in the world are the king’s subjects,” adding that “the Ilchinhoe members are the people of the king, and so we are.” The petitioners reproved the Ilchinhoe members for not acting in accord with their own four-point platform, having taken the lands by force instead.89 Twenty tenants from Yongdong, Northern Ch’ungch’ong, argued in April 1906 that the Ilchinhoe members “did not have any thought to protect the people and only wanted to satisfy their greed.” They had evicted the tenants from the land, and several hundred family members of the tenants were about to be forced to scatter. This petition recalled the slogan of the Tonghak Rebellion, saying that the Ilchinhoe’s purpose was known to be to “protect the state and comfort the people [poguk anmin],” yet its conduct of tenant eviction was not protective but cruel and merciless.90 Tenants from Haemi, Southern Ch’ungch’ong, called the Ilchinhoe’s eviction not “the protection of the people but the elimination of the law.”91 Another petition, from Yesan, wrote that the Ilchinhoe, using as an excuse the claim that the commissioner had authorized it, had expelled tenants from the lands during the agricultural season. The petitioners protested that this would make several hundred tenant household members lose their resources for living. The Royal Treasury had reversed the Ilchinhoe’s transfer. But the Ilchinhoe members had disobeyed this, following the Ilchinhoe’s own regulations instead. The petitioners asked the Royal Treasury to enforce its rules against the Ilchinhoe members, who were disrespectful of the government’s authority and of the people’s protection.92 In January 1907, former tenants of the Muguk postal station lands in Umsong also expressed their anger and frustration after an Ilchinhoe member called Pak In-su occupied the position of the new tenant supervisor. The tenants asked the Royal Treasury to reappoint the old tenant supervisor, who had worked since 88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

Ibid., 10:180–181. Ibid., 10:188. Ibid., 10:192, 199–200. Ibid., 10:192–193. Ibid., 10:194.

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1895 without collecting additional fees or changing tenants. According to the petitioners, Pak In-su collected the land tax (kyolse) in addition to the annual rents. They suspected that Pak, with ten other Ilchinhoe members, had tried to embezzle the money (i.e., the land tax) and had never reported the ranks of the fields and rice paddies being cultivated by the Ilchinhoe members. The petitioners called the Ilchinhoe members “people outside the laws” (pop oe chi min). Twenty-five people, including the village head in the area, signed the petition.93 Did the Ilchinhoe Ch’ungch’ong branches entirely abandon their public rhetoric to protect the people’s life and property and satiate the greed of their members? Counterpetitions from Ilchinhoe members are not found in the Ch’ungch’ong records. Nevertheless, some petitions, especially after May 1906, do expose evidence that the Ilchinhoe local branches set a few principles in regulating this redistribution of tenant fields. They attempted to transfer the lands from the tillers of larger lands to Ilchinhoe members, issued “Ilchinhoe licenses” to regulate the redistribution process, and in a few cases tried to save poor old tenants from eviction or to leave a small amount of land to them when they were evicted. For example, nineteen petitioners from Hoedok, So myon, in Southern Ch’ungch’ong Province, filed against the Ilchinhoe’s Hoedok branch in May 1906. The petitioners wrote in literary Chinese instead of the mixed scripts, and argued that fiftyodd Ilchinhoe members had gathered together and decided to “take 3 or 4 turak from the old tenants who tilled more than 1 songnak and issue the authorization documents of tenant rights [tosu chakin p’yo] [to those who will cultivate taken fields]” (emphasis added). According to the petition, the Ilchinhoe members of the area then together caused the troubles and stole the lands, saying, “Our believers [toin] do not know the local government [kunbu] or the higher government [sangbu]. We do not fear [being accused by] the legal suits [chongso] to the government.” The petitioners ranted, asking how such acts could be called “enlightened” or legal. The petitioners asked the Royal Treasury to reverse this conduct and to warn the main office of Ch’ondogyo that such acts should not occur again. The royal commissioner sent an instruction in support of this petition.94 The Ilchinhoe local branches distributed to new tenants the “Ilchinhoe’s license” to prove their tenant rights. In Ch’ongju, one petitioner named Min filed a case against a man called Yi. Yi had taken Min’s land on the pretense of the “Ilchinhoe’s approval.” Min had protested and received orders from the Royal Treasury that the land should be returned to him. In this case, the Ilchinhoe investigated Min’s claim and instructed Yi to return the land. The petitioner Min 93. Ibid., 10:285. 94. Ibid., 10:218.

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described Yi as being very rich (hobu) and also possessing the power of noble status (kwise). According to Min, Yi was the chair of an organization called the East Asian Education Association (Tonga Kyoyukhoe). Min resented the fact that, despite his wealth and power, Yi had used the excuse of the “license of the Ilchinhoe to collect rents” (soju sop’yo or Ilchinp’yo) and taken the land of a poor person like Min, dropping him into a deadly situation.95 A petitioner called Kang Chung-i, from Hoedok, lodged a similar complaint. Kang had signed the collective petition from Hoedok mentioned above but submitted a separate petition against Pak. Kang stated that Pak had affiliated himself with the force of the Sich’on’gyo religion (or Sich’on’gyo believer) and had taken the land by submitting 1 tu of rice as the “fee for the tenant field” (chondapse) to Yi Hyon-sik, the former chair of the Ilchinhoe Hoedok branch, and Yi Ya-ok, another Ilchinhoe member. Pak ploughed Kang’s field, which had already been seeded. When the local government ordered that the field be returned, Pak resisted, saying, “I bought the field from the Ilchinhoe chair with 1 tu of white rice. What is the use of the government instructions [kwanje]?” Kang asked the Royal Treasury to arrest Pak and punish him.96 In addition to the Ilchinhoe’s distribution of “licenses,” some records indicate that the Ilchinhoe tried to leave fields smaller than 4 turak to the old tenants when they transferred the tenant rights to the new tenants. A petitioner called Kim, from Hongsan, Southern Chungch’ong, wrote that he tilled public lands in the area, of 15 tu 5 sungnak, and barely managed to feed his eight family members. In February 1906, an Ilchinhoe member in his village displayed the Ilchinhoe’s document (sop’yo) as grounds for taking 12 turak out of the petitioner’s 15.5 turak field. Kim made all the efforts he could to reverse this transfer. He received instructions of the Royal Treasury and the provincial government prohibiting this transfer. But the Ilchinhoe member only scoffed at these orders. The petitioner Kim wrote that the Ilchinhoe member responded only to the Ilchinhoe branch’s order. Kim appealed to the Ilchinhoe headquarters in the capital and also went to the Ilchinhoe local branch to explain his case. In this case, the local branch approved Kim’s appeal and issued a document stating that Kim’s field should be returned. The Ilchinhoe member resisted even this local branch decision and tried hard to retain the land under dispute.97 In another case, two petitioners from Yongdong, Northern Ch’ungch’ong, wrote in May 1906 that they tilled 10 turak of the postal station lands in the area, 5 turak per person. Three Ilchinhoe members from their district took 6 of the 10 turak.98 Elsewhere, 95. 96. 97. 98.

Ibid., 10:205. Ibid., 10:219. Ibid., 10:211. Ibid., 10:211.

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a tenant called Pan tilled 7 turak of postal station lands. He received documentation from the Ilchinhoe in January 1906 that he should transfer 2 tu 5 sungnak of the land to others but could preserve the remaining 4 tu 5 sungnak as before. The Ilchinhoe may have set this regulation in order to leave the poorest tenants unviolated. But this did not seem to be very effective, given the eagerness of Ilchinhoe tenants to secure arable fields. Despite the Ilchinhoe branch’s license to preserve 4.5 turak, the aforementioned Pan soon faced a dispute with his neighbor Yu. According to Pan, Yu attempted to take Pan’s remaining land by all means possible.99 Interestingly, this tenant redistribution of the Ilchinhoe local branches caused the local magistrate in Hwanggan to suggest an equal distribution of the tenant fields among the residents. In March 1907, the tenants of the postal station lands in Hwanggan collectively submitted a petition against the Ilchinhoe (see Table 5). The head petitioner was Nam Tong-mun. He described the situation in his areas as follows: the old tenants had tilled the postal station lands in the district and barely made their living. Suddenly, an Ilchinhoe branch was installed in the area and stated that all the public lands were under their jurisdiction. They expelled the tenants from the lands, exposing several thousand people to the danger of starvation. Nam wrote that “once people had their hair cut and obtained the membership of the Ilchinhoe, the Ilchinhoe distributed the lands to them and made them cultivate the lands.” The local magistrate worried about the people’s condition in the district and decided that the “people ought to till the equally distributed lands among them” (sa minin p’yonggyunnyang punjak) to prevent further troubles. But the Ilchinhoe’s resistance was so severe that the magistrate could not protect himself and he had to escape to the capital.100 A petition from the same district in April 1907 describes the Ilchinhoe members in the district as “the crowds who had no occupation [silopchiryu] and ignored farming.”101 This description reveals several different possible social positions of the Ilchinhoe tenants. They could be a gang of the jobless in local areas or, in fact, tenants without enough land to concentrate on agriculture. The Ilchinhoe Hoedok branch tried to take 3 or 4 turak from tenants who tilled relatively larger fields (1 songnak). Some records show that local Ilchinhoe members tried to leave 4 or 5 turak to the original tenants. The tenant field sizes indicate that 4 or 5 turak was the poorest or smallest land size of old tenant petitioners and below the average tenant field sizes under dispute. Since the records of the Ilchinhoe local branches are unavailable in the Ch’ungch’ong files of Kaksa

99. Ibid., 10:297–298. 100. Ibid., 10:289, 292. 101. Ibid., 10:200.

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Tungnok, it is difficult to generalize about how the local branches exercised such regulations on tenant rights redistribution, much less to gauge the significance of these regulations to the Ilchinhoe’s local strife. It is certain that Ilchinhoe tenants did not ignore agriculture. They were avid in grabbing land and in holding onto it. To resolve this local strife over land, the local magistrate in Hwanggan tried to distribute an equal portion of the public lands to all the tillers under his rule. The Ilchinhoe tenants refused this solution and tried to keep what they had secured. The Ilchinhoe’s land dispute does not simply indicate Ilchinhoe members’ “greed” but also implicates the land problems in rural areas. The Ilchinhoe Ch’ungch’ong branches addressed the land hunger of their peasant members, but their particularistic terms and management antagonized many members of local society.

Limits of the Ilchinhoe’s Populism The Ilchinhoe tax resistance movement began to wane in 1907, as the Japanese implemented their new tax policies. The Korea Daily News exposed the fact that Song P’yong-jun, a close liaison of the Japanese, had known about the possibility of this intervention as early as late February 1905. At that time, the Ilchinhoe council discussed the direction of the tax resistance movement and found acute disagreement among members: one group of members proposed recruiting one Japanese assistant per prefecture to screen the corruption of magistrates, while the other group protested that good Korean magistrates should be sufficient, asking why they should recruit Japanese officials and how they could guarantee that the Japanese would not be corrupt. Song expected that the minister of the Japanese Legation (ilsa) would recommend Japanese intervention and suggested that the Ilchinhoe advise the Korean government to employ Japanese officials at the right time. Hong Kung-sop and others were furious about this remark and asked, “If we do that, aren’t we in fact Japan’s changgwi [whorish dev il]?” This caused a big quarrel in the council, and ten members withdrew their membership.102 This episode indicates that Song P’yong-jun had closely communicated with the Japanese and had played a critical role in rendering the Ilchinhoe movement subservient to the objectives of the Japanese protectorate. If the Ilchinhoe had persisted in their tax resistance movement and institutionalized popular involvement in the tax assessment and collection process, they might have moved in a more radical direction. Members could have then expected conflicts with the Japanese protectorate government and anticipated more trying ordeals. This may have been too excruciating for former Tonghaks, 102. KD, February 23, 1905.

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who had barely escaped severe government persecution. Moreover, some proJapanese liaisons, such as Song, would not have approved of this direction. In the end, the Ilchinhoe leadership decided to retain its position by submitting to the Japanese protectorate. The leaders limited themselves to struggling with the old elite over economic and political privileges while eschewing popular mobilization. Such opportunism, often observed in the populist politics of other countries, replicated the oft-observed limits of populist leadership: “vociferous in opposition and easily co-opted when in power.”103 The Ilchinhoe originally used their power to support the interests of the underprivileged and encouraged the people to openly dispute with the government officials and local elites who had offended their interests. Nevertheless, new power seekers also joined the Ilchinhoe and used the organization for their own profit. The raison d’etre of the Ilchinhoe movement gradually shifted from anti-state resistance to a power struggle with local elites. This in turn undermined the Ilchinhoe’s reformist image as a “defender” of the people. In time, some Ilchinhoe members in power came to imitate the practices of the old local elites, who had used their official connections to secure privileges that ran counter to the interests of the underprivileged.

103. Yves Mény and Yves Surel, Democracies and the Populist Challenge (New York: Palgrave, 2002), p. 17.

7 THE AUTHORITARIAN RESOLUTION The Ilchinhoe and the Japanese, 1904–1910

Historians of the Japanese empire have long debated what exactly Japan intended when it installed protectorate rule in Korea and how and why it reached its final decision to annex Korea. The crux of this debate is based on understanding the characteristics of the Japanese protectorate as a form of government and identifying the factors that made Japan move from governing Korea through a form of “indirect rule” to controlling Korea as a colony over which Japan had complete sovereignty.1 The question is whether Japan regarded it as acceptable that the protectorate reserved some autonomous space to the Korean government. The critical transition took place in mid-1907. The 1905 protectorate treaty abrogated the external sovereignty of the Korean state and allowed Japan to intervene in Korea’s domestic government mainly through the advisory roles of Japanese officials. After the July 1907 treaty, however, Japan placed a large number of Japanese in central positions in the Korean government. This construction of a “de facto” colonial rule contradicted the Ilchinhoe’s practice of direct popular intervention in certain areas of local administration. The Japanese historian Moriyama Shigenori has underlined that competing approaches existed among Japanese statesmen on how to rule Korea after the Russo-Japanese War. He distinguishes Ito Hirobumi’s civilian approach from 1. On diverse forms of protectorate rule, see Jürgen Osterhammel, Colonialism: A Theoretical Overview, trans. Shelley L. Frisch (Princeton, NJ: Markus Wiener Publishers, 2005), pp. 51–68; Michael W. Doyle, Empires (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1986), pp. 141–231; Jane Burbank and Frederick Cooper, Empires in World History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010), pp. 287–368. 241

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those of military or economic leaders who saw formal annexation as the best way to secure Japan’s interests in Korea. Moriyama argues that Ito initiated the transition to the “de facto annexation” in 1907 but still preferred maintenance of the protectorate system to formal colonial rule in Korea. Moriyama associates Ito’s position with his concern about Russia disapproving of Japan’s annexation of Korea.2 A recent study by Ogawara Hiroyuki questions this paradigm, insisting that this international factor may have accounted for Ito’s gradual approach to formal colonization but does not fully explain why he processed the de facto annexation while preserving the Korean imperial house.3 Ogawara argues that after 1907, Ito, like other Japanese leaders, accepted annexation as the ultimate end of Japan’s rule in Korea but that he wanted a different type of colony for Korea. Suggesting a few supporting documents, Ogawara calls Ito’s vision a “selfgoverning colony” in which Koreans could create a legislature, but the government was ruled by the “vice-king” (puwang), the Japanese resident-general, in his “assistance to the Korean emperor”; the colonial officials were to be appointed and supervised by the Japanese government.4 According to Ogawara, Ito considered it important to retain the cooperation of the Korean imperial house and to borrow its authority so as to mitigate Korean resistance to the protectorate. Ogawara sees evidence of Ito’s idea of a self-governing colony in the transformation of the protectorate after the July 1907 treaty, such as in the recruitment of large numbers of Japanese officials into the Korean government, the deprivation of the judicial and administrative authority from Korean governors and magistrates, and the Korean emperor Sunjong’s procession organized by Ito. But Ito did not establish a self-governing colony in Korea. Ogawara ascribes this “failure” to Korea’s domestic circumstance, especially the Korean notion of the monarch that the people had consolidated during the era of the Great Korean Empire. Contrary to Ito’s expectation, Ogawara argues, this notion, based on the Confucian association of the sovereign and the people, provoked Korean resistance rather than lending the authority of the Korean monarch to the “legitimacy” of Japan’s rule in Korea.5 Ogawa points out that the decisions of Japanese leaders depended on Korean circumstances rather than solely reflecting their calculation of international factors. Ogawa’s criticism is valuable, but his 2. Moriyama Shigenori, Nikkan Heigo (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1992); Moriyama Shigenori, Kindai Nikkan Kankeishi Kenkyu: Chosen shokuminchika to Kokusai Kankei (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1987). 3. Ogawara Hiroyuki, Ito Hirobumi no Kankoku Heigo Koso to Chosen Shakai: Okenron no Sokoku (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2010), pp. 3–14. 4. Ibid., pp. 185–191. 5. Ibid., pp. 245–280.

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analysis of Korean society is abstract. Most important, his discussion of the Korean monarchy is somewhat idealized without taking into account the Korean debates for redefining the king’s sovereignty vis-à-vis that of the people. As mentioned earlier, toward the end of the protectorate period, the Korean nationalist discourse abandoned its earlier consensus on a constitutional monarchy for the vision of a republic. Reverence for the Korean emperor did not subsequently generate any substantial movements envisioning an independent Korea founded upon preserving the monarchy’s symbolic importance. Japan’s statesmen suggested various ideas for governing Japan’s colonies and modified their ideas over the course of history. This chapter does not investigate such diverse strands of Japanese discourse but limits its focus to the specific decisions that the Japanese protectorate made and the consequences that such decisions had for Korean society—in this case, for Ilchinhoe members and other Korean elite reformers. As shown in previous chapters, the Ilchinhoe’s popular mobilization disrupted the established networks of institutions and privileges through which the late Choson state governed society. Ilchinhoe members justified this disruption as an intervention by “the people’s representatives” and tried to obtain official authorization of this “popular” interference. The Japanese protectorate never endorsed the Ilchinhoe’s role as “the people’s representatives” and suspected its popular mobility of having “harmful” effects for Japan. Faced with Japanese objections to their movements, Ilchinhoe leaders yielded to circumstances instead of holding onto their original practices. After July 1907, they discontinued their popular mobilization, entered power struggles with other elites in pursuit of government positions, and organized voluntary guards against the anti-Japanese guerrillas. The Ilchinhoe movement at this stage demonstrated a pathology of populist movements, confounding the “people’s interests” with those of movement leaders or participants. The downfall of the Ilchinhoe movement was dramatic because Japan’s move toward colonization destroyed the material and political bases on which Ilchinhoe local members might have defended themselves from accusations of treason. The Ilchinhoe started their campaigns proposing that alliance with Japan was “indispensable” for Korea’s reform and independence. However, there was a critical discrepancy between Japan’s imperatives in Korea and the objectives of the Ilchinhoe members. Whereas the Ilchinhoe called for reform for “the people” and mobilized ordinary Koreans over their critical interests—namely, taxation and land distribution—the Japanese protectorate did not tolerate such popular upheavals. Overall, Japan’s position toward the group changed through three stages that followed: (1) the Ilchinhoe’s popular mobilization, between mid-1904 and mid-1906; (2) the Ilchinhoe’s organizational crisis and Kojong’s purge, from

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mid-1906 to mid-1907; and (3) the period after Kojong’s abdication through annexation, between mid-1907 and 1910. In the first stage, Japan’s relation to the Ilchinhoe was uneven, and its main support for the group came from the Japanese military. During the Russo-Japanese War, the Japanese military depended on Ilchinhoe members to construct railways and deliver war supplies to Japanese soldiers on the front lines. In exchange for the Ilchinhoe’s services, the military protected Ilchinhoe members in an alliance of convenience. This support was unstable, however, because the Japanese military did not want domestic disturbances in Korea, which would endanger war supply lines as well as Japan’s long-term projects. The primary indigenous agency of war procurement was the Korean government, no matter how coerced it was, according to the treaty of 1904 between Korea and Japan. The Ilchinhoe may have been anxious to prove their support for the war, yet the group was not as effective as local governments in actual procurement. During this first period, the Japanese protectorate benefited from the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance, which weakened the Korean monarchy and the Korean emperor’s financial bases in particular. More study is needed to determine how Ilchinhoe members started their tax resistance against the Royal Treasury and attempted to replace the government agents with their own. As shown in earlier chapters, however, the agendas of the Ilchinhoe members were indigenous, and the directions of their movements were populist, in the sense that they justified the intervention of Ilchinhoe members in the name of the people and their interests, defined against the political and social establishment of the old regime. The Japanese protectorate never approved of what the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance resulted in or of the group’s emergence as a “de facto representative of the people” in some local areas. In the second period, the Japanese decided to remove the uncooperative Kojong and formed a political coalition within the Korean cabinet to depose him. Uchida Ryohei, the Japanese rightist and Pan-Asianist, advised Ito Hirobumi to recruit some of the Ilchinhoe leaders in the government, which was squeezed at the time between Japan’s restraints on popular mobilization and surging anti-Japanese sentiment among Koreans. Meanwhile, the Japanese protectorate halted Ilchinhoe members’ involvement in tax administration and reversed the gains they had achieved in their tax resistance and their administrative influence in the public lands. During this second stage, Japan’s direct intervention in Korea’s domestic government was partial and incomplete. Thus the Japanese endorsed the traditional networks of local magistrates and heads of local elite associations—the Ilchinhoe’s main local opponents—and granted them the right to be the sole channels for tax administration. This critically damaged the Ilchinhoe’s popular and local bases of support.

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In the third and final stage, although the Japanese appointed some prominent Ilchinhoe leaders to government positions, they concentrated on appeasing the Korean aristocracy and local elites who were providing the leadership in antiJapanese guerrilla movements. While conducting punitive expeditions against the guerrillas, Ito Hirobumi met with local Confucian elites in person, choreographed an imperial procession for Sunjong, the last Korean monarch, and tried to represent Japan as Sunjong’s “guardian” rather than his oppressor. The top leaders at Ilchinhoe headquarters focused on securing government positions for themselves, while local Ilchinhoe members were being assaulted by the Righteous Armies. Meanwhile, the Ilchinhoe leaders were directed by the Japanese rightist organization the Black Dragon Society and drafted the infamous 1909 Ilchinhoe petitions requesting Japan to annex Korea. Increasingly reduced to Japan’s instruments for colonizing Korea, Ilchinhoe branches were perishing in local areas. Some local branches collectively withdrew from the organization, and some individual members even advertized their statement of withdrawal in newspapers such as the Imperial Gazetteer. The Ilchinhoe’s identification as “the People’s Rights Party” (Minkwondang) became a target of constant ridicule and sarcastic gossip in the elite newspapers of the time. After the abdication of the Korean emperor Kojong, Ito Hirobumi, a shrewd and clever statesman, co-opted the Ilchinhoe’s high leaders yet ruled out popular challenges to the protectorate’s administration. Ito recruited Ilchinhoe officials as a matter of expediency and gave strategic importance to reconciling with the Korean monarchy and its conservative elite establishment. In the latter half of the protectorate period, the Imperial Gazetteer penned many articles or reports on creating parliaments in local areas and revisited the ideas of the Independent that the election of local representatives, governors, and magistrates by majority popular votes could be a critical means to reform the government and constrain its arbitrariness, corruption, or cruelty.6 These elite movements did not cancel out the possibility of maintaining the Japanese protectorate until the Korean people were ready for self-government and the Korean state became strong enough to recover its full sovereignty. The idea of local self-government was proposed by a variety of elite groups, from the conservative local elites to elite reformers represented by the Imperial Gazetteer.7 Yu Kil-jun organized an association of citizens of the capital in order to prepare for autonomous local government in Seoul.8 Ogawara’s evidence is thin in confirming Ito’s intention on a self-governing colony. It is difficult to discern whether Ito was simply calculating 6. ID, April 14, 1896, pp. 1–2. 7. IG, November 2, 1904, p. 1; September 15, 1906, p. 2; September 17, 1906, p. 2; November 1, 1906, p. 2; November 2, 1906, p. 2. 8. IG, December 12, 1908, p. 2.

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the right timing for formal annexation or whether he seriously aimed at transforming the protectorate for establishing a self-governing colony. In any event, Ito’s version of colony was incommensurate with the “local autonomy” meant by the elite Korean reformers. Korean elite reformers proposed that local autonomy include the popular election of governors and officials and stressed the enhanced role of local parliaments in monitoring and restraining the power of state officials. Never forgoing Japan’s priority for the sake of Korean reformers, Ito maintained a state-centric approach. At the final stage of his rule, Ito tried hard to appease conservative Korean elites by promising local stability and successfully turned the Korean monarchy into Japan’s colony. This Japanese process of colonizing Korea perpetuated, instead of transforming, the supremacy of the central state that the Korean reformers from the mid-nineteenth century on had tried to modify or overturn and thereby reinforced the authoritarian character of Korea’s state-society relations.

The Ilchinhoe’s Reform and Japan’s “Prerogatives”: 1904–1907 It is debatable how discontinuous the transition from protectorate rule to formal annexation was in Japan’s colonization of Korea. Even admitting that Japanese protectorate rule in Korea was “informal,” it is undeniable that Japan was from the beginning geared toward possessing “real power” ( jitsuken) in Korea. The Japanese cabinet and the genro (the council of elderly statesmen) decided on the basic guidelines for Japan’s Korea policy in April and May 1904. The two policy priorities were (1) to consolidate Japanese authority over Korea’s foreign relations and (2) to gradually take over Korea’s military and financial power.9 The guidelines elaborated, in six categories, the general principles for Japan’s intervention in Korean domestic politics: military, foreign relations, finance, transportation, communication facilities, and colonization (shokuminka) of the economy.10 The Japanese government euphemistically called its policies an “improvement of governance” and repeatedly cautioned that its intervention must 9. Peter Duus regards these documents as revealing basic policies of protectorate rule that address comprehensive Japanese concerns of the military high command, pro-reform elements, trading interests, and civilian expansionists. He considers the premise of the documents consistent with the Japanese guidelines for their Korean policy since the 1880s. Peter Duus, The Abacus and the Sword: The Japanese Penetration of Korea, 1895–1910 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), pp. 182–186. 10. Kim Chong-ju, ed., Chosen Tochi Shiryo (hereafter CTS), vol. 3 (Tokyo: Kankoku Shiryo Kenkyukai, 1972), pp. 634–635.

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9. The leaders of the “voluntary guard aides” (chawidae wpnhodan). When the Japanese created the “voluntary guards” against the anti-Japanese guerrillas, local Ilchinhoe members organized aide squads to assist the voluntary guards. The officers in black uniforms at the back of the photo are probably the Japanese military police. In the front two rows, the aide squad leaders wear short hair and caps and hold rifles. Photo courtesy of the Independence Hall of Korea.

wait until the opportunity was ripe.11 But the stated goal was to obtain “real power” in Korea.12 The Japanese government predicted a period of instability after the treaty and cautioned its officials to implement the guidelines in a timely fashion, depending on existing power relations between the Japanese and the Koreans.13 The guidelines emphasized the importance of attaining Japanese military and financial supremacy in Korea. By stationing Japanese troops in strategic locations, the protectorate anticipated using the troops flexibly to cope with internal and external crises in Korea. The military was also intended to sustain everyday Japanese power over Koreans, “irrespective of status.”14 The guidelines gave top priority to control of Korean finances, which were regarded as the foundation of the colonial administration and necessary for carrying out the “improvement of governance.”15 11. CTS, 3:634–640. 12. Ibid., 3:643. 13. Ibid., 3:643. 14. Ibid., 3:635–636. 15. The Japanese attributed Korean financial disorder to excessive military expenditures amounting to 4,123,000 out of 9,697,000 won, more than 40 percent of the total annual expenses of the Korean government in 1903. This provided an additional rationale for Japan to disarm the

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10. The Ilchinhoe headquarters near Independence Hall. The Ilchinhoe demanded that the Korean government transfer the hall and its associated land to them. The Ilchinhoe constructed their headquarters, a public assembly hall, and the Kwangmu school on this property. Photo courtesy of the Independence Hall of Korea.

Because the Japanese were very careful to maintain domestic stability in Korea, they did not tolerate the continuous Korean protests against the Korean government. Instead, the Japanese focused on consolidating their status as “superior” rulers above the “upper and lower echelons” of Korean society. Neither the Japanese consul nor the Japanese military looked favorably on the Ilchinhoe’s subversive acts. When the Chinbohoe uprisings swept P’yongan Province, for example, Japanese diplomats sent notes to Korean officials in which they requested that the officials warn Koreans not to be “deluded” by the Chinbohoe’s agitations. The actions of the Japanese consul in P’yongan provide clear evidence of Japanese objections to the Ilchinhoe. On January 3, 1905, the Japanese consul in Samhwa, Someya Nariaki, sent a letter to the director-general of Samhwa (samhwa kamni) about the Ilchinhoe’s violent conflicts with the Kongjinhoe in Seoul. Someya’s letter stated that the minister of the Japanese Legation (kongsa) in Seoul, Hayashi Gonsuke, had called in the Japanese military police to reestablish the peace on December 29, 1904. Revealing his contempt and anxiety in the letter, the Japanese consul wrote that many Koreans, calling themselves the Ilchinhoe or the Kongjinhoe, had recently organized parties and persuaded people to join. He worried that these Korean government. Japan curtailed military expenditures and reduced the Korean army by nearly 16,000 soldiers, to a small number of the royal guards.

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parties would threaten domestic security if they were left to themselves. He also mentioned that the Japanese protectorate had tried to find ways to prevent them from such instability. The consul was alarmed that these parties created such havoc in the name of reforming the government and stressed that it was Japan that should monopolize all efforts at “reforming the government” in Korea. It was the “Japanese government,” he emphasized, that should improve Korean administration in the central and local offices, according to the 1904 protocol between Korea and Japan. After this assertion, he conveyed Hayashi’s orders instructing that local governments post in public an announcement about Japanese policies for “reforming” the Korean government. The announcement urged that the Korean people henceforth file their complaints on the “tyrannical” rule of the Korean government directly with the local Japanese consulate or with the minister of the Japanese Legation through its consulate. The consul suggested that this announcement was designed to stop the “rash and thoughtless” actions of associations such as the Ilchinhoe and Kongjinhoe. He also requested that the director-general (kamni) of Samhwa send this announcement to each prefecture and allow it to be displayed in public. On the same day, January 3, 1905, Consul Someya ordered that the directorgeneral of Samhwa send a notice to the prefectures in Hwanghae and P’yongan provinces, where the Ilchinhoe prevailed. The notice warned the Korean people that the Ilchinhoe’s agitation would not bring about any good results but, rather, would endanger domestic peace in Korea. The notice also ordered that, if crowds calling themselves the Ilchinhoe held public assemblies in these prefectures, the local magistrates must inform the consulate in detail about the nature, purpose, and actions of these assemblies. Someya asked that the notice be sent to Hwangju, P’yongsan, P’ungsan, Koksan, Sohung, Pongsan, Anak, Chaeryong, Suan, Sinch’on, Singye, Munhwa, Changryon, Songhwa, Unyul, and T’osan in Hwanghae Province and to Chunghwa, Samhwa, Hamjong, Sangwon, Yonggang, Kangso, and Chungsan in P’yongan Province. The notice read: Improvement of the central and local government of Korea was one of the important tasks for our [Japanese] imperial government to implement gradually in accordance with the protocol between Japan and Korea. The imperial government has embarked on this task now. The general order and its maintenance within Korea is also what the Japanese government has taken charge of. Therefore, from now on, if Korean subjects have any matters about which to make accusations due to the cruel administration of the central and local governments, they should directly file them with this vice-consulate or the Minister of the

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Japanese Legation in Seoul via the vice-consulate. Then this vice-consulate will immediately present the complaints to the Minister of the Japanese Legation in Seoul and strive for sufficient ways to address them. Recently, calling themselves Ilchinhoe members, there are those who organize parties and assemble the multitudes. They also dispatch their representatives to Seoul and other places, carry ing their petitions. This is stupid behavior that will not have any effect except simply to waste precious time and wealth. In the end, it will threaten peace and quiet within Korea. Henceforth, this notice is to warn good Korean people who reside in this region never to become involved in these activities.16 The Korean government considered this notice to be Japanese interference in domestic politics and a violation of the treaty of 1905, which limited Japan’s role in Korea to its foreign relations and financial reorganization. In response, the Korean foreign minister17 sent a directive to the director-general of Samhwa that read as follows: “Korean local officials are responsible for calming the people’s minds and hearing their petitions. Foreigners are not to become involved in this process. This issue relates to the Korean state’s sovereignty [kukwon], and the director-general should inform the consulate accordingly through official letters and conversations.” Although the director-general asked the Japanese consul to cancel the notice, the consul refused to negotiate over the matter until Hayashi, the minister of the Japanese Legation, sent his instructions.18

Financial Policies of the Protectorate Government The Japanese resolved to change the finances of the Korean government according to the aforementioned guidelines. Their purpose in such “reform” was to remove material support for the Korean monarchy and to secure a revenue basis for the Japanese protectorate government in Korea. Japan tolerated the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement as long as it assisted the Japanese in the transfer of revenues from the Korean imperial house to the Ministry of Finance under the control of the Japanese financial advisor. However, Japan neither permitted the Ilchinhoe to institutionalize the group’s participation in tax collections nor sanctioned its elimination of the miscellaneous taxes or its reduction of rent rates on the public lands. Japanese officials worried whether Korean taxpayers would comply with the Japanese administration; and before they directly con16. KSTN, 38:682–683. 17. The Foreign Ministry of the Korean government was abolished in 1906. 18. KSTN, 38:686.

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11. The visit of the Japanese crown prince Yoshihito (later the Japanese emperor Taisho) in 1907. Yoshihito is third from the left in the front row. Prince Ypngch’in stands to the right of Yoshihito, and Ito Hirobumi is on the far right in the front row (1907). From Sin Ki-su, ed., Hanil Pypnghapsa, 1875–1945, trans. Yi Vn-ju (Seoul: Nunbit Ch’ulp’ansa, 2009), p. 55. Photo courtesy of Nunbit Ch’ulp’ansa.

trolled the central government in Korea, they preferred to work through the traditional institution of the dynasty, linking local magistrates with local elite networks, rather than to rely on the Ilchinhoe’s subversive mobilization. Japan hoped to meet the financial demands of the protectorate government within the limits of Korean revenue resources and reorganized the finances of the Korean government accordingly. The protocol between Korea and Japan in February 1904 identified this task and included an article stating that Korea should follow Japan’s advice for the “improvement of governance.” The subsequent treaty between Korea and Japan, signed on August 22, 1904, forced the Korean government to appoint Japanese advisors in managing its foreign relations and finances. The Japanese financial advisor thus came to possess complete jurisdiction over the state finances of Korea. His approval was necessary for implementing all the financial policies of the Korean government, and his endorsement was essential before finance-related decisions of the cabinet and other ministries could be presented to the Korean emperor. Megata Tanetaro, who had been the director of the taxation bureau in the Japanese Ministry of Finance, arrived as the first financial advisor to Korea on December 17, 1904. Megata subsequently received a memorandum on the financial integration of the Korean government (chaejong t’ong’il e kwanhan kakso) from the Japanese foreign minister, Komura Jutaro, in March 1905. The focus of the memorandum

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was the treasury of the Korean imperial house.19 As mentioned previously, the Korean emperor had moved taxation rights for the public lands from the Ministry of Finance to the Royal Treasury (Naejangwon) and had attached responsibility for most of the miscellaneous taxes to the latter during the Kwangmu Reform. He also possessed the majority of mines in the country and placed the Bureau of Mintage (chonhwan’guk) under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of the Royal Household. As a result of this concentration, the Ministry of Finance exercised jurisdiction only over land taxes (kyolhojon) and thus played a minor role in the state finances of Korea. Under such circumstances, even if Japan could control the Ministry of Finance, it could not wield real financial power in Korea. Japan moved quickly to appropriate the properties of the Korean imperial house and to remove its tax collection rights. This financial reorganization in Korea proceeded in two stages. In the first half of the protectorate rule, Japan transferred taxation rights from the Royal Treasury to the Ministry of Finance, promulgated new regulations on taxation, and rearranged the tax collection system. In the second stage, after the Third Korea-Japan Agreement, in July 1907, guaranteed Japan the right to intervene in Korea’s domestic affairs, the protectorate government confiscated the properties of the Korean imperial house and nationalized most of them.20 The impact of this financial reorganization erased the gains of the Ilchinhoe during their tax resistance movement. First, Japan implemented a system of local taxation and included in local taxes some miscellaneous tax items, such as market taxes and port taxes. When the protectorate government promulgated the regulations on local taxes (chibangse kyuch’ik) on December 29, 1906, such miscellaneous taxes were transferred from the category of national taxes to local taxes. This transfer invalidated the abolishment of the miscellaneous taxes in some of the riverside areas that had taken place at the peak of the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement. It also destroyed the aforementioned “local alliance” between the Ilchinhoe and the local magistrates or local elite associations. The latter temporarily recovered their rights to collect taxes, although the protectorate government deprived them of these rights and appointed Japanese officials for tax collection following the treaty of July 1907. Second, the Japanese policies canceled out what Ilchinhoe members had achieved in the public lands. Japan nationalized the postal station lands, the col-

19. Kim Chae-ho, “Kabo kaehyok ihu kundae chok chaejong chedo ui hyongsong kwajong e Kwanhan yon’gu,” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1997, pp. 246–247. 20. Kim Chae-ho, “Kabo kaehyok ihu kundae chok chaejong chedo ui hyongsong kwajong e Kwanhan yon’gu,” p. 190.

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ony lands, and the palace estates (kungjangt’o) between 1907 and 1908.21 It established a provisional bureau in July 1907 for investigating the properties of the Korean imperial house and those under state ownership (imsi chesilyu kup kukyu chaesan chosaguk). The bureau eliminated commissioners of the Royal Treasury (Kyongniwon) and moved rent collection of the public lands to the Ministry of Finance. Japan also abolished the Royal Treasury and nationalized most of the properties of the Korean imperial house and those of the state in November 1907.22 It further removed the tenant supervisors and the intermediary rent collectors;23 instead, it gave the director of the financial bureau (chaemugwan) in each province and the local county heads (myonjang) the responsibility for collecting rents and taxes from the public lands. In effect, this eliminated the roles of Ilchinhoe members, who comprised the majority of the tenant supervisors in some areas and took part in the assessment and collection of rents from public lands.

The Cases of Rapprochement between the Ilchinhoe and the Royal Treasury Some records of the Korean government reveal that once the Ilchinhoe had established power in local society, some commissioners for rent collection in the Royal Treasury (sujogwan) actually preferred cooperation to confrontation with Ilchinhoe members. One rent-collecting agent, Kim Yang-son, testified how a commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) sought the Ilchinhoe’s cooperation. Kim was dispatched to Kaech’on Prefecture as an agent for rent collection in the public lands (sujop’awon) in November 1906.24 He discovered that most of the tenants, as well as the previous agent in the postal station lands, Ch’a Pyonghong, were Ilchinhoe members. Ch’a, who was described as a tax collection expert (p’awon jisain),25 made the work of the new agent virtually impossible. Kim argued that Ch’a refused the order of the Royal Treasury to collect the fire tax (hawse, the tax for a slash-and-burn field) in rice (ponsaengmi) and secretly distributed the amount of tax in cash to each tenant household (chakchon) 21. Afterward, they carried out comprehensive surveys of the lands in three stages: investigation of the actual size of the lands, between 1909 and 1910; examination of land ownership, between 1910 and 1917, simultaneous with the cadastral survey; and investigation of the possibility of selling the lands, in 1918. Kim Yang’sik, “Taehan cheguk, ilche ha yoktunt’o yon’gu,” PhD diss., Tan’guk University, 1992, p. 173. 22. Ibid., pp. 176–177. 23. Ibid., p. 185. 24. KSTN, 37:41–42. 25. It is not clearly written in the record where he was dispatched (p’a). P’awon might have indicated that he was sent from the Ilchinhoe. The conflict between Ch’a and Kim shows that the replacement of old tenant supervisors with Ilchinhoe supervisors or tax experts was not a smooth procedure.

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according to the fixed rate. Ch’a collected the tax but did not submit the collected 1,700 yang to the government. The new agent, Kim, could neither re-collect the tax, due to tenant resentment, nor could he force Ch’a to return the money because the Ilchinhoe members would not heed Kim’s orders.26 The tenants wished, Kim observed, to pay the rents in cash, whereas the government ordered them to pay in grain. He asked the government to arrest Ch’a for collecting taxes in the area, whether in cash or in grain. A year later, Kim accused Won Yong-gyu, the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) in Southern P’yongan Province, of disregarding the directives from the Kyongniwon and helping Om Kye-hyon and Ch’a Pyong-hyon resist the orders. Kim testified that the Ilchinhoe member Ch’a Pyong-hyon had attempted to affiliate the rent from the public lands with the local school under the Ilchinhoe’s influence. Kim suspected that Won sent his letter to the local magistrate and allowed the Ilchinhoe members to accompany some police officers in order to seize the rents in grain that Kim had collected and possessed. The grain confiscated from Kim amounted to 27 sok 11 tu 3 sung, and the money totaled 3,276 yang. Kim requested that the Kyongniwon understand his efforts to follow its orders and investigate the tenants who had misappropriated rent.27 This cooperative attitude of the commissioner toward the Ilchinhoe shows the complicated interactions between the Ilchinhoe, the local governments, and the central government under Japanese control. As mentioned in Chapter 5, in the early stage of their tax resistance, some Ilchinhoe members had allied themselves with local governments and with the officials of local elite associations in several cases. This alliance against the Royal Treasury shifted when the protectorate government acknowledged the traditional roles of local governments and local elite associations and refused to authorize any other channels. This policy isolated commissioners of the Royal Treasury from the administrative networks and caused them to lose their authority over local officials, leading them to recognize the utility of the Ilchinhoe’s local power in tax collection. The provincial governors and local magistrates, originally the agents of the central government, did not support the direct tax collection of the Royal Treasury and criticized the officials and tax-collecting agents that the treasury dispatched to local areas. The governor of Southern P’yongan Province, Yi Chungha, wrote in June 1905 that “unqualified profit seekers” had obtained positions as tenant supervisors or tax collectors and exploited the people.28 On October 26. KSTN, 37:51. 27. Ibid., 37:111. 28. Yi mentioned the case of an Uiju resident who had forged a letter of authorization from the Royal Treasury. He collected 19, 000 yang from the heads of local associations as rent from military lands (kunjon) and embezzled the money.

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19, 1905, the Chongju magistrate also presented the Royal Treasury with a cosigned petition of tenants of the postal station lands. In this petition, the tenants complained that tenant supervisors in the lands imposed additional rents (kado) and collected rents in kind (t’ajobonsaek) instead of in cash (tojon). The tenants claimed that “wicked crooks” had taken the tenant supervisor (saum) positions and altered the payment of the rents from cash to grain for their own profit. The tenants requested that the Royal Treasury allow them to pay the fixed rate rents (chongdo) as they had done in previous years.29 The local magistrates supported such petitions and opposed the direct collection of taxes by the dispatched officials. Some heads of local elite associations also complained about this direct tax collection by the Royal Treasury and participated in tax resistance. The tenant protests against tenant supervisors differed from these complaints by local officials or local elites about the direct tax collection of the central government. Whereas the tenants wanted to reduce rental rates and eliminate exploitation by tax collectors in general, the local officials and old local elites focused on recovering their own jurisdictions over tax administration. The local magistrates and local associations thus initially supported the policy of the protectorate government because it restored for the time being the rights to tax collection that they had lost, whether to agents of the Royal Treasury or to Ilchinhoe members. The commissioners for rent collection of the Royal Treasury exhibited a variety of attitudes toward the complaints of local officials against the tenant supervisors. The commissioner in Southern P’yongan Province (p’yongnam sujogwan) supported such complaints. In his report on November 16, 1905, he requested unified tax collection procedures for removing the problems of tax-collecting agents.30 Cho Chong-yun, the director-general of mines in Northern P’yongan Province and local magistrate in T’aech’on, supported the local officials and blamed the Ilchinhoe for unpaid taxes and rents in the province. However, Won Yong-gyu, who became a new commissioner for rent collection for the Royal Treasury in late 1905, was critical of the complaints of local officials and heads of local elite associations and neutral or even favorable toward the arguments of Ilchinhoe members. Won reported a case in Unsan where local functionaries and officials of local elite associations had misappropriated the rents from public lands for their own profit. When he dispatched his agents to collect the unpaid rent, the head of the local association (hyangjang) protested, claiming that the tenants of public lands in his prefecture were so uncooperative that he was unable to implement the 29. KSTN, 38:212. 30. Ibid., 38:217–218.

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government directives. After a while, the people in the village formed a crowd and threatened the tax collectors. The tenants declared that they would pay their taxes directly to the local government of their prefecture. Won argued that the tenants never listened to the tax-collecting officers and even tried to oust them from the prefecture. He ascribed the tenant disobedience to manipulation of the local head, whom he accused of being responsible for such an “uncivilized” practice (hwa oe chi sup). Won criticized some local officials for falsely blaming the Ilchinhoe for problems in tax collection. He pointed out that in Sunch’on and Songch’on the local magistrates or local officials had completed the collection of taxes but postponed their delivery to the Royal Treasury on the “pretext” of the Ilchinhoe’s interference. Won requested that the Royal Treasury arrest the local clerks and the officials of the local associations (yihyang) in Unsan, Sunch’on, and Songch’on prefectures. The minister of the Royal Treasury agreed and ordered the Sunch’on magistrate to enter the capital and deliver the collected taxes in person.31 Won also accused the old local elites of delaying the submission of collected rents or taxes to the Royal Treasury. The local magistrates and local associations at this time anticipated that they would recover their power and tax collection rights if the Ministry of Finance took control of revenue collections. One can see this expectation, for example, in the case of the Songch’on magistrate, in November 1905, after the Ministry of Finance sent a directive to unify channels for collecting revenues. The directive followed the Japanese decision to remove the right of the imperial house to collect revenues and to restore the roles of local governments and local associations in tax administration. In accordance with this decision, the Songch’on magistrate insisted that local magistrates and provincial governors possessed sole authority for tax collection. The magistrate wrote that he would place the collected taxes in a safe at the local government office and list them in records of revenues, implying that he would not submit the collected taxes to the Royal Treasury. Won was furious with the Songch’on magistrate. He argued that the magistrate was attempting to apply the directive to taxes over which the Ministry of Finance had no jurisdiction. Suspecting an alliance between the local magistrate and officials of local associations, the commissioner wrote that the magistrate had trusted the “unfaithful” words of the local clerks and heads of local associations in making such an “inappropriate” request.32 Won maintained that the local clerks and heads of local associations (yihyang) had taken advantage of the Ilchinhoe’s agitation and refused to deliver the collected money to the Royal 31. Ibid. 32. Ibid., 38:217–219.

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Treasury. He repeatedly requested that the Royal Treasury punish the local clerks and the heads of the local associations. He portrayed Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors as more reliable partners than the local officials.33 From his perspective, the local associations and magistrates had defied the directions of the Royal Treasury for their personal profit while the Ilchinhoe were more concerned about the people’s interests and receptive to the widespread protests of angry tenants and taxpayers.

Claiming Official Status for the Ilchinhoe: The Case of Hwanghae Province The political dynamics surrounding the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance can be more clearly observed in the records of Hwanghae Province.34 Although the Ilchinhoe population was smaller in Hwanghae, its leadership in the tax resistance was no less successful. At least for a time, it was able to formally engage in tax collection in the province. Moreover, government records show that the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance in Hwanghae generated less local strife and fewer reports of abusive acts by the Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors than in P’yongan. When the Japanese financial official ordered local governments to remove Ilchinhoe tenant supervisors from their positions, tenant protests followed in some areas against the return of the old tenant supervisors who would replace the Ilchinhoe members. The agent dispatched for rent collection (sujo p’awon), Kim Su-hong, reported on such a situation in October 1905. When he arrived in Hwangju, the Ilchinhoe members in the area visited him. They criticized Kim for violating the “established precedents” because he had not passed through the Ilchinhoe but had directly submitted to the local government the documents authorizing his duties. Kim denied the existence of such precedents and the Ilchinhoe’s entitlement to review the government’s authorization. After this conflict, Kim immediately faced the Ilchinhoe’s resistance. When the tax officer estimated the rent for public land in the area of the Tae dike to be 400 sok, the Ilchinhoe members came to the fields together and tried to force the officer to reduce the amount of the rent. They suggested their own estimation of 300 sok, which they calculated according to the 6 tu rate for high-quality fields, the 4 tu rate for middle quality, and the 2 tu rate for low-quality lands. 33. Ibid., 38:222–223. 34. Ibid., 25:612. Unlike the Catholics discussed in Chapter 2, the Ilchinhoe carried out more reserved campaigns in Hwanghae Province. There were fewer government reports that they engaged in illegal challenges, such as arrests of police officers, private punishments, or mobilization of local residents for forced labor.

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All the people of the area, the Ilchinhoe members argued, recognized the Ilchinhoe’s authority to estimate the amount of rent and present rent to the government. Kim did not accept the suggested rate, stating that the tenant rent for the lands was in principle 600 sok, in accordance with government regulations, and that he had already subtracted 200 sok owing to the dry climate in spring and frequent rainfall in autumn of that year. Unsatisfied, the Ilchinhoe demanded further reductions and the elimination of other burdens, including the rent and fees for the intermediary rent collectors (chungdojo).35 Kim’s report shows that tenants in the area had entrusted the Ilchinhoe with negotiating with the government agent on tax collection. This tenant support for the Ilchinhoe effectively nullified the authority of the dispatched agent and led the commissioner for rent collection (sujogwan) in Haeju to recognize the Ilchinhoe’s official role in tax collection. Kim reported to the Royal Treasury in December 1904 how the Ilchinhoe and tenants of the area succeeded in expelling the dispatched agents. Five or six agents for tax collection had arrived in Hwangju in September 1904. Because of the Ilchinhoe’s interference, the agents could not carry out their duties and spent only several thousand yang for their living expenses during their stay of several months. After a number of conflicts with the Ilchinhoe on various issues, they decided to accept the Ilchinhoe’s demands and collect the taxes along with the Ilchinhoe. The commissioner for rent collection in Haeju came to the prefecture at the end of November and sent a directive to the Ilchinhoe branch in Hwangju. He ordered the old dispatched agents to return to the capital and the Ilchinhoe branch to take responsibility for tax collection instead. Kim Su-hong requested that the Royal Treasury reverse this and order the old agents to return to their duty.36 This official recognition of the Ilchinhoe’s role in tax collection granted the Ilchinhoe more official status in Hwanghae Province. The commissioner not only replaced the old agents with Ilchinhoe members but also accepted the Ilchinhoe’s demand to send government directives straight to the Ilchinhoe branch. This meant that he delegated some administrative tasks for tax collection to the Ilchinhoe branch. Since the Ilchinhoe members suggested their own alternative tax rates and specified tax items for elimination, the commissioner’s concession was supposed to improve the position of both the Ilchinhoe and taxpayers in the tax collection process. Japanese officials in the protectorate government considered this delegation of tax duties at odds with the protectorate’s own policies in Korea. They received reports from various channels on the decision of the commissioner in Haeju. In 35. Ibid., 25:624. 36. Ibid., 25:629–630.

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January 1906, the local magistrate in Sohung criticized the Ilchinhoe’s involvement in tax collection. According to his report, when he tried to collect rents from the postal station lands under direction of the Ministry of Finance, the commissioner of rent collection sent an official document stating that he had appointed Ilchinhoe member Kim Song-ch’il to be the new agent for rent collection (sujo p’awon). The magistrate estimated that this decision would reduce the revenue from the lands, given the Ilchinhoe’s efforts in favor of tax reduction.37 The central government did not approve of this delegation of tax authority by the commissioner for rent collection and dispatched a new agent, Kim Munhong, in January 1906. Kim Mun-hong delivered the directive of the Royal Treasury to the commissioner for rent collection and to the local government in Hwangju. The Royal Treasury ordered the commissioner to force the Ilchinhoe agent (Kim Song-ch’il) to help the new agent (Kim Mun-hong) from the capital. But because this order opposed the Ilchinhoe’s official role in tax collection, Kim Song-ch’il refused to assist Kim Mun-hong in rent collection. Moreover, Songch’il demanded that Mun-hong accept the Ilchinhoe’s assessment of tax amounts and not reimpose the miscellaneous taxes that the Ilchinhoe had eliminated. The Ilchinhoe agent and his associates threatened Mun-hong, stating that they would “burn him on a pile of wood” if he interfered with the Ilchinhoe’s tax collection. Even after the Ilchinhoe were removed from their tax-collecting position, Kim Mun-hong was unable to force the tenants to pay their taxes. He reported that the Ilchinhoe refused to accompany the dispatched agents from the capital and showed their intention to continue their tax resistance.38 The commissioner for rent collection in Haeju also explained why he had conceded to the Ilchinhoe’s demands. He wrote that the Ilchinhoe’s protests originated from problems in the tax-collecting process and from the excessive expenses required by intermediary rent collectors. According to his report in February 1906, the Ilchinhoe refused to pay the fees for the tenant supervisors in the public lands. The tenant supervisors were accustomed to extracting several sung per sok for their fees. Tenant supervisors in the postal station lands collected 1 p’un in copper coin for every two individuals to cover their fees and other expenses for miscellaneous items, such as paper and ink. The tenants thus acquired an additional burden, as the expenses for the tenant supervisors were not included in the original rents. The commissioner for rent collection added that the Ilchinhoe wished to retain the Kabo regulation and refuse the additional taxes. He described the Ilchinhoe’s resistance in the province. In the fall of 1905, he wrote, Ilchinhoe members in 37. Ibid., 25:631. 38. Ibid., 25:632–633.

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various prefectures of the province had urged people to refuse any additional taxes, in grain or in cash. The Ilchinhoe insisted that tenants should pay only the original rents according to the fixed rate.39 The Ilchinhoe also threatened the tax officers and tenant supervisors in order to prevent them from imposing additional taxes or rents to cover their own fees. The result was that the tenant supervisors began to subtract two- or threetenths of the original fixed rent to cover their own fees and thus did not present the entire amount of collected rent. The commissioner in turn attempted to persuade the tenant supervisors to reduce the amount they subtracted from twoor three-tenths to one-twentieth of the rent. The tenant supervisors complained that they could not carry out their duties for such small fees.40 The commissioner tried to resolve this problem by recruiting agents for tax collection from among the Ilchinhoe members. He reported to the Royal Treasury in May 1906 that the Ilchinhoe had asked that tax officers be selected from their members. The highest official argued that he could not refuse this request because of the Ilchinhoe’s strength in the area. He therefore ordered the old dispatched agents to hand over their authorization documents to the Ilchinhoe agents and return to Seoul.41 The following case, reported in May 1906, illustrates that the old tenant supervisors in Sohung Prefecture also made certain “mistakes” that elevated the Ilchinhoe’s reputation among tenants. Worried about the widespread complaints of exploitative taxation, the Royal Treasury had ordered the local government to avoid excessive tax collection. Tenant supervisors mistook this directive as an authorization to abolish additional taxes. They posted a public notice that ordered tenants to submit taxes according to the fixed rate. The tenant supervisors also allowed Ilchinhoe members to assume the posts of tenant supervisors and to collect taxes. This was announced in every key post in the prefecture. The Ilchinhoe agents eliminated the additional taxes and collected only the original fixed rent (wondo). The central government did not permit this local concession and opposed any rent reduction. The local magistrate in Sohung ascribed the reduction of rent to the dispatched agents who had misunderstood the direction of the Royal Treasury and decided on their own to reduce the rent. The magistrate posted his announcement reversing the previous notice on rent reduction, stating that the tenants should complete their payment of additional tax items by the due date. The magistrate also pressed the Ilchinhoe tax agent Kim Song-ch’il to collect the taxes and immediately transfer them to another agent in charge of submitting taxes to the government.42 39. 40. 41. 42.

Ibid., 25:636. Ibid. Ibid., 25:645. Ibid., 25:645–646.

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As indicated in the aforementioned cases, the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance in Hwanghae Province focused on eliminating additional rents for the intermediary rent collectors and gained strong popular support as a result.43 In November 1905, the tax inspector of the colony lands (tungam) in Pongsan and Chaeryong reported to the commissioner for rent collection in Haeju that the Ilchinhoe had tried to permanently abolish the rent for intermediary rent collectors (chungdojo) and had convened meetings to hold public speeches about this issue. Tenants in the area eagerly responded to this agitation and eliminated the rents on their own. The tenants searched for documents confirming the rent they had previously paid and tried to burn the documents to permanently remove the official grounds for rent collection. The commissioner for rent collection in Haeju (sujogwan) had concealed the documents so he could bring them to the capital, yet he doubted that he could halt the disturbances.44 The cooperation in some areas between the commissioners of the Royal Treasury and the Ilchinhoe brought unhappy endings. The central government dismissed Pak Rae-hun, the commissioner in Hwanghae who had cooperated with the Ilchinhoe in tax collection. The newly appointed commissioner, Kim Hui-gyong, was antagonistic to the Ilchinhoe and ignored the official status that his predecessors had conceded to the organization. Citing the Ilchinhoe’s refusal to pay the water tax in Pongsan,45 the new commissioner reproached the Ilchinhoe members for their interference in government affairs. The Ilchinhoe members 43. There was a case in which intermediary agents petitioned to affiliate the surplus from the public lands with the local school. As the Ilchinhoe abolished rents for the agents and affiliated tax surpluses with their school in October 1906, Chong Son-do and Kwak Kon-ho presented to Kyongniwon their petition cosigned by local elites requesting a transfer of the rent surplus from the public lands in the area to the school under control of the local elites. Chong was the intermediary rent collector (chungdojo). The local magistrate and leaders of local associations had arranged a place in the government office for the school. The Kyongniwon refused this request, claiming that there was no expected surplus from the public lands. 44. KSTN, 25:626–627, 668. The local magistrate in Koksan reported another dispute concerning intermediary rent collectors in October 1906. Yi Ch’angson was an old tenant supervisor and collected taxes on white pine trees. Yi was originally a wealthy, local landed proprietor (t’oho). Pretending that the trees had been felled by strong winds, he cut down an excessive number of trees and sold them for his own profit. In fall 1905, the commissioner of rent collection, Pak Rae-hun, replaced Yi with Ilchinhoe member Kim Yong-man. After consulting with other Ilchinhoe members, Kim cut down forty-two dead pine trees that had been shadowing new trees and sold them to support the local school, in addition to the forty-one trees that Yi had already timbered and piled up. Yi was so angry that his son-in-law lobbied the central government on his behalf. The Kyongniwon ordered the local government to arrest the Ilchinhoe members. After the local magistrate investigated seven Ilchinhoe members, he concluded that the total number of felled trees was 190, higher than the known number. He also found that the Ilchinhoe members did not submit the taxes on the trees. The magistrate ordered the Ilchinhoe members to pay 2,000 yang. The general tone of the magistrate’s accusation, however, was sympathetic to them and their plan to use the money from the sale of the trees for the school. 45. Five Ilchinhoe members showed the director a notice from Hong Sok-cho, the chair of the Ilchinhoe branch in Pongsan. They demanded collection of one-third of the assessed land tax because it included the fees for intermediary rent collectors (chungjo).

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replied that when they had their hair cut [on joining the Ilchinhoe] they were determined “to reject such [wrong] directives in tax collection even if they were from the government.” They also said that they were not afraid of the commissioner directly reporting their refusal to the central government.46

Japanese Opposition to Ilchinhoe Involvement in Tax Administration How did Japanese officials respond to these changing relations between the Ilchinhoe, the officials of the Royal Treasury, and local governments? The Japanese military may have supported the Ilchinhoe’s tax resistance movement in its early stage, for the movement was consistent with the military’s orders to stop revenue collection by the Royal Treasury. There are records that show the Japanese military preventing officials or agents of the Royal Treasury from collecting taxes or rents. The provincial governor of Northern P’yongan reported in March 1906 that, due to the interference of the Ilchinhoe or the Japanese military police, the entire amount of rent from the postal station lands for the year 1905 barely reached several tens of thousands of yang.47 It was also reported on October 7, 1905, that the commander of the Japanese military police in Anju had demanded that the Unsan magistrate send him a list of postal station lands affiliated with the Ministry of the Royal Household (Kungnaebu). The commander wanted the list to include the locations of the lands, numbers of paddies and fields, years of good and bad harvests, and other details.48 The governor of Northern P’yongan Province also informed the Royal Treasury on December 16, 1905, of the intervention of the Japanese military. The tenant supervisor (saum) of public lands in Ch’angsong Prefecture had reported that the commander of the Japanese military police had prevented him from collecting rents from the lands. The provincial governor dispatched the local magistrate to the Japanese commander in Ch’angsong to ask him about the intervention. The Japanese commander replied that the Japanese military police battalion (honbyong taedae) in Seoul had sent directives forbidding the collection of rents from the public lands. The commander said that he would keep preventing the agents of the Royal Treasury from collecting rents because he had received no instruction from Seoul to allow the resumption of rent collection. The Sakchu

46. KSTN, 25:673. 47. Ibid., 38:247. 48. Ibid., 38:207.

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magistrate sent similar reports that the Japanese military police in Ch’angsong had interrupted the tenant supervisors while they were doing their jobs.49 This consistency between the position of the military and the Ilchinhoe tax resistance does not necessarily mean that the Japanese approved of the Ilchinhoe’s involvement in tax administration. Japanese officials in the protectorate government also sent directives to oppose and restrain the Ilchinhoe’s interference in tax collection. The Japanese financial official (chaemugwan) in the prefecture, Yamaguchi Toyomasa, sent such orders in August 1906 to the acting governor of Hwanghae Province, the Haeju magistrate Yo In-sop. Yamaguchi argued that all taxation in principle must be under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Finance in order to unify the control of national revenues. Yamaguchi reminded the governor of the Ministry of Finance directive on November 15, 1905, which stated that the provincial governors must unify the channels for tax collection under the local magistrates and put the latter in charge of presenting the collected taxes to the “national treasury” (kukko). Yamaguchi specifically pointed out cases in which, in some areas, the dispatched officials of the Royal Treasury had entrusted the Ilchinhoe with collecting iron mine taxes (ch’olgwangse), fire taxes (hawse), and so forth. He warned that these officials had violated the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Finance because the fire tax was a land tax (chise) under the control of the Ministry. Most significantly, he clarified the intention of the protectorate government to expand its control over the taxes and rents under the jurisdiction of the Korean imperial house. For this purpose, it was necessary to deny the tax-collecting rights of the dispatched officials from the Royal Treasury and to acknowledge the singular authority of the local magistrates in tax collection. Yamaguchi warned against the Ilchinhoe’s increasing role in tax collection. Although the taxes from the iron mines and postal station lands were affiliated with the Ministry of the Royal Household at the time, Yamaguchi firmly contended that only the local magistrates could implement tax collection and no other organizations could be involved in the process. He requested that the provincial governor send this directive with urgency to all the local magistrates and ban the Ilchinhoe’s involvement.50 The commissioner for rent collection in Hwanghae at the time, Pak Rae-hun, opposed this government order. It was legal, Pak said, for the officials of the Royal Treasury to carry out their duties as long as they observed the regulations of the Korean government. He complained that the Japanese directives ordered local magistrates to interrupt the tax collection of his agents, which included

49. Ibid., 38:226. The Kyongniwon replied that the instruction of the Japanese military police was inappropriate. 50. Ibid., 25:653.

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many Ilchinhoe members at that point. Since it was difficult to collect the rent after September, the time for harvest in the northern regions, Pak expected that he would be hard pressed to finish his duty on time if this Japanese interruption continued.51 Japanese opposition led the local government to reverse the tax reductions of the Ilchinhoe and to punish Ilchinhoe members if they caused trouble in tax collection. There were also areas in Hwanghae Province where the old tenant supervisors resumed their roles in the tax system. The local magistrate in Chaeryong reported in November 1906 on a petition by the tenants of the palace land in his prefecture. The petitioners wrote that the Ilchinhoe, as a “representative of the people,” understood their troubles and requested that the Royal Treasury collect only the proper amount of taxes. Furthermore, the tenants argued that the tax inspector of the land (kamgwan), Na Pyong-hui, had imposed additional rent to increase his own profit. Nevertheless, the government did not permit the Ilchinhoe to reduce the rent and demanded payment of the original amount in the fall of 1906. With the retreat of the Ilchinhoe tax collectors, the return of excessive taxation intensified the confrontation between the local government and tenants. They fought over the rent paid to intermediary rent collectors (chungdoju), which the Ilchinhoe had once abolished. In December 1906, an officer from the Royal Treasury reported that the local magistrate in Suan had tried to disrupt tax collection on the pretext of affiliating the revenue with the local school.52 The new commissioner, who had replaced an official known for his cooperation with the Ilchinhoe, was determined to stop the Ilchinhoe’s involvement in tax collection.53 When the protectorate government restrained the Ilchinhoe, the tenants in the province independently organized protests to avoid the reinstatement of rent for the intermediary agents. The leaders of the tenants organized the protests in June 1907, opening people’s assemblies and giving speeches about the problem. When the local magistrate tried to arrest the tenant leaders, they fled to the capital.54 The historian Kim Yang-sik argues that spontaneous tenant protests on public lands were widespread during the Kwangmu period of the Korean Empire. He also suggests that tenant protestors sought to remove the old tenant supervisors and implement a “voluntary submission of rents” (chawon sangnap) through the “tenant supervisors selected by the tenants” (minwon marum).55 The Ilchinhoe’s

51. Ibid., 25:658. 52. Ibid., 25:677–678. 53. Ibid., 25:709. 54. Ibid., 25:714. 55. Kim Yang-sik, “Taehan cheguk ki yoktunt’o sojak nongminch’ung ui chihyang,” Han’guk Kunhyondaesa Yon’gu 10 (June 1999), p. 185.

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tax resistance movement in Hwanghae accommodated this trend in spontaneous tenant protests and amplified this practice as a measure to establish the participation of “the people” in government administration. Ilchinhoe members in some areas streamlined the tax collection process and addressed the demands of the tenants; they reduced the tax burden, decreased corruption by middle agents, and affiliated the tax surplus with local schools. In some areas where the Ilchinhoe local branches garnered sufficient local support, they institutionalized this popular intervention and demanded, or even threatened, that government officials follow the Ilchinhoe’s tax assessment and reduction. In a few cases, the Royal Treasury commissioners even acknowledged the power of the Ilchinhoe and acquiesced to the group’s initiatives, albeit temporarily and for the sake of expediency. Japanese officials refused to accept these popular practices, however, and opposed the Ilchinhoe in their efforts to increase tenant control over tax rates and tax collection. The Japanese feared that the intervention of the Ilchinhoe would destabilize their control of tax administration and reduce revenues for Japanese rule in Korea.

Consolidating the Local Status Quo and the Traditional State-Local Networks Japanese protectorate officials unified local channels for tax collection under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Finance and restored the old networks of local elites and state officials in tax administration. The Japanese protectorate simultaneously modified the traditional networks in several respects. First, it eliminated the position of prefectural heads of local elite associations (hyangjang) and assigned their roles to junior officers (kunjusa) from the center. Needless to say, the protectorate government sent these officers into the countryside to implement its directives rather than to represent local taxpayers.56 Second, it designated the local county heads (myonjang) as the primary agents for the administration, including in the collection of taxes. Such policies upheld the local status quo and hindered Korean attempts to effect change. The historical movements for a new local order were twofold in Korea: (1) attempts by reformist elites to renovate the old local associations and (2) spontaneous popular assemblies found in some nineteenth-century rebellions. On the one hand, reformist elites tried to make the local associations (hyanghoe) include a broader spectrum of local elites, hoping that the renovated local associations would thereby develop into a broad social base for their reform. 56. Kim T’aeung, “Kaehang chonhu taehan cheguk ki ui chinbang chaejong kaehyok yon’gu” PhD diss., Seoul National University, 1997), p. 219.

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On the other hand, the underprivileged in the old regime came together in “people’s assemblies” (minhoe) or formed “peasant local directorates” during the 1894 rebellion. The Ilchinhoe absorbed much of the ideology of the reformist elites, but the group’s social roots were linked to the practice of people’s assemblies. The Korean monarch conceived of the Ilchinhoe as a continuation of these assemblies and often called the group minhoe. Japan’s modification of local institutions differed from either of these indigenous attempts to generate a new local order. The elimination of the hyangjang (the prefecture heads of local elite associations) further reduced the status of the local associations to the lowest units of state administration. The Japanese made the local heads of counties responsible for the menial labor of tax collection and other administrative tasks. Yet while Japan curtailed the roles of the local associations to “represent” local taxpayers in Korea, it retained minimal practices to allay the fears of Korean taxpayers. Before the protectorate government established direct control of the Japanese over tax collection, it first investigated the traditional practices for selecting the heads of county associations. The protectorate government defined the heads of county associations (myonjang) as government officials, yet did not send them from the central government; rather, it allowed local associations to preserve their customary rights in selecting their own officials. Thus the heads of counties were still selected or recommended through deliberations in the local associations, even after the protectorate government had redefined their official duties. Simultaneously, Japanese reliance on local associations was a direct challenge to the Ilchinhoe’s claims to “represent the people” and to the movement’s efforts to institutionalize its role in government administration. Japanese officials disapproved of the “semi-official” status of Ilchinhoe branches in some areas, which had disputed the roles of the old local elites and promoted the voice of the unprivileged. As the protectorate government entrusted tax collection to the local magistrates and the heads of local associations, the Ilchinhoe movement dwindled.57 After the treaty of July 1907, the protectorate government moved to direct rule and gave primary authority for tax collection to Japanese officials and assistant roles to the old local elites. The local county heads (myonjang) were responsible for tax collection, while the dispatched officials of the central government separately took charge of sending the collected taxes to the national treasury. The protectorate government minimized the role of local magistrates and provincial governors in this way and eventually removed their rights for tax collection and juridical administration. 57. KSTN, 25:715. In June 1907, the local magistrates followed this Japanese regulation and made the heads of counties and officials of local organs preserve the collected taxes.

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In short, the Ilchinhoe claimed to change the monarchy’s power relations in favor of the “people” but failed. The Ilchinhoe’s challenges were incompatible with Japanese intentions to expand revenue resources and maintain full control of these resources. The Japanese manipulated the Ilchinhoe tax resistance to a degree, yet reversed the movement’s major material and institutional achievements. Instead, they recognized the local status quo and refashioned the status of local elite associations as the lowest units of state administration, while further enfeebling their autonomous position in local governance. This recognition of the local establishment and maintenance of the old local networks facilitated Japan’s financial control of Korea years before its formal annexation of the country.58

The Co-optation of Ilchinhoe Leaders and the Japanese Advisor Uchida Ryohei Ito Hirobumi changed his original stance toward the Ilchinhoe as he regarded the Korean emperor Kojong as the primary source of opposition to Japan’s rule. Kojong’s confrontation with Ito was unwavering, according to the narratives of some Korean historians who have recast the Korean emperor’s political identity as the symbol of national resistance. Kojong criticized the “reforms” of the Japanese protectorate in his meetings with Ito. First, Kojong protested that Ito had made the Daiichi Bank the central bank of Korea and allowed it to control Korean national revenues, and Kojong argued that the Korean government should possess ownership of Korean banking systems and financial institutions. He maintained that Ito’s financial policies had caused a lack of flexibility in monetary circulation and the suffering of Korean merchants in their business activities. He also complained that the protectorate government was dissolving the treasury of the Korean imperial house and transferring its revenues to the control of the Ministry of Finance. Kojong opposed Japanese control of the communication and transportation systems in Korea because he considered these systems to be the country’s blood vessels and thus vital to Korea’s survival. Kojong stated that he did not want Koreans to stand passively by as the Japanese involved themselves in the development of these facilities. He also argued that Ito’s military “reform” had forced a reduction in the Korean military and undermined national defense. Kojong expected that this policy would debilitate the state to the extent 58. This old elite network, which had survived under the Japanese intervention, transmitted nationalism and led the nationwide uprisings in the March First Movement of 1919. Afterward, the colonial administration initiated drastic changes in the composition of local leaders. See Kim Ikhwan, “Ilche ha Han’guk Nongch’on Sahoe Undong kwa Chiyok Myongmangga,” Han’guk Munhwa 17 (July 1996): 283–326.

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that it would be unable to suppress bandits in local areas. Ito arrogantly responded to Kojong’s objections, stating that the monarch should not reveal his discontent with the reforms of the Japanese protectorate but remember how it was thanks to Japan that Korea had “survived” the Chinese and Russian interventions. Ito added that only Japan could someday grant Korean independence.59 Ito shifted toward a policy of more direct control in the spring of 1907 and initiated the purge of Kojong when the emperor sent secret envoys to The Hague in July of that year. Ito looked for pro-Japanese Koreans who would conspire in the abdication of the Korean monarch. Uchida Ryohei, a leader of the Black Dragon Society, advised Ito to recruit some Ilchinhoe leaders for higher government positions. Some scholars argue that Ito intended to make the faction of Yi Wan-yong represent yangban aristocrats, and the Ilchinhoe speak for lower-status groups, in this “anti-monarch coalition.”60 Yi was a “pro-Russian” official who had planned Kojong’s flight to the Russian Legation and had been the foreign minister under the “pro-Russian” government. He swiftly changed his position to pro-Japanese, signed the treaty of 1905, and collaborated with Ito’s scheme for Korea. Uchida came to Seoul in March 1906 as Ito’s adviser and waited for seven months in his residence without any official duties. During this time, he observed the political developments in Korea and selected the Ilchinhoe as his partner. He estimated that the Ilchinhoe had proved their “loyalty” to Japan through their support in the Russo-Japanese War and by their proclamation welcoming the treaty of 1905. Uchida also valued the Ilchinhoe’s organizational strength, which he considered sufficient to carry out “resolute” actions for the “ultimate stage” of Japan’s Korean policy—annexation. Uchida closely screened the Ilchinhoe’s activities as the patron of the Ilchinhoe leaders and classified non-Ilchinhoe Korean reformers as anti-Japanese. Because he regarded Koreans as fundamentally “traitorous and untrustworthy,” he advised Ito to promote factional struggles between the Ilchinhoe and Korean elite reformers so that they would check each other. Uchida opposed Ito’s gradual approach and “moderate” Japanese, such as Ogaki Takeo, the advisor of the Taehan Chaganghoe.61 Uchida patronized the Ilchinhoe and considered the group instrumental for his “radical” plan, the Japanese annexation of Korea. The so-called crisis of the Ilchinhoe in September 1906 provided favorable conditions for Ito and Uchida to recruit high-ranking Ilchinhoe leaders as

59. Nikkan Gaiko Shiryo Shusei (hereafter NKGSS), 6:24–26, 30. 60. Moriyama Shigenori, Kindai Nikkan Kankeishi Kenkyu: Chosen shokuminchika to Kokusai kankei (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1987); Han Myong-gun, “Ilche ui han’guk ch’imnyangnon kwa Han’guk Chongch’i Seryok ui Taeung,” PhD diss., Sungsil University, 2000. 61. Kuzuu Yoshihisa, ed., Nikkan Gappo Hishi (hereafter NKGH), vol. 1 (Tokyo: Kokuryukai Shuppanbu, 1930), pp. 12–14.

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Japan’s vanguard in purging Kojong. As the Ilchinhoe confronted Japanese opposition to the group’s tax resistance movement, they discontinued the popular mobilization that might have offset the growing anti-Japanese sentiment in local areas. Song P’yong-jun was responsible for the Ilchinhoe’s 1906 crisis. Song, the head of the Ilchinhoe, was arrested and charged with lèse-majesté, accused of giving sanctuary to a pro-Japanese official who had forged Kojong’s seal in order to grant concessions to Japanese businessmen.62 From beginning to end, Song had behaved as Japan’s “loyal” agent. He closely communicated with high Japanese officials and made critical shifts for aligning the Ilchinhoe’s movements with Japan’s policy changes. As noted earlier in this book, there is evidence that Song knew the direction of the Japanese financial reform in advance and tried to make Ilchinhoe members request the appointment of Japanese tax officers. He directed the drafting of the Ilchinhoe’s 1905 pro-Japanese proclamation. If ordinary members of the Ilchinhoe paradoxically came to be the “victims” of Japanese colonization, Song himself established his power and fortune at the expense of this sacrifice. Another incident more fatal to the Ilchinhoe was the Ch’ondogyo’s excommunication of Ilchinhoe leaders. Son Pyong-hui, the supreme patriarch of the Ch’ondogyo, expelled more than sixty Ilchinhoe leaders from the religion on September 17, 1906. The patriarch made this decision when Yi Yong-gu neglected Son’s order to dissolve the Ilchinhoe’s local branches. Son worried about the increasing violence against local Ilchinhoe members and shared with the elite reformers a distrust in the people’s capability for political participation. He insisted that the Ch’ondogyo believers in Ilchinhoe local branches were neither “accustomed” to managing political affairs nor “competent” in functioning as a political party in an appropriate manner. As shown in the cases from Ch’ungch’ong Province in Chapter 6, local protesters against the Ilchinhoe identified members as Ch’ondogyo believers and even sent their petitions to Ch’ondogyo headquarters to refute their Ilchinhoe opponents. Son worried that this “incompetence” of Ilchinhoe members exposed them to criticism and violence and believed that their attacks on state officials and collaboration with Japan were enough to stir up animosity among Koreans against the Ilchinhoe. Son believed that local members were acting, in part, out of their memory of brutal government persecutions in the past.63 Son ordered his followers to report first to the Ch’ondogyo if they wished to join the Ilchinhoe, and he decided to cooperate with reformist elites in the Taehan Chaganghoe. 62. Cho Hang-nae, Han’guk Sahoe Tanch’esa Non’go (Taegu: Hyongsol ch’ulp’ansa, 1972), p. 126; So Yong-hui, “Ilchinhoe ui Happang Ch’ongwon Undong,” in Han’guksa, vol. 42 (Seoul: Kuksap’onch’an Wiwonhoe, 1999), p. 385. 63. “Pon’gyo Yoksa,” in Choe Ki-yong and Pak Maeng-sin, eds., Hanmal Ch’ondogyo Charyojip (Seoul: Kukhak Charyowon, 1997), p. 277.

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This crisis in the middle of 1906 caused serious financial and political difficulties for the Ilchinhoe. A Mansebo editorial advised Yi Yong-gu to reform the Ilchinhoe and to devote his energies to its original platform. The editorial made three suggestions for reforming the Ilchinhoe: (1) downsize the whole organization, (2) either place Chinbohoe members at the center or weed out unqualified local members, and (3) maintain the Ilchinhoe organization only in the capital. “Unqualified members” referred to those who had entered the Ilchinhoe in hopes of obtaining official positions within the government.64 Yi Yong-gu and Song Pyong-jun did not accept this advice but instead turned to the Japanese for assistance. They seated Uchida Ryohei as the Ilchinhoe’s advisor on October 4, 1906.65 Uchida acted as liaison between the Japanese and Ilchinhoe leaders. He asked Ito Hirobumi to free Song Pyong-jun and to solve the Ilchinhoe’s financial problems. Ito agreed and ordered the Japanese army to release Song.66 Uchida considered Ito’s turn to the Ilchinhoe as indication that he was moving away from his gradualist policy, a view he voiced to Sugiyama Shigemaru, a member of the Black Dragon Society.67

Collapse of the Ilchinhoe and the Demonstrations of Ilchinhoe Local Members The Japanese co-optation of the Ilchinhoe leaders may have saved the Ilchinhoe from bankruptcy, but it exacerbated the organization’s internal crisis. Many ordinary Ilchinhoe members regarded their coalition with Yi Wan-yong’s cabinet as a serious departure from their original purpose, the “defense of the people from the corrupt state officials.” Hence, when Uchida Ryohei persuaded Ilchinhoe leaders to support Yi’s cabinet, they first rejected the offer, stating, “It would be better for you to order our dissolution than to make us cooperate with evil cabinet members whom all the people in the country detest.”68 Because the Ilchinhoe had antagonized high-level officials in the Korean government and portrayed them as enemies of the people, it would be difficult for 64. MCYR, p. 573. Hwang Hyon partially attributed the Ilchinhoe’s initial success to widespread rumors that Ilchinhoe membership gave easy access to government positions. He described the resulting atmosphere as follows: “People bustled to sell their paddy fields in order to donate money to the Ilchinhoe. Even men from distant and remote counties vied madly in offering money to the Ilchinhoe. Before long, their family fortunes dried up, but there were no responses and no government positions granted. Then they regretted their behavior and many of them let their hair grow again. Some of them wrote to newspapers, blaming each other.” 65. Cho Hang-nae, Han’guk Sahoe Tanch’esa Non’go, p. 127. 66. NKGH, 1:40–43. 67. Ibid., 1:198. 68. Ibid., 1:196.

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them to reverse this position and persuade their members to cooperate with the government. Conveying this sentiment to Ito Hirobumi, Uchida recommended that Ito partially accept the Ilchinhoe’s demands in order to “manage the general political circumstance more flexibly,” meaning that he should distribute some government positions to the Ilchinhoe leaders in exchange for their collaboration with “corrupt” officials.69 When Ito agreed, Ilchinhoe leaders decided to assist the Yi Wan-yong cabinet. Local Ilchinhoe members resented this decision and demonstrated at the Ilchinhoe headquarters against its leadership. Located in the countryside, local Ilchinhoe members were vulnerable to military attacks by the Righteous Armies. The armies killed Ilchinhoe members and burned their houses and property in many areas. Since the Ilchinhoe members had cut their hair, they were easily distinguished from other Koreans and targeted by the Righteous Armies. Under these circumstances, the demonstration of local Ilchinhoe members provoked concern among the Japanese. They heard widespread rumors that the Ilchinhoe were leaning toward an anti-Japanese position. Ito summoned Uchida in April 1907 to inquire about the rumors and the Ilchinhoe’s internal turmoil. Ito stated, “I met General Hasegawa last night. According to him, he rushed back to Korea because there were rumors among Japanese notables that the Ilchinhoe would resist Japan. What’s the real state of affairs?” Uchida answered that, although the rumors were unfounded, there was an important context to be considered. He mentioned that the Ilchinhoe at the time faced serious internal conflicts with which Yi Yong-gu and Song Pyong-jun had difficulty coping.70 The Ilchinhoe’s rival parties, Uchida continued, observed the conflicts and leaked false rumors. After Ito listened carefully, he decided to appoint some Ilchinhoe members to local government positions to help the Ilchinhoe establish a local base. Ito ordered Uchida to let the Ilchinhoe know about this and calm them down. Uchida met with Ito again on April 30, 1907, and transmitted the Ilchinhoe demand: “The Ilchinhoe is not in accord with the present cabinet. If it cannot acquire what its members want, it hopes to split the government in two and monopolize the local official positions.” Ito refused, stating, “It is impossible. They have to find a gradual way to consolidate their position.” Instead, he promised to take measures to relieve the Ilchinhoe’s financial crisis.71 Uchida then met Yi Yong-gu and Song Pyong-jun at Song’s residence on May 4, 1907. Yi told Uchida that they had presented the impeachment order and recommended that the cabinet resign. Then Yi asked Uchida about Ito’s thoughts on the situation.

69. Ibid., 1:198. 70. Ibid., 1:200. 71. Ibid., 1:200–201.

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Uchida replied that Ito intended to recruit some Ilchinhoe members but that it was not possible to make all the cabinet members resign. Song Pyong-jun said that he had entered into a secret agreement with Yi Wan-yong to organize a coalition government. According to Song, Ito did not trust Yi Wan-yong due to Yi’s previous career as a “pro-Russian,” even though Song had advised Ito that no one but a “villain” like Yi Wan-yong could reform the monarchy against Kojong’s will and follow the resident-general’s guidance instead. Song expected that Ito would recommend Yi Wan-yong as prime minister after the resignation of all the cabinet members. If Yi became prime minister, Song insisted, they would be able to achieve “the great task,” presumably referring to the abdication of Kojong. Uchida asked Yi and Song about the possibility that Prime Minister Pak Che-sun and then minister of the State Council (ujongbu ch’amjong taesin) Yi Wan-yong would betray their promise. Yi Yong-gu assured Uchida that if Ito were to appoint several Ilchinhoe members to the cabinet, they need not fear such betrayal. Nonetheless, Yi Yong-gu argued that they ultimately must rely on Ilchinhoe members for the task; he himself wished to remain outside government and lead the Ilchinhoe. Uchida then delivered the news that Ito would appoint Ilchinhoe members neither to the cabinet nor to a majority of local positions. He informed them, however, of Ito’s promise to solve the Ilchinhoe’s financial troubles and wrote later that this promise had pleased Yi and Song. Afterward, they discussed the anticipated difficulties that the cabinet would have in removing Kojong and then the increasing internal turmoil of the Ilchinhoe.72 Song informed Uchida about the Ilchinhoe’s internal crisis as follows: when the heads of the Ilchinhoe local branches had assembled at the religious ceremony for revering the founder of the Tonghak religion, Choe Che-u, they had revolted against the Ilchinhoe leadership. As the provincial governments harshly suppressed the Ilchinhoe, local members lost their lives or property and dispersed. The heads of Ilchinhoe local branches, the elected representatives of the local members, were so angry about the situation that they assembled at the Ilchinhoe headquarters. They attacked their central leaders and shouted that they could not see any results from the blood and money they had devoted to the Ilchinhoe cause. They protested that the current Ilchinhoe leaders had been incapable of preserving even the first principle of the Ilchinhoe’s platforms, “protect people’s lives and property.” Local members at these demonstrations doubted whether these incompetent central leaders could carry out their duties.73 Ito regarded this situation as undesirable and dangerous. On the same day that Uchida heard Song’s explanation about the turmoil, Ito ordered Uchida to 72. Ibid., 1:201–202. 73. Ibid., 1:203–205.

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meet General Hasegawa and report in detail about the Ilchinhoe’s internal situation. Uchida persuaded Hasegawa that the Ilchinhoe would be useful for Japan’s plan to annex Korea. He also told the commander that Ilchinhoe leaders were so desperate in this crisis that they would obey Japan without considering what was right or wrong. Hasegawa then agreed to preserve the Ilchinhoe and granted the group money from secret funds of the Japanese army.74 The Japanese co-opted the Ilchinhoe leaders with this money and the offer of some official positions and obtained their cooperation for dethroning Kojong. Two days later, on May 6, 1907, Ito ordered the Korean cabinet to cooperate with the Ilchinhoe and dismissed all cabinet members except Pak Che-sun and Yi Wan-yong. Pak refused to follow this arrangement and resigned as prime minister. Ito selected new cabinet members on May 26, appointing Yi Wan-yong prime minister and Song Pyong-jun minister of agriculture and commerce.75

The Criteria for Korean Officials: Pro-Japanese and Secondary Status Ito Hirobumi made a speech in front of members of the new cabinet and ordered them to adhere to an exclusively “pro-Japanese spirit” (ch’iniljuui). He told them that “the most relevant and critical principle for preserving Korea is to cooperate with Japan and firmly resolve to link your life and death with Japan.”76 After replacing the cabinet, Ito changed the provincial governors in the following year, subsequent to their criticism of his administration.77 The governor of Seoul, Chang Hon-sik, for example, had complained that Ito’s administrative changes had transferred the power of provincial governments to new institutions in which Japanese officials held an absolute majority. Kim Samuk, governor of Southern Kyongsang Province, had also told Ito that the Korean people were worried that Korea would fall into the hands of the Japanese. He pointed out the major sources of Korean suspicion: personnel recruitment in

74. Ibid., 1:204, 239–240. 75. A Japanese journalist from the Osaka Mainichi provided the profiles on Song and the Ilchinhoe and described Song as an ardent admirer of Japan. He made the following satirical remark on Song’s lifestyle: “Song, called Noda Heijiro, lives in a Japanese style house in the Japanese residential district. In his house, all maids and servants wear Japanese costumes and speak in Japanese.” He revealed his shock at this observation because he could find nothing that was not Japanese in Song’s house except for its residents, who were “pure” Koreans. 76. NKGH, vol. :265. 77. NKGSS, 6:856–880. Ito Hirobumi was suspicious of the political attitudes of Korean officials toward the Righteous Armies and Japanese rule. He claimed that the governors had not made efforts to promote “new” education and to support the Japanese military for subjugating anti-Japanese guerrillas.

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the police, tax collection by newly appointed Japanese officials, and improper actions by the Japanese military. First, the Japanese police neither understood the Korean language nor fairly disposed of legal cases in which Koreans were involved. Korean employees in the Japanese police did not understand the Japanese language because the police recruited uneducated and inexperienced people with low salaries. Thus the Japanese police were acting on incorrect information provided by Korean employees who did not speak Japanese well and often schemed in their own interests. Hence Koreans did not consider the Japanese police a protective force. Second, the transfer of tax-collecting rights to newly appointed officials was purportedly to avoid past abuses but in fact led the Korean people to have a negative attitude toward their tax obligation. The governor argued that Koreans now saw the tax as a payment to Japan, not to Korea, so they avoided their tax responsibilities. Finally, he asked Ito to discipline the Japanese troops strictly because some uneducated soldiers were committing unfair and coercive actions against the people when they passed through local areas to suppress the riots of the Righteous Armies.78 Yi Kyu-won, the governor of Kyonggi Province, also criticized the Japanese army for behaving as if there were no rules: the army seized supplies without payment and killed innocent people. Yi further condemned the arrogance of Japanese officials. He demanded that they instead be kind and guide people with patience, adding that this was the only way to appease the anger and suspicion of the Korean people. The fourteen provincial governors signed a petition about the above abuses and requesting that the new tax-collecting administration be incorporated into local governments. They argued that, in reality, the new tax administration could not but depend on the authority of local magistrates to collect taxes in local areas. The governors demanded that the protectorate government return the rights for tax collection to local magistrates and assign Japanese officials only to assist them. They argued that this would reduce administrative costs and corruption in tax collection.79 Ito dismissed six of the provincial governors who had signed this petition and replaced them with “pro-Japanese” officials, including two Ilchinhoe leaders, Ch’oe Chong-dok and Yun Kap-pyong.80 Ito also carried out a partial cabinet reshuffling, naming Song Pyong-jun the minister of home affairs. After Ito had replaced the provincial governors, he delivered a speech warning the governors about their role. In it he stated that any suspicion and emotional conflict be-

78. Ibid., 6:881–883. 79. Ibid., 6:881–883. 80. CTS, 4:741–743.

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tween Japanese and Korean officials would be the responsibility of the provincial governors. Ito criticized the former governors for having merely transmitted the people’s complaints about tax collection and the arrogance of Japanese officials, rather than reproaching the people for holding such views. Ito admonished the new governors that they must not make similar mistakes again. He concluded his speech as follows: If you [provincial governors] wish, the essential points of my address will be written down and distributed afterward. In the future, you must appreciate and observe what I instruct and keep it inviolate. The Japanese-Korean relationship is critical indeed. If provincial governors do not honor it, their liability will be considerable. You must remember these fully. . . . The officials called provincial governors cannot be allowed simply to absorb themselves with people’s complaints and discontents. Accordingly, if any of you hold anti-Japanese sentiments or plan to voice them, you should submit your resignation before you do so. As the resident-general, this is my special advice for you.81 Ito thus transformed the central government in Korea, creating a colonial power relation between Japanese and Korean officials. Korean officials were obliged to prove their pro-Japanese loyalty and “resolve to link their life and death to Japan.”82 Yet they were not equally eligible for higher positions reserved for the Japanese. The provincial governors and local magistrates lost their former jurisdictions. Afterward, the status of Korean officials in the colonial administration thus resembled the status of secondary elites in the old Korean bureaucracy, who had been deemed ineligible to take the civil service examinations and thus to be considered for the prestigious positions of civil officials. When Ito’s administration co-opted high-level Ilchinhoe leaders, it indeed turned the Ilchinhoe movement into “an instrument for Japanese designs.”

Sunjong’s Imperial Procession: The Japanese Reconciliation with the Old Elites As Ito purged Kojong and rapidly consolidated the colonial administration, the utility of the Ilchinhoe evaporated. Ito had decided not to overthrow the traditional local order but to link it to the new Japanese administration. He made 81. NKGSS, 6:928–929. 82. NKGH, 1:265.

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many conciliatory gestures toward local elites during the final stage of his rule. He temporarily returned to provincial governors the right to recruit officials from local elites, except for those positions reserved for the Japanese. This policy did not, of course, affect the core positions in the colonial administration, but it had the effect of appeasing, for the time being, the old local elites as well as the provincial governors who had lost real power and prestige in local society. The Korean reformist elites, however, regarded this policy as a retreat from reform, anticipating that it would fill the government with unqualified old local elites who lacked a modern education. Yi Chong-il, the Taehan Hyohoe member and Ch’ondogyo believer, considered this policy a deviation from the progress made in the legal system and from the promotion of new education after the Kabo Reform. Yi wrote that it was nonsensical for provincial governors to appoint local officials from among the provincial elites, who had not received a modern education higher than the elementary school level and had no serious ideas for the destiny of their country. Yi concluded that corrupt local elites would take advantage of this policy to fulfill their long-held desires for prestigious government positions.83 The finale to Ito’s conciliatory efforts was the imperial procession of Sunjong, the last monarch of the Choson dynasty. Ito devoted much energy to this procession and cast himself as the “benign and strong patron” of the frail Korean emperor.84 One of Ito’s primary concerns in this procession was to recover local stability. During the procession, he made many public speeches, which advocated cooperation between the Japanese and Koreans, asked Koreans to bring stability to local conflict, and gave warning to those anti-Japanese Koreans who were suspicious of Japan’s “genuine benevolence.”85 In Taegu, Ito stressed that the Korean emperor hoped for a good relationship between the Japanese and Koreans and for the maintenance of local peace. Ito argued that the emperor worried about unsettled local situations and wanted Koreans to return to their original occupations on behalf of the emperor, urging Koreans that they should keep peace and order and aim for progress in industry, education, and production. In Pusan, he made a long speech about the necessity of Japanese-Korean friendship for the peace in the East and again turned to the issue of local stability. He promised to adjudicate local conflicts fairly and to consider seriously the interests of local actors.86 Designating his audience as the

83. Yi Chong-il, “Kakkwanch’al e taehan Kwannyom,” Taehanhyophoe Hoebo, no. 4. 84. This frailty contrasted with the procession of Emperor Meiji, manifesting the splendor of modern Japan and the birth of the Japanese nation. Takashi Fujitani, Splendid Monarchy: Power and Pageantry in Modern Japan (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996). 85. Tongambu Munso, 9:220. 86. Ibid., 9:270.

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“advanced in local society and high officials,” he asked them to spread his most important messages to Koreans: the “benevolence” of Japan, the “sincerity” of its assistance to Koreans, and his own promise of “fair regulation” of local conflicts.87 The Japanese police carefully monitored the local atmosphere after the procession. Their reports reveal that Ito made many efforts to attract yangban aristocrats to the procession and to appease the old local elites. He had a personal meeting with Confucian scholars in T’aejon (probably the old name of Taejon), Ch’ungch’ong Province. In Chongju, P’yongan Province, the police ordered the heads of local county associations to mobilize the elderly for an audience with the emperor.88 This focus on the local elites appeared to be effective. The Japanese police estimated that the effects of the procession were most positive among yangban aristocrats and Koreans above the middle class and negligible among lower-class Koreans. In the procession, Japanese officials endeavored to “correct” the misunderstandings or rumors among yangban literati concerning Japan’s intentions. In Northern Ch’ungch’ong Province, according to one police report, some “bigoted” yangban literati thought that Japan had held the procession as a prelude to sending the Korean emperor to Japan. They felt very unhappy and refused to watch the procession; as a result, local magistrates and police officers were sent to the literati to explain the purpose of the procession. The literati then decided to observe the return of the procession to the capital in order to determine whether the words of the Japanese and Korean officials were indeed true. The yangban literati in Southern Ch’ungch’ong Province were exposed to similar rumors that the procession was intended to abduct the Korean emperor and take him to Japan. But after the yangban heard that the emperor had granted an audience to the elderly, the police reported, they lost their apprehension. Compared with this transformed attitude among aristocrats, the police noted, there was no significant response among lower-class people (hach’ungmin) in the province. Rumors about the abduction of the emperor also appeared, with some variations, in P’yongan Province. In Southern P’yongan, the Japanese police wrote, the residents of the province were delighted, comparing the imperial procession to the secret journeys of the Choson monarchs to observe the lives of their subjects and expecting that the procession would represent the occasion of great progress toward civilization. Some, however, criticized the procession for its enormous expense. Rumors circulated claiming that Japanese officials had planned to spend 160,000 yen on the procession and had misappropriated the 87. Ibid., 9:272. 88. Ibid., 9:347.

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money. Others said that Ito, Yi Wan-yong, and Song Pyong-jun had arranged the procession as a scheme of embezzlement. The police described the complex social atmosphere in P’yongan Province during the procession. On the one hand, some residents of the province possessed strong anti-Japanese sentiments and showed unfavorable attitudes toward current Japanese-Korean relations. On the other hand, because the people had seen the strength of the Japanese army demonstrated in the Sino-Japanese War and the Russo-Japanese War, they did not engage in any disturbances. While middle-class Koreans (chungnyu) in the province understood the purpose of the procession, the police wrote, lower-class Koreans suspected that the Korean emperor was “escaping from riots in the capital.” Some also believed the rumor that the real purpose of the procession was to push people to cut their hair. Police reports include many records showing that the Japanese officials in P’yongan Province also focused on persuading local aristocrats. They assembled the “stubborn” literati and others in the governor’s hall and had the provincial governor and a high Korean official, the director of the public construction bureau (t’omok kukchang), explain the purpose of the procession.89 Some of the “bigoted” literati questioned why the Korean emperor did not follow the precedent of Ch’olchong and his secret journey if he truly wished to observe the people’s troubles. They thought that journeys for such a purpose should be quiet and modest, like those of the Choson monarchs, and criticized the large entourage of the procession for draining national revenues. In the estimation of the police, however, the procession raised spirits in Chongju. The effect was similar, although less dramatic, in Sonch’on.90 Japanese officials listed the names and positions of those who were granted an audience with the emperor. They were mostly high-level, incumbent Japanese and Korean officials and former Korean officials in the higher ranks, along with several representatives of Japanese and Korean organizations. Twenty-five officials had an audience with the emperor in Uiju on January 29, 1909, and those who received an audience in Sinuiju on January 30 included seventy-eight high officials (chinsin), eighteen local literati, and 1,948 local elders (puro). On January 31, the emperor met at the Sonch’on station with the Sonch’on magistrate and eighteen high officials standing outside the train. In the waiting room at Chongju station, he met with the Chongju magistrate and thirty-two high officials, including the former local magistrate. At the station in Sin Anju, the emperor met nine high officials, including a former third-rank official (chong samp’um), and two Japanese, including the head of the Japanese association in 89. Ibid., 9:326–327. 90. Ibid., 9:334–335, 345.

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Anju.91 He met in P’yongyang with high Japanese and Korean officials, former Korean officials in the high ranks, and representatives of various institutions in P’yongyang. In Kaesong, the emperor received an audience of six Korean officials in the second rank of the second degree (chong yi p’um) and twenty-five Korean officials in the third rank of the first degree (chong sam p’um). Yun Ch’i-ho and Yu Kil-jun had an audience with the emperor in Kaesong.92 While Japanese officials mobilized students, various Korean and Japanese associations, and several women’s organizations for the procession, they also made special efforts to assuage the local elites and change their attitude toward Japanese rule. Japanese officials actively responded to negative rumors among the conservative elites and organized meetings during the procession to persuade them to think positively of the Japanese rule. Imperial audiences were almost exclusively given to the traditional elites, yangban literati, and former high officials, as well as to incumbent Japanese and Korean officials. Although the Japanese police recognized the anti-Japanese atmosphere among the reformist elites and Christians in P’yongan Province, the police report estimated that the procession evoked a jubilant response among the traditional elites despite their criticism of its excessive expense. The Ilchinhoe’s presence as well as the response of lower-class Koreans were noted as insignificant. During the procession, Ito delivered a clear message to the old local elites that he preferred order and stability to radical power shifts in local society. He stated in public that he would “fairly regulate” local conflicts involving private gain and loss. In short, for the stability of the Japanese rule in Korea, he preferred a compromise with the local status quo to its subversion in local society, as had been the case with the Ilchinhoe’s mobilization. Instead, Ito forced the Ilchinhoe to assist the Yi Wan-yong cabinet, which compromised the Ilchinhoe’s identity established during the group’s tax resistance movement and aggravated its internal turmoil. Resentful local Ilchinhoe members revolted against their leaders in the capital. Uchida and Ito ordered Ilchinhoe leaders to stop local Ilchinhoe members when they organized a demonstration against the Yi Wan-yong cabinet. In the final period of the Ilchinhoe, its leaders, under the control of Uchida, Song, and Yi, organized a movement petitioning the Japanese government to annex Korea (happang ch’ongwon undong). The first governor-general, Terauchi Masatake, dissolved the Ilchinhoe on September 26, 1910, a month after Japan annexed Korea, since the group could be a security concern to the colony.

91. Ibid., 9:375. 92. Ibid., 9:383.

CONCLUSION

Kim Myong-jun, once an Ilchinhoe member, said at one of Taehan Hyophoe’s assemblies that “the civilization of our generation is not other than that the rights of the people are consolidated, their freedoms are articulated in law, and they live life in comfort. The people in Korea do not have the freedom—even if they wish—to engage in civilized conduct in this civilized era. . . . Without freedom and the rights of the people, we cannot call it a ‘normal state’ [konjon kukka].” Kim argued that the rights of the government are given only to such a “normal” or “healthy” state, which guarantees the “naturally endowed and heaven-granted” rights of the people, including freedom of the press, conduct, residence, and property.1 In March 1909, on the eve of the annexation, the Korea Daily News penned “A Call for Popular Rights” suggesting the idea of social contract and demanding the “recovery” of the “people’s state, government, and law.”2 In this ideological transition of Korea toward popular sovereignty, the Ilchinhoe members played an indispensable role, even if they made only a populist burst without elegantly articulating the ideas of democracy and their practice. An eminent political theorist of democracy once wrote, “Like fire, or painting or writing, democracy seems to have been invented more than once, and in more than one place. After all, if the conditions were favorable for the invention of democracy at one time and place, might not similar favorable conditions have

1. IG, April 18, 1908, p. 1. 2. KD, March 17, 1909, p. 1. 280

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existed elsewhere?”3 Nineteenth-century Korea has not been imagined as a time and place in which some people desired democracy or attempted to put it into practice. Thus the well-recognized democratic orientation in the March First Movement of 1919 has often appeared abrupt or alien in the history of modern Korea.4 This book discloses the astonishing fact that the Ilchinhoe group— which has historically been seen as a traitorous pro-Japanese organization, pure and simple—left statements filled with ideas of freedom and acted on the claim of redefining the monarchy’s power in favor of a popular sovereignty. The words and actions of the Ilchinhoe members were crude, yet it is undeniable that they testified to an ideological shift of the Korean populace away from the old regime and toward greater political participation. This means that the Ilchinhoe movement marked an unfortunate yet significant chapter in the introduction, if not invention, of democracy to ordinary Koreans. The Ilchinhoe mobilized the people to voice their “real” problems, such as taxes and the protection of property and life from government interference or violence. The Ilchinhoe movement questioned traditional relationships between government officials and the people and challenged the established local elite structure. The aristocrat Ku Wan-hui grumbled that the Ilchinhoe made the people “feel free to behave as they pleased” ( jayu haengdong). In contrast, Ilchinhoe member Chong Chi-hong and other tenants celebrated the arrival of the “reformist era” and declared that if their freedom and property and naturally endowed rights (chayu chaesan kwa ch’onbu kwolli) were violated, they were no different from the dead, even though they were living. These words of the Ilchinhoe members at the moment of their actions correspond to the circulation of democratic ideas that had preceded, and advanced with, the group’s uprisings. They also unveil the fact that the Ilchinhoe movement had deep indigenous roots. Some popular movements in the northwestern provinces between 1896 and 1904 had demonstrated the anti-monarch or transnational orientations found in the subsequent Ilchinhoe movement. This book has also argued that the Ilchinhoe had strong ideological, political, and organizational connections with the Independence Club Movement and publicly claimed to be its “legitimate heir.” Contemporaneous Koreans acknowledged this continuity in the Ilchinhoe’s popular assemblies and its pro-Japanese inclinations.5 The Ilchinhoe’s earlier public announcements reveal this ideological influence of the Independence Club. The group’s 1904 manifesto repeated the logic 3. Robert A. Dahl, On Democracy (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000), p. 9. 4. Dae-yol Ku, Korean under Colonialism: The March First Movement and Anglo-Japanese Relations (Seoul: Published for the Royal Asiatic Society Korea Branch by Seoul Computer Press, 1985). 5. Cho Chae-gon, “Taehan Cheguk Malgi Pobusang Tanch’e ui Tonghyang,” Pukak Saron 5 (August 1998): 117–156.

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of some Independent articles on democracy and the government. This manifesto identifies the people as an essential component in the constitution of a state and asserts that they possess the rights and duties to advise the government and to participate, “indirectly,” in legislation. The manifesto also declares the necessity of the people’s democratic rights, such as freedom of speech, press, and assembly, and the principal importance of the national assembly for a good government. It calls the people to join the “society” or association of the Ilchinhoe to fulfill their political roles and to protect their lives, property, and interests. These earlier statements, however, did not determine the entire trajectory of the Ilchinhoe movement. Even though the Ilchinhoe disrupted government administration with various oppositional memorials, petitions, and protests, the group did not vehemently elevate the people’s protests into a movement for forming a democratic government. Instead, the Ilchinhoe softened democratic visions that the Independence Movement had advocated and demanded only that the government implement their four-point platform: the protection of the people’s lives and property, the preservation of Korea’s independence and its imperial house, and the financial and military reform of the Korean government. This platform was ambiguous and complicit with Japan’s policy called “improvement of governance,” which aimed to control Korean finance and to dissolve the Korean monarch’s financial and military power bases. In one exceptional case, the Ilchinhoe presented their reform proposal to the cabinet after the Hague Incident in 1907 and explicitly demanded the enactment of a constitution and the construction of a national assembly. Yet this radical proposal did not find any meaningful place in Japan’s following actions, which turned the protectorate of Korea into “de facto annexation.” The Ilchinhoe’s movement exposed many contradictions between its initial objectives and its overall political performance and also between its formal statements and the actions of its members. The Ilchinhoe’s rhetoric supported the maintenance of Korea’s “independence” and the preservation of the Korean imperial house, yet in its actions it mobilized popular resistance against the Korean monarchy. Constantly expressing its distrust of government officials, the Ilchinhoe publicized the scandals of their “corrupt” and “immoral” conduct and disapproved of the appointment of the government officials who had records of “embezzling” state revenues or “murdering” innocent people. In the midst of confronting the Korean emperor’s persecution of the popular assemblies, the Ilchinhoe called the Korean government a “tyranny” and pleaded with the people to consider its officials, who were murdering Ilchinhoe members, as a “species outside the nation.” The Ilchinhoe also spread such antagonism against the Korean government among the Korean people when leading massive tax resistance movements.

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The Ilchinhoe’s merger with the converted Tonghaks gave the organization a strong rural base and enabled it to mount a major popular intervention in the government tax administration. The Ilchinhoe and their supporters disobeyed government officials, challenged the officials’ authority, and critically undermined the power of the Korean monarchy. Ilchinhoe protestors expelled the tax-collecting officials of the government, refused the old agents of the Royal Treasury, and went so far as to close the government offices for tax collection during their struggle to eliminate miscellaneous taxes. Ilchinhoe tenants on the public lands collectively assessed the rent rates, removed excessive additional rents for intermediary rent collectors, and intimidated government agents into obeying the Ilchinhoe’s decisions on tax collection. The Ilchinhoe replaced the majority of the old tenant supervisors of the public lands with their own members. These actions corresponded to the demands of the voluntary tenant protestors in the post-Kabo period—namely, the removal of the old tenant supervisors and the “voluntary submission of rents” (chawon sangnap) through “tenant supervisors selected by the tenants” (minwon marum).6 By endorsing the legitimacy of such resistance, the Ilchinhoe at the peak of its movement paralyzed the government administration and tried to institutionalize the group’s official roles in the assessment and collection of taxes. Ilchinhoe members also sought an immediate organizational influence on local government administration as a means to enhance the people’s political participation. Like the local directorates of the 1894 Tonghak rebels, these direct interactions with the government may have been a more familiar or feasible way for Koreans to exercise the “will of the people” than fighting for the “abstract” ideal of constructing a national assembly. Ilchinhoe members were not rebels. They did not intend to overthrow the government with military means but wanted instead to reinstate the reformist policies of the Kabo cabinet or emulate the political experiments of the Independence Club, including its open popular assemblies and its vision for a constitutional monarchy. In this sense, the Ilchinhoe movement represented to a degree a social and political reaction to the emperor Kojong’s monarch-centered reforms. The temporary emergence of a “local alliance” among local magistrates, the heads of local elite associations, and Ilchinhoe protestors indicates that the Korean emperor’s reforms weakened the traditional administrative networks of his government yet failed to generate an alternative frame of governance broadening his support base. When the monarch dispatched agents of the Royal Treasury directly to local areas, he trampled on the interests of the key actors in the 6. Kim Yangsik, “Taehan cheguk, ilche ha yoktunt’o yon’gu,” PhD diss., Tan’guk University, 1992, p. 185.

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old networks: officials of local elite associations, local magistrates, and provincial governors. Only when Japanese officials curtailed the power of the Royal Treasury did some of its commissioners recognize the Ilchinhoe’s local power and delegate to its members some official duties for tax collection. Yet this attempt at rapprochement came too late. Emperor Kojong’s reforms might have survived had he reconciled himself to the popular assemblies much earlier and included them as the monarch’s new support base. This book has argued that the Ilchinhoe movement had a populist character. Although tenant protests and tax resistance occurred throughout nineteenthcentury Korea, the Ilchinhoe’s leadership was novel because it claimed the people’s rights to address their material grievances, justified their collective intervention in the government administration with the new rhetoric of reform, and advanced the idea of the people’s “duty” to engage in greater political participation. In the Ilchinhoe’s populism, its main adversaries were neither the yangban aristocracy in general nor the landlord class. Rather, the Ilchinhoe juxtaposed the people’s rights against the officials of a “tyrannical government.” Designating the people’s freedom and political roles as a precondition for preserving the state, the Ilchinhoe criticized Korean government officials as the people’s “predators” and posed its own members as their “delegates.” This populist character differentiated the Ilchinhoe’s politics from those of the Korean elite reformers, who had distanced themselves from the ordinary people and had presumed the latter’s ignorance and unpreparedness for more democratic rule. This populist perception of Korean reform meant that the Ilchinhoe members were relatively indifferent toward the sovereignty of the Korean state. The Ilchinhoe’s public announcements reiterated words like “independence” and “patriotism” and recognized the boundaries between Korea and other nations.7 Nevertheless, they did not consider these boundaries to be “limited and sovereign.” The 1905 Ilchinhoe proclamation enunciated the group’s logic of collaboration, namely, “independence through dependence.” According to this logic, the formal “independence” of Korea was “nominal,” whereas good government and the people’s “welfare” were “substantial.” This logic defended a withdrawal of Korea’s exclusive sovereignty for the sake of its domestic “reforms.” Taking this logic to an extreme, the Ilchinhoe’s 1909 petitions for Japan’s annexation of Korea agreed to sacrifice the formal sovereignty of the Korean state if it meant that the Korean people would attain “equal” status as citizens with the Japanese under the rubric of Japanese empire, which the 1909 petitions claimed to form “a greater political union of Japan and Korea.” If “nationalism” refers to a modern

7. Mansebo, September 6, 1906, p. 2.

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political ideology that prioritizes the nation-state and its sovereignty, it would be erroneous to call the Ilchinhoe nationalists. The Ilchinhoe came up with this idiosyncratic combination of populism and collaboration as a result of a preoccupation with the domestic confrontation and its flexible interpretation—or “misunderstanding”—of modern sovereignty. The Ilchinhoe deemed Japan a “civilizing” and “reformist” empire and anticipated Japan’s support to create favorable conditions for the group’s own reform projects. In this sense, Ilchinhoe members were “activist” or “reformist” collaborators. Preexisting political divides within the periphery can cause collaboration with empires, and these local rivalries are not necessarily defined by traditional terms but can also be prompted by more universal ideas. What makes the Ilchinhoe a case of collaboration is the fact that the Ilchinhoe’s initial objectives did not determine the entire trajectory of its movement. The Ilchinhoe’s choice to pursue its reforms via collaboration with foreign assistance was not viable in the context of emerging Japanese colonial rule in Korea. After their short and spectacular success, Ilchinhoe members struggled to resolve the conflicts between their original objectives and their subordination to the Japanese and quickly fell into a trap between Japan’s constraints and the moral accusations of their fellow Koreans. The Ilchinhoe populists also had their own drawbacks. They were so shortsighted and inexperienced that they held onto the narrower interests of their adherents and did not establish new norms and protocols of conduct for persuading the broader members of local society. The Japanese protectorate ultimately frustrated the Ilchinhoe group and nullified its accomplishments in the tax resistance movement. Japanese officials asserted their “exclusive authority” in “reforming” Korea and thus denied the Ilchinhoe any official role in tax administration. Instead, the Japanese protectorate after 1907 acknowledged the traditional local elites and their networks, fearing that the Ilchinhoe’s popular mobilization would endanger the stability of Japanese domination in Korea. Ito Hirobumi, the mastermind of Japanese rule in Korea, chose to appease the local elites and aristocrats rather than endorse the Ilchinhoe’s “subversion.” This tension between the Ilchinhoe and Japanese officials elucidates the critical discrepancy between the agendas of the Korean reformist movements and the Japanese objectives in Korea. While the former were disposed to constrain the power of the state, the latter wished to augment it. If the Ilchinhoe had withdrawn their pro-Japanese commitment and persisted in their struggles despite such Japanese interference, their populism might have evolved in a revolutionary direction, with greater trials for the Ilchinhoe leadership. But Yi Yong-gu and Song Pyong-jun took the easy road and enjoyed power in exchange for subservience to the Japanese. The Ilchinhoe discontinued the tax resistance movement and focused on organizational survival and the narrow,

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short-term interests of members. Ito co-opted the Ilchinhoe leaders into the coalition for deposing Kojong and in return appointed some of them to official positions. It is paradoxical that the Ilchinhoe collaborated with the Japanese in opposing the Korean monarchy only to find themselves in bed with a colonial regime that was in favor of acknowledging the local status quo. It is also an irony that the commissioners of the Royal Treasury attempted to reconcile with the local Ilchinhoe branches only when the collapse of the Korean monarchy was irreversible. Emperor Kojong may have hoped to “modernize” his monarchy but would have done better to renovate his relations with his subjects and accommodate their strong participatory desires, expressed in numerous popular assemblies. Unfortunately, he possessed neither the vision nor the courage to relinquish power to the people. It is also questionable whether Ito’s compromise with the old local elites really brought about what he hoped for as resident-general: local peace and stability. Japan was in fact forced to rely on military rule after the annexation in 1910 and confronted nationwide demonstrations for Korean independence only a decade later. Ito’s recognition of the local status quo did not preclude a spark of nationalism and its rapid surge among Koreans. Finally, the Ilchinhoe’s movement has broader historical implications for understanding local collaboration with the Japanese empire in East Asia. The Ilchinhoe movement was in its roots one of the “transnational,” “redemptive societies” of East Asia that thrived in the early twentieth century and that was concerned with preserving the cultural “essence” of East Asia.8 Prasenjit Duara illuminates the tension between these transnational societies and the Chinese nation-state and also examines their agency in Japan’s domination of Manchuria. At least at the level of discourse, according to Duara, Japan created Manchukuo (1932–1945) as a “nation-state” and claimed sovereignty for it by constructing a “cultural authenticity” for Manchuria that involved the interests of those “redemptive societies.” He finds in this Japanese discursive strategy a pattern for how the nation-states in East Asia legitimized their territorial sovereignty prior to the establishment of “civic rights” within a given territory and “contained” transnational forces unsuitable to the “purposes” of those states.9 The Ilchinhoe movement contests this theoretical framework because the group’s transnational disposition coalesced with its actions to redistribute domestic power. In other words, the Ilchinhoe were concerned with a more democratic reconfiguration of internal sovereignty and tested whether the Japanese empire could ac8. Prasenjit Duara, “Transnationalism and the Predicament of Sovereignty: China, 1900–1945,” American Historical Review 102, no. 4 (October 1997): 1030–1051. 9. Ibid., p. 1032. See also Prasenjit Duara, Sovereignty and Authenticity: Manchukuo and the East Asian Modern (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003).

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commodate this reconfiguration. The Japanese empire ultimately displaced this pursuit of “civic rights,” even though Ilchinhoe members were willing to sacrifice the sovereignty of the Korean state. Japan repeated this pattern of expansion, alliance with local elites, and canceling out of grassroots organizations when it occupied China in the 1930s. Timothy Brook and Rana Mitter point out that Japan accommodated the preexisting local elite networks in both Manchuria and the Yangtze Delta. Mitter characterizes the local elites of Manchuria as power brokers who established their status within the tradition of military self-defense and local autonomy, in order to survive the region’s widespread banditry and legal precariousness.10 These local elites approached nationalism for practical reasons and prioritized maintenance of the status quo in their areas of influence. The Japanese Kwangtung Army persuaded these local elites to join their committees for daily administrative tasks, taxation, and maintenance of the public order.11 This local acquiescence to the occupation resulted in the Japanese being less involved in local matters, so that, paradoxically, their ideology of the Manchurian state (namely, a Manchurian nationalism) failed to penetrate the minds of the local population.12 Mitter’s research confirms Ronald Robinson’s theory of collaboration, in that the Manchurian local elites enjoyed a space for bargaining with the Japanese, and central control of the Manchurian state was in practice “subordinated to devolution.”13 Brook suggests a slightly different position analyzing the central areas of China under the Japanese. Chinese collaboration there also began within a “sphere of complicity” for resolving mundane tasks for living, such as maintaining food supplies, local security, and the flow of business.14 In comparison to Mitter, Brook pays more attention to the conundrum of collaborators in the context of the occupation state, which he defines as “a political regime installed to administer occupied territory in the interests of the occupying power.”15 In this occupation state, control overrode mutual bargaining, although the state was continuously entangled with intricate local networks and rivalries and thus vulnerable to being “undercut from below.”16 Brook spells out the political instability of the occupation state, which demanded recognition of its legitimacy but

10. Rana Mitter, The Manchurian Myth: Nationalism, Resistance, and Collaboration in Modern China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), pp. 61–64. 11. Ibid., pp. 101–103. 12. Ibid., pp. 93–94. 13. Ibid., p. 70. 14. Timothy Brook, Collaboration: Japanese Agents and Local Elites in Wartime China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), p. 7. 15. Ibid., p. 12. 16. Ibid., pp. 194–195.

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had little “means” to convince the local population of such a claim.17 Unless the occupation regime dismantled the distinction of political entitlements between the occupiers and the occupied, it could craft only an “appearance of legitimacy” that in fact remained based on military power. In this context, as Brook concludes, collaborators confront “the challenge of bridging this unbridgeable gap” between a regime’s polarized hierarchy and its claims that the occupation exists for the local people.18 This book does not cover how the local elite structures in Korea changed over time after the Japanese annexation or whether Korean elites had enough space for preserving their authority among Koreans. In hindsight, the local elites in collaboration with the Japanese suffered from their loss of legitimacy and struggled to justify their subordination to the Japanese, especially after Japan’s colonial rule in the 1930s and 1940s eliminated space for cultural nationalists. This damaged elite authority was fundamental in shaping the political landscape in Korea after colonialism.19 The Ilchinhoe’s pursuit of popular sovereignty was idiosyncratic because it was associated less with the vision of a nation-state than with the image of a “reformist empire.” The Ilchinhoe acted on a populist binary between “tyranny” and “the people.” When this binary became irrelevant to the context of the emerging Japanese empire in Korea, Ilchinhoe members lost room to reconcile their own political objectives with their compliance to the Japanese. After the Korea-Japan Treaty in 1907, Ilchinhoe members were squeezed between Japan’s objection to the popular mobilization, the anti-Ilchinhoe assaults of the Righteous Armies,20 and the rise of the Korean ethnic nationalism, which articulated a new frontier against Japan for the “freedom” of the “Korean” people. Ilchinhoe members may have anticipated an “imaginary” empire that could accommodate the “people’s freedom” and their greater participation in politics.21 The Ilchinhoe movement did not fit its time, thereby illuminating a political limit of empire in an era of democracy or irrelevance of freedom in the rise of imperialism.

17. Ibid., p. 49. 18. Ibid., p. 223. 19. On collaboration and its impacts on post-colonial Korea, see Bruce Cumings, The Origins of the Korean War: Liberation and the Emergence of Separate Regimes, vol. 1 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1981), especially pp. 135–178. 20. On the Righteous Armies’ attacks on the Ilchinhoe, see Kyongmuguk, P’okto e kwan’han p’yonch’aek, 1907–1909, from Kukka Pohunch’o Konghun Chonja Saryogwan, accessed through http://e-gonghun.mpva.go.kr. 21. Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001), p. 13.

Index

Note: Page numbers in italics indicate illustrations; those with a t indicate tables. accommodation, 5–6, 7n21, 19 additional rents, 180–90, 209, 213, 217, 255, 261, 264, 283. See also kado Allen, Horace N., 52, 59 Amur River Society, 73n84 An Ch’i-gyom, 64 An Chung-gun, 46, 50, 53–55, 79–80 An Hong-ik, 91 An Ik-hyon, 207 An Si-ik, 217 An T’ae-gon, 53–57 An T’ae-hun, 53, 55 An Yong-gwan, 211–12, 216 annexation, 3, 10–13, 46–47, 147–50, 241–79, 287–88; de facto, 144–47, 241, 282; financial policies during, 250–53. See also protectorate, Korea as Anti-Russian National League, 73n84 Australia, 65–66 Austro-Hungarian Empire, 149–50 Bayly, C. A., 6n20 Bethell, Ernest T., 18, 95 Black Dragon Society, 10, 245, 268, 270 Book of Changes, 151 Book of Songs, 235 Boxer Rebellion, 69 Brook, Timothy, 4, 6, 287–88 Buddhism, 98, 147 Burrin, Philippe, 5–6 calendars, 146 Canovan, Margaret, 16 Catholics. See Christians centralization of the Choson state, 24–25, 29–30 Ch’a Chi-bom, 212 Ch’a Pyong-hong, 253–54 Chandra, Vipan, 163–64 Chang Che-yong, 221, 226 Chang Chi-yon, 79 Chang Hon-sik, 273 Chang Won-il, 117–19

Chang Yon-gyu, 214–16 chawidae wonhodan (voluntary guard aides), 243, 247 chawidan wonhohoe (voluntary guard aides), 3 chayu haengdong (freedom of action), 122n9, 155 Chi Kwan-je, 186 children, abandoned, 28–29 China, 41; bandits from, 67–69, 70t; Ilchinhoe views of, 140n69; Korean conflicts with, 71–72; Korean trade with, 64–66, 67–68, 175–76; Opium War and, 35; Pan-Asianism of, 47, 67; pro-Japanese collaborators in, 3–4, 6; during Russo-Japanese War, 85–86; during Tonghak Rebellion, 36. See also Manchuria Chinbohoe (Progressive Society), 17, 173, 198; Chungniphoe and, 97; haircutting practices of, 89–92; Ilchinhoe and, 82, 92, 106, 124, 126, 270; Japanese support of, 92; Kojong’s repression of, 104–6, 201; membership of, 18; spies among, 200; Tonghaks and, 91 ch’inil, 1n2, 8, 12n39, 196n3, 273 Chinju Rebellion (1862), 31–32 chipkangso, 35–37. See also local directorates chipkwonhwa, 24 Cho Chong-yun, 172–82, 186–87, 195, 209, 212, 255 Cho Hang-nae, 124, 163n3 Cho Hui-mun, 77 Cho Hui-yon, 77 Cho Kyong-dok, 225–27 Cho Min-hui, 61 Cho Pyong-gil, 57 Cho Yong-song, 212 Ch’oe Che-u, 35, 272 Ch’oe Chong-dok, 274 Ch’oe Ki-yong, 78 Ch’oe Si-hyong, 35, 39 Ch’oe Un-sop, 113 Ch’oe Won-sok, 53, 54 Ch’olchong, King of Korea, 32, 278 Chon Pong-jun, 37–39, 75, 88–89 Chon Pyong-gwan, 213

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INDEX

Chon Song-hwan, 117–19 Chon Tae-yun, 121–22 Chong Chi-hong, 203–4, 281 Chong Mun-ha, 213, 218 Chong Su-in, 179 ch’ongdae system, 40–41 Ch’ongdogyo (Religion of the Heavenly Way), 124, 125, 129, 132–33, 164n10, 269, 276 Chongjo, King of Korea, 12, 25, 30 Chonju Peace Agreement (1894), 36–37 Choson dynasty, 12, 22, 71, 277, 278; administration of, 27–30; crises of, 30–35, 43; founder of, 148; records of, 20. See also specific monarchs Christians, 46–48, 98, 257n34; population of, 50; protests by, 47–58; royal support by, 69, 71; Tonghaks and, 35, 50–52, 58 Ch’ungch’ong Province, 219–39, 220, 229–32t, 269 chungdoju (intermediary rent collectors), 188, 190, 208, 264 Chungniphoe, 97 Ch’unsaeng Gate Incident (1895), 52 civic rights, 286, 287. See also people’s rights civilization and enlightenment, 8–9, 15, 67, 76, 134, 163n5, 163–64, 164n9 class: elite reformers and, 12n39, 198; Ilchinhoe views of, 164, 195–96 collaboration, 3–8, 164, 267–79, 285–87; accommodation versus, 5–6, 19; definitions of, 5–8, 19; “logic” of, 141, 149, 160–61; populist, 13–19; scandals of 2004 about, 1–3 Confucianism, 14, 242, 245, 277; Christianity and, 35, 98; haircutting practices and, 82, 121; Japanese, 73–74; literati of, 199; people’s rights in, 136–37; populism and, 17; reformist views of, 39, 77–79; Righteous Armies and, 66–67 Conroy, Hilary, 9–10 constitutional monarchy, 144–47 Cooper, Frederick, 5 Dahl, Robert A., 180–81 Daiichi Bank, 110n100, 267 Darwin, Charles, 151 democracy, 33, 44, 137, 159, 280–81; civic rights in, 286, 287; constitional monarchy and, 144–47; egalitarianism and, 17, 35–36; natural rights in, 135, 156, 159, 181; populism and, 15–18, 41–43; voting rights in, 136. See also people’s rights divorce, 147 dress code, 126–30, 129

Duara, Prasenjit, 286 Dudden, Alexis, 9, 11 Duus, Peter, 10–11, 13, 144, 246n9 East Asian Education Association, 237 education, 163, 217; Ilchinhoe schools for, 190–92, 261n43; Japanese-sponsored, 77, 104 egalitarianism, 17, 35–36. See also democracy Eisenstadt, S. N., 24n1 elites, 24, 25, 216–18, 245, 255; court, 30–35, 39; local status quo and, 44, 265–70, 276–79; Patriotic Enlightenment Movement and, 119, 214, 217, 218; populists versus, 101, 198–202; reformers among, 30–35, 39, 118–20, 246. See also yangban aristocrats Enlightenment Party, 66–67, 126 Enlightenment School, 8–9, 17, 23; An T’ae-gon and, 55; Japanese support of, 38; Pan-Asianism of, 67; people’s rights and, 135; pro-Japanese views of, 71, 74–75, 126; reformers of, 32–33 eunuchs, 204 exchange rates, 93, 110n100 famine relief, 29, 31 federation, 152 flag, Korean, 146 France: Chinese conflicts with, 150n83; Korean conflicts with, 38, 58; missionaries from, 50, 58; revolutionary legacy of, 137; Russian policies of, 67 freedom: of action, 122n9, 155; of assembly, 138–40, 282; of speech, 138–40, 157, 160, 282 Fukuzawa Yukichi, 135 Gallager, John, 10 Germany, 4, 6, 149–50 ginseng tax, 178 gold mines, 47, 58–64, 179–80 Great East Asian Union, 150–52. See also Pan-Asianism Great Korean Association of SelfStrengthening. See Taehan Chaganghoe Great Korean Empire, 22–23, 79, 242–43 Gross, Jan T., 5n15 Guha, Ranajit, 7n21 Habermas, Jürgen, 6n18 Hague Incident, 145, 148 Hague Peace Conference (1907), 144–45, 148, 268, 282

INDEX

haircutting practices, 82–83, 89–92, 99, 120–34, 147; Kojong on, 122; among peddlers, 199–200; police view of, 102; populist view of, 163, 199; Righteous Armies and, 271; Song Pyong-jun on, 124–25; Sunjong and, 146 Han Ch’ang-jong, 185 Han Ch’i-sun, 56–57 Han Chong-gyu, 113 Han Kyong-won, 113 Han Myong-in, 186n72 Han Myong-gun, 164n7 Han Won-mo, 207–8 Hasegawa Yoshimichi, 105, 113, 143–44, 271, 273 Hayashi Gonsuke, 105, 110, 248, 249 Hayashi Yusuke, 18, 165, 195 Ho Kyom, 106 Ho Wi, 106 Hong Ki-jo, 93n40 Hong Kung-sop, 141, 239 Hong Sok-kyu. See Wilhelm, Nicolas J. M. Hong Kyong-nae Rebellion (1811), 27, 29 Hulbert, Homer B., 52 Hunt, Leigh S. J., 59 Hunt, Lynn, 120 Hwang Hyon, 75, 93; on haircutting, 126; Son Pyong-hui and, 95n44 Hwanghae Province, 50–58, 257–62; maps of, 49, 56, 65; railway construction in, 92–94, 93t Hwaso School, 66, 79 hyanghoe, 25, 33–34, 265. See also local elite associations; local yangban associations hyanghoe chogyu (regulations on local association), 34 Ikuda Tosaku, 109–10 Ilchinhoe (Advance in Unity Society), 3, 13–19; Chinbohoe and, 82, 92, 106, 124, 126, 270; collapse of, 270–73; crisis of 1906 in, 268–70; dress code of, 126–30, 129; founding of, 17, 82, 95–96; histories of, 21, 144, 163n3, 200–201; Independence Club and, 42, 103, 119, 134, 282; Japanese co-optation of, 267–79, 285–86, 288; Japanese opposition to, 104–5, 108, 262–65; Japanese support of, 95, 105, 115, 120, 201, 239–40, 244, 245; legacy of, 281–88; manifesto of 1904 of, 138–41, 152, 160, 281–82; membership of, 17–18, 47, 95, 131, 165, 195–96; 1907 proposal by, 145–47; 1909 petitions for annexation by, 148–50; original

291

name of, 82n2; platform of, 94–97, 101, 119–21, 130, 153, 155; populism of, 15–19, 163–66, 193, 239–40, 288; proclamation of 1905 by, 141–44; Righteous Armies and, 92, 164–65, 245, 271; during Russo-Japanese War, 83–94, 113–16, 143–44; subversion of local society by, 194–98, 214–18; Tonghaks and, 13, 17, 82, 88, 91, 94–97, 134, 163–64 Im Yop, 31 Independence Club, 8, 12n38, 33, 39–45, 137, 281–82; haircutting practices of, 122; Ilchinhoe and, 42, 103, 119, 134, 282; Kojong and, 42–43, 136; membership of, 40–41; pro-Japanese views of, 71; in P’yongyang, 72–73, 79 Independence Hall, 41–42, 248 India, Anglicized elites in, 7n21 Ito Hirobumi, 10–13, 242–46, 251; assassination of, 46, 149; Ilchinhoe and, 145, 267–75, 279; Kojong and, 20–21, 267–68, 275–76, 286; Sunjong and, 14, 242–43, 245, 276–79 Japan Party, 8, 96 Kabo Reform (1894–1896), 8, 33–35, 39; critics of, 75; land policies of, 196–97, 214–18; of police, 200n21; after Queen Min’s murder, 121; tax policies of, 53–54, 167, 168, 185, 189, 193; Tonghaks and, 77 kado, 181, 183t, 255. See also additional rents kajon, 181. See also additional rents; kado Kaksa Tungnok (Administrative Bureaus Records), 20, 182, 196, 228, 238–39 kamni (director-general), 84n10, 130, 172, 177–79, 248–49 Kang Ch’i-ju, 174 Kang Chung-i, 237 Kapsin Palace Coup (1884), 33, 53 Karlsson, Anders, 27–28 Kawashima, Fujiya, 26–27 Kim Chae-hui, 211 Kim Ch’i-myong, 203, 204, 206 Kim Ch’ol-jun, 114 Kim Chong-ha, 182 Kim Chong-jun, 164n9, 195–96 Kim Chong-sok, 214–16 Kim Chong-su, 228–32 Kim, Christine, 14 Kim Chu-sok, 2 Kim Chwa-jin, 2n8 Kim Hak-chin, 37, 38 Kim Hak-yong, 221 Kim Ho-in, 179

292

INDEX

Kim Hongjip, 66n59 Kim Hui-guk, 215 Kim Hui-gyong, 261 Kim Hui-son, 2n8 Kim Hyong-gwan, 208 Kim I-hyon, 213 Kim Ing-no, 136–37 Kim In-gol, 25 Kim Kae, 89 Kim Kae-nam, 36n53 Kim Ku, 79 Kim Kun-t’ae, 2n8 Kim Kwang-dong, 205 Kim Kwan-sin, 205 Kim Kyong-nak, 186–87 Kim Kyong-t’aek, 163n5 Kim Kyu-ch’ang, 121–22 Kim Mun-hong, 259 Kim Myong-jun, 280 Kim Ok-kyun, 150n83 Kim Pong-jin, 135 Kim Pyong-ho, 57 Kim Sa-gil, 203–4 Kim Sa-muk, 273–74 Kim Sang-gyong, 66 Kim Sang-uk, 207 Kim Sa-sung, 104 Kim Song-ch’il, 259, 260 Kim Song-p’al, 66 Kim Son-yong, 182 Kim Su-hong, 257–58 Kim Sun Joo, 27, 31–32 Kim Sun-myong, 57 Kim T’ae-ung, 170n36 Kim Tong-myong, 164n8 Kim Tong-nyong, 57–58 Kim To-son, 92–94 Kim To-sun, 191 Kim Ung-son, 174 Kim Yang-sik, 264 Kim Yang-son, 253–54 Kim Yong-hak, 87, 93n40, 212–13 Kim Yong-mun, 200 Kim Yong-sop, 196 Kim Yon-guk, 75 Ko Sok-kyu, 25 Ko Tong-hwan, 113 Ko Yong-sok, 131 Kojong, Emperor of Korea, 20–23, 79, 118; dethronement of, 39, 52, 145, 268, 269, 272; funeral of, 14; Ilchinhoe repression by, 101–8, 115–16; Independence Club and, 42–43, 136; Ito Hirobumi and, 20–21,

267–68, 275–76, 286; popular assemblies and, 155, 284; pro-Russian views of, 8, 39, 67, 78; reforms of, 12, 34, 39–40, 194, 283–84, 286; Russo-Japanese War and, 97; tax policies of, 44, 167–69, 283–84; during Tonghak Rebellion, 36. See also Choson dynasty Kokuryukai. See Black Dragon Society Komura Jutaro, 250–53 Kongjinhoe (Common Progress Society), 200, 248 Konoe Atsumaro, Prince of Japan, 73 Korea-France Treaty (1886), 50 Korea-Japan agreements, 144–45, 252, 288 Korean-Chinese Agreement on Commerce and Trade, 68 Korean-Russian Bank, 41 Ku Wan-hui, 18, 281; Russo-Japanese War and, 110–12; Tonghak uprising and, 86, 88–96 Kungnaebu (Ministry of the Royal Household in Korea), 33, 167, 262 Kun’gukkimuch’o, 34 Kunitomo Shigeaki, 73 Kwangmu Reforms, 39–40; tax policies of, 167–70, 178–79, 185, 189, 192–94, 252 Kwangmu School, 140–41 kwankwon, 156, 158 Kwanso Kyerok (Reports of P’yongan Provincial Govenor), 28–30 Kwon Chong-dok, 90–91 Kwon Tong-jin, 77 Kyongmuch’ong, 200n21 Kyongniwon (Royal Treasury), 107, 173, 178n54, 191–92, 213n53, 215, 253–57 Kyongwiwon (Imperial Guard Police), 107, 171 Laclau, Ernesto, 16–17 land reforms, 197–98, 229–32t; of Kabo cabinet, 196–97, 214–18; after Tonghak Rebellion, 37–39, 196–97. See also tenant rents Larsen, Kirk, 47 Lew, Young-Ick, 196–97 Liang Qichao, 151 local advisory bureaus, 25–27, 44 local defense army (chinwidae), 63, 84, 101–11, 199 Local Defense Forces, 90, 117–19 local directorates, 34–39, 44, 266 local elite associations, 33, 37, 44, 57–58, 90, 111–12, 182, 195, 199, 201–2, 244, 252–55, 265–67, 283–84, See also hyanghoe

INDEX

local yangban associations, 25–27, 30 lumbering. See timber industry Manchuria, 68, 69; Manchukuo and, 286–87; during Russo-Japanese War, 81, 85–86, 110. See also China March First Movement (1919), 267n58, 281 marriage customs, 147 Marxism, 197 Megata Tanetaro, 251–52 Meiji Restoration, 8–10, 46, 276n84. See also Japan methodology, 19–21 military lands, 167–69, 171n39, 183–84t, 187–90, 252 Min, Queen of Korea, 10n29, 39, 52; Kabo reformists and, 121; Righteous Armies and, 65, 66, 66n59, 75 Min Yong-ch’ol, 51–53, 58 Min Yong-gi, 73 Min Yong-hwan, 155 Min Yong-jun, 55 miners, 252; protests by, 47–49, 58–64; taxation of, 178–80 Ministry of Finance, 44, 54, 73–74, 147, 167–69, 171, 173, 176–77, 184, 186, 216, 250–53, 256, 259, 263 minkwon, 119, 134, 137, 156–59, 162, 164, 245 Minkwondang. See People’s Rights Party Mitter, Rana, 287 Miyahara Masahito, 88 Moriyama Shigenori, 164n7, 241–42 Morse, James R., 58, 59n38 Mun Hak-si, 215–18 Mun Hak-su, 93n40 Mun Sok-ho, 214–15 Mun Yong-gon, 85n16 Musashi Kumataro, 83–84 Mutel, Gustave, 48 Na In-hyop, 97 Na Pyong-hui, 264 Nagamori Plan, 105 Nagashima Hiroki, 164–65 Nam Tong-mun, 238 natural rights, 135, 156, 159, 281 Nazi collaborators, 4, 6 Nish, Ian, 85–86 O Chi-yong, 38 O Mun-hwan, 77 O Sang-un, 211–12 O Se-ch’ang, 77

293

Ogaki Takeo, 156–58, 268 Ogawara Hiroyuki, 242–43, 245–46 Om Kye-hyon, 254 onkwon chayu. See freedom, of speech opium, 35, 85 original rents, 181–82, 185–87, 218, 259–60 Paek Hak-chung, 215–17 Paek Pyong-hu, 214–15 Paek Pyong-nim, 216 Paek Yu-mok, 191 Paekhaks, 86, 87 Paekpaekto (“Snow White Crowd”), 89 Pak Ch’an-sung, 12n39 Pak Che-sun, 68, 272, 273 Pak In-su, 235–36 Pak Kyu-su, 32 Pak Rae-hun, 261, 263–64 Pak Un-sik, 21 Pak Yong-hyo, 75, 77; An T’ae-hun and, 53; Kojong and, 33n41 Palais, James, 23–24, 29 Pan-Asianism, 46, 64–74, 145; Great East Asian Union and, 150–52; of Tonghaks, 48, 78–80, 97–98, 150–52 Patriotic Enlightenment Movement, 119, 214, 217, 218 Peasant War. See Tonghak Rebellion people’s assemblies, 41, 266 people’s rights, 96–97, 119, 120, 134–39, 151–60, 162–64; Confucian view of, 136–37; government rights and, 156; Independence Club on, 44; in land disputes, 216. See also democracy People’s Rights Party, 119, 120, 156, 158, 245 police force, 1–2, 102, 200n21, 274 pongswaegwan (government commissioners for tax collection), 169. See also royal commissioner popular assemblies, 12n38, 41, 103–5, 281; Kojong’s conflict with, 155, 284 popular rights. See people’s rights populism, 284–86; Confucian, 17; definitions of, 15, 165–66, 196; democracy and, 15–18, 41–43; elites versus, 101, 198–202; of Ilchinhoe, 15–19, 163–66, 193, 239–40, 288 postal station lands, 167–69, 180–87, 183–84t, 212–13, 221–23, 238, 252–55 Poun Assembly (1893), 36protectorate, Korea as, 10–11, 36, 46–47, 141–51, 241–79, 285–88. See also annexation Protestants, 47, 48, 51n14, 52. See also Christians

294

INDEX

public lands, 167–70; Ilchinhoe schools and, 190–92, 261n43; rents from, 175, 180–87, 183–84t, 253; tenant rights to, 203–9 Pyon Chong-sang, 130 P’yongan Province, 28, 202–18; maps of, 49, 56, 65; miner protests in, 47–48, 58–64; public lands in, 183–84t, 210t; railway construction in, 92–94, 93t P’yongyang, 28–29, 59, 65; Christians of, 71–73; Japanese seizure of, 87, 110; during Russo-Japanese War, 86, 110 race, 8, 18, 233 railways, 110, 114, 157, 267; Ilchinhoe construction of, 92–94, 93t, 202, 244; in Manchuria, 68, 69; Seoul, 86, 92–93 rents. See tenant rents resident-general (t’onggam), 10, 13, 242, 272, 275, 286 Rhee, Syngman, 41 Righteous Armies, 3, 38, 75, 274; Confucianism and, 66–67; Hwaso School and, 79; Ilchinhoe and, 92, 164–65, 245, 271; Ito on, 274n77; recruitment of, 66n59, 199 Riker, William A., 16 Robinson, Ronald, 7, 10, 287 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 118–19, 158–60 royal commissioner, 32, 223–25, 233, 236. See also pongswaegwan; sujogwan Royal Treasury, 107, 173, 178n54, 191–92, 213n53, 215, 253–57 Russia, 8, 39, 48; Chinese military base of, 41; French policies with, 67; Korean settlements of, 64, 84–85; Pan-Asianism and, 73, 78; populism in, 15 Russia party (Rosiadang), 105 Russo-Japanese War, 3, 43, 46, 81–116, 148, 278; Chinbohoe during, 200; Ilchinhoe during, 83–94, 113–16; outbreak of, 85–86 Schmid, Andre, 8–9, 13–14, 48 Setton, Mark, 17 Sich’ongyo, 125, 125n26, 237 Shigemitsu Kunio, 2 Shinjo Junketsu, 73, 74, 85 Shinto Yoshio, 73–74 Sill, John M. B., 52 Sin Ch’ae-ho, 21 Sin Ik-kyun, 180–81 Sin Ki-son, 121–23, 153–55 Sin Sang-muk, 1–2 Sin T’ae-hwan, 178, 213n53 Sin Yong-ha, 32n36

Sino-French War, 150n83 Sino-Japanese War, 38, 46–48; Korean views of, 72, 140n69, 148, 278 “Snow White Crowd” (Paekpaekto), 89 So Kwang-bom, 75 So Nae-ch’ol, 83 So Sin-bong, 205 socialism, 166, 219n62 Sol P’il-lim, 62 Someya Nariaki, 248–49 Son Ch’on-min, 75 Son Ki-son, 215 Son Pyong-hui, 75–77, 76n99, 82; Ch’ondogyo and, 132–33; Chungniphoe and, 97; Ilchinhoe and, 95n44; PanAsianism of, 150–51; Tonghak uprising and, 86; writings of, 77–78; Yi Yong-gu and, 133, 269–70 Son Pyong-hum, 77, 78 Sone Arasuke, 10 Song Kil-won, 131 Song Pyong-jun, 82, 239, 240, 278, 285; on haircutting, 124–25; lifestyle of, 273n75; during protectorate, 141, 269–74; during Russo-Japanese War, 113; Son Pyong-hui and, 133 Sou Hakhoe (organization), 217 Sugiyama Shigemaru, 270 sujogwan, 163, 170, 186n72, 189, 205, 211–15, 253–55, 258–61. See also royal commissioner Sukchong, King of Korea, 25 Sunjo, King of Korea, 31 Sunjong, Emperor of Korea: Ilchinhoe and, 145–47; Ito and, 14, 242–43, 245, 276–79 Sunjong, Prince of Korea, 118, 149 Sunmyonghyo, Empress of Korea, 118, 128 Taean Palace Gate incident (1904), 107, 115 Taehan Chaganghoe, 120, 133, 156, 158, 268–70 Taewon’gun, Prince of Korea, 38 Taiwan, 11 Tamura Iyojo, 78 Tarui Tokichi, 150–52 Tasaka Sadatomi, 111–12 taxes, 30–34; Catholics and, 51, 53–55, 57, 58; ginseng, 178; Ilchinhoe resistance to, 116, 154, 162–93, 201–14, 239, 244, 252, 262–65, 283–84; Kabo policies of, 53–54, 167, 168, 185, 189, 193; Kojong’s policies for, 44, 167–69, 283–84; Kwangmu policies of, 167–70, 178–79, 185, 189, 192–94, 252; land

INDEX

surveys for, 31–32; of miners, 178–80; miscellaneous, 167, 169–80, 252; during protectorate, 250–53, 265–70, 274–75; salt, 176 tenant rents, 204, 218; disputes over, 167–68, 175, 180–87, 207–9, 228–39; people’s rights and, 203–9, 213, 215–16, 236; supervisors of, 202–7, 209–14, 210t, 217, 221–28, 253, 256–65. See also land reforms Terauchi Masatake, 279 Tientsin Convention (1885), 36 timber industry, 175; Chinese conflicts over, 68–69, 70t; Japanese conflicts over, 83–84; Russian conflicts over, 64n53, 84–85 Tonghak (Eastern Learning), 13–15; anti-monarchic uprisings of, 81; Chinbohoe and, 201; Ch’ondogyo and, 132–33; Christians and, 35, 50–52, 58; egalitarianism of, 17, 35–36; founder of, 35, 272; government dissidents in, 75–76; haircutting practices of, 124–25; history of, 38, 76, 78, 124, 197; Ilchinhoe and, 13, 17, 82, 88, 91, 94–97, 134, 163–64; membership of, 18, 89; Pan-Asianism of, 48, 78–80, 97–98, 150–52; platform of, 96–98, 101, 235; practices of, 88–89; pro-Japanese views of, 39, 47–48, 74–78 Tonghak Rebellion (1894), 12n39, 14, 17, 22, 89; causes of, 32; Chinese support of, 72; defeat of, 39; local directorates of, 36–39, 44; reforms after, 37–39, 196–97; Yi Yong-gu on, 125 Tonghak Rebellion (1904), 39, 86–96, 120 Tongnip Hyophoe. See Independence Club transnationalism, 79, 134, 281, 286 treason, 3, 8, 132, 143, 146, 243 Treat, John W., 4 treaty port system, 47, 58–59, 69 Triple Intervention, 10, 47, 50, 86 truth and reconciliation committees, 1–2 turak (0.163 acre), 181n65, 223, 224, 226, 227, 228, 229–32t5, 233–38 Uchida Ryohei, 10, 244, 268–73, 279 Uiju, 18, 64n56, 65, 66, 72, 74, 84–92, 104, 110–111, 175, 177n53, 180–181, 191, 254n28, 278 Ulmi. See Kabo Reform Underwood, Horace G., 52 United Kingdom, 62–64 United States, 52; Korean conflicts with, 38, 71–72; mining interests of, 58–64 Unsan, 58–61, 64, 182, 183t, 255, 256, 262

295

Villiers, Frederick, 118 voluntary guard aides, 3, 243, 247 voting rights, 136 Wang In, 73–74 Washington, George, 136 Western Learning, 35, 51 Wilhelm, Nicolas J. M., 50, 55 Wilson, H. W., 87 wondo, 181–182, 187. See also original rents Won Han’guk Ilchinhoe Yoksa (The Original History of the Ilchinhoe in Korea), 17n57, 21, 144 Won Yong-gyu, 186n72, 189, 254–57 Yagamuchi Toyomasa, 263 Yalu, Battle of, 86 Yang Chae-ik, 121–22 Yang Chi-dal, 178 yangban aristocrats, 24, 39, 198, 224; associations of, 25–27, 30–31, 34; Ito and, 268, 277; during Tonghak Rebellion, 37. See also elites Yi Che-ma, 74 Yi Chin-ho, 77 Yi Chi-yong, 109 Yi Ch’i-yong, 66 Yi Ch’ol-hong, 92–93 Yi Chong-il, 276 Yi Chun-ch’il, 55 Yi Chung-ha, 110, 254–55 Yi Ha-yong, 110 Yi Hong-sop, 204–5 Yi Hyon-sik, 237 Yi Kwang-nin, 32n36 Yi Kwang-su, 4, 77 Yi Kwan-sop, 207–8 Yi Kyom-su, 93n40 Yi Kyu-won, 274 Yi Man-sik, 82n4, 90–91 Yi Mi-gyong, 2n8 Yi Min-bu, 177, 177n53 Yi Min-hwa, 117–19 Yi No-su, 184 Yi Pog-u, 228 Yi Pom-il, 221–22 Yi Sok-yun, 172–74 Yi Sung-nak, 176 Yi Tae-gyu, 217 Yi T’ae-hyop, 208 Yi T’ae-jin, 12 Yi Tong-hwi, 208, 215–17 Yi Tu-hyong, 214–16

296

INDEX

Yi Un-hui, 163n5, 164n6 Yi Un-sop, 207 Yi Wan-yong, 51, 55, 59, 145, 164; during protectorate, 268, 270–73, 278 Yi Won-sok, 222 Yi Yong-ch’ang, 97 Yi Yong-gu, 76, 77, 82, 270; as Ilchinhoe member, 131; on Kongjinhoe, 200; Pan-Asianism of, 150–52; during RussoJapanese War, 113–14, 143; Son Pyong-hui and, 133, 269, 270; tax resistance by, 174; during Tonghak uprisings, 86, 90–91, 120, 124–25; Uchida and, 271–72 Yi Yong-ho, 34 Yi Yong-hun, 26, 27 Yi Yong-ik, 140n71, 168–69 Yi Yong-on, 71 Yo In-sop, 263 Yongch’in, Prince of Korea, 251 Yongjo, King of Korea, 25 Yoshihito, Prince of Japan, 251 Young, Carl, 76

Yu Chae-p’ung, 66 Yu Chong-ju, 192 Yu Hak-chu, 107 Yu In-sok, 65–66 Yu Ki-hwan, 60 Yu Kil-jun, 34, 135, 245, 279 Yu Man-hyon, 53 Yu Un-sok, 53, 54 Yu Won-t’aek, 90 Yun Ch’i-ho, 92n39, 103, 279; on Ilchinhoe repression, 105; on Russo-Japanese War, 81, 114 Yun Chong-sop, 205 Yun Kap-pyong, 113, 274 Yun Kil-byong, 91 Yun Kil-sung, 104 Yun Si-byong, 82, 95; on haircutting, 126; as Ilchinhoe leader, 131, 140; Taeanmun incident and, 107 Yun Ung-yol, 103, 105 Yushinhoe (Restoration Society), 82n2. See also Ilchinhoe