Reflections on 12.12: The Day

I watched 12.12: The Day(Seoul Spring) the day before yesterday. I’m not a professional film critic, so I’ll just share my impressions.

Three years ago, on Professor Ti’s recommendation, I had already seen The Fifth Republic¹, so the historical events of South Korea’s December 12 coup were not unfamiliar to me. What actually bothered me was the film’s use of altered character names—I couldn’t keep track of who was who, which added to my viewing difficulty. I don’t understand why, when political dramas can be made with real names, they suddenly become taboo when they hit the big screen.

To heighten dramatic tension, the film forcibly manufactures some rather implausible plot points, making the coup seem absurdly casual. The coup had already begun, yet it still required General Jeon² to personally rush around督战 supervising the frontlines and putting out fires everywhere. In this regard, I feel The Fifth Republic, unhindered by time constraints, was more logical. The members of Hanahoe were utterly determined to seize power for their own interests, and each key figure displayed considerable initiative during the coup. One scene that left a particularly deep impression on me was when Kim Jin-young (in reality, from the coup faction) single-handedly stopped anti-coup tanks—a kind of reverse “Tank Man” if you will. * Seoul Spring* basically portrays an organized and premeditated military coup by regular forces against a government side that lacked mental preparation, had weak resistance, and fought scattered battles.

In the end, those patriotic soldiers on the side of justice in the coup didn’t fare too well, while the coup’s leaders—Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo—each served as president in turn. Although later tried and convicted, they only spent a few years in prison before being pardoned by Kim Dae-jung. Both lived until 2021, dying in their hospital beds at ninety.

Many people say they felt heavy-hearted after watching this film, which is only natural—who can bear to see those who turn back the wheel of history riding high? Yet upon closer reflection, one must acknowledge the harsh reality of political struggle and the tortuous path of historical progress. The Seoul Spring events occurred after South Korean President Park Chung-hee was assassinated, but before that, he had been a dictator for eighteen years. During those eighteen years of dictatorship, South Korea experienced rapid economic development, known as the “Miracle on the Han River.” Economic development lent legitimacy to the authoritarian government—so much so that more than thirty years later, Koreans still missed Park Chung-hee, using their votes to push his daughter, Park Geun-hye, into the presidency. The film doesn’t provide much background on Hanahoe, but it was actually an organization of loyalists personally cultivated by Park Chung-hee. After Chun Doo-hwan came to power, he essentially continued Park Chung-hee’s pro-American, anti-communist, and economic liberalization policies. His achievements in economics and diplomacy were noteworthy—South Korea experienced the world’s fastest economic growth at the time, with national income quadrupling, and successfully hosted the 1988 Seoul Olympics.

At this point, I wonder if you’re reminded of another major figure in China during the same period? Similar rise to power through a coup³, similar political repression of pro-democracy movements, similar economic liberalization. That’s right—Deng Xiaoping. But what’s worth pondering is that while both men did essentially the same things, their posthumous reputations are worlds apart. In South Korea, almost no one defends Chun Doo-hwan; some say that among all Korean presidents, Chun scores zero in achievements and ten in wrongdoings. But look at his Chinese counterpart, Deng Xiaoping—many Chinese people still regard him as the greatest politician of the twentieth century. How do you explain this? It comes down to being elevated by comparison. When you compare him to his Chinese counterparts, he does indeed appear taller and more imposing.

Another point of comparison: after the Gwangju incident, the tide of democratization in South Korea did not cease. Eventually, pro-democracy figures Kim Young-sam and Kim Dae-jung came to power, and South Korea’s democratic politics got on track. By contrast, after the Tiananmen Square massacre of 1989, China’s democracy movement was crushed and never recovered. The Charter 08 later counted as another attempt by the elite class, but it lacked widespread popular support. To this day, most Chinese people are too frightened to discuss politics. No matter how much the authorities act against the grain, most people treat it as the elephant in the room, as an unchangeable fait accompli. All their solutions just work around it, making improvements. They completely ignore that it is the root of the problem and must be the first thing to be solved. Because the most important mark of democratic politics is the rotation of political parties, it must step down to prove that power can be transferred peacefully. Otherwise, no matter how much you talk, it’s futile—just another cycle of “hide our strength and bide our time—the state advances while the private sector retreats.”

Of course, if you say that this kind of cycle is still better than what happened fourteen times in ancient China—those dynastic transitions where the population plummeted by seventy percent—that’s also true. But damn it, that’s too depressing. Don’t Chinese people deserve civilization? Look at South Korea and Taiwan—after thirty years, their democratic politics are already quite impressive. But look at China—it remains a barbaric society, both domestically and internationally. Their minds are full of “either you kill me or I kill you” thinking, with no understanding of responsibility, no idea how to coexist peacefully and equally with others.

It’s clear that China’s century-long journey has been nothing but detours. Fukuzawa Yukichi wrote An Outline of a Theory of Civilization in 1874, and one hundred fifty years later it still resonates powerfully across time:

The external forms of civilization are easy to adopt, but its spirit is difficult to grasp. To adopt European civilization, one must begin with what is difficult and proceed to what is easy—first transform people’s hearts, then reform government ordinances, and finally achieve tangible material results. Following this sequence, though difficult, presents no real obstacles and can smoothly reach the goal. If the order is reversed, it may seem easier, but in reality the path is blocked, like standing before a wall unable to move forward an inch—either hesitating and making no progress, or trying to advance an inch only to retreat a foot.

This is probably also why South Korea’s democratic process, despite setbacks, ultimately succeeded. In Park Chung-hee’s South Korea and Chiang Kai-shek’s Taiwan, though dictatorial, they were still only authoritarian. Society still had legal political opposition, independent media, a degree of freedom of speech, and processes like local grassroots elections continued to exist. The seeds of freedom and democracy gradually took root in people’s hearts. Even when suppressed, democracy movements could continue to grow, ultimately forcing the democratization of the nation’s highest power elections.

By contrast, Communist China lacks such free space. The values of freedom and democracy circulate only among the elite, while at the societal level there is no space for corresponding democratic forces to grow—almost all space for social autonomy is suppressed. Under such totalitarianism, how can you talk about transforming people’s hearts, about the spirit of civilization?

So some say that South Korea’s democratic transition holds no lessons for China. China’s democratization can only draw from other totalitarian societies, and currently there are only two models: the Soviet-Eastern European transformation and the Germany-Japan model. But the former involved internal evolution under containment by the free world, and by today’s standards can hardly be called successful—it still can’t contain a dictator like Putin, who is leading Russia toward a second collapse. That leaves only the Germany-Japan model.

And indeed, we can see it is step by step following Germany and Japan’s path, becoming a de facto Axis leader and the munitions factory of the totalitarian world. We can only hope it achieves success in one stroke and smoothly gets on the right track, rather than the worse outcome—getting beaten without even tasting the meat. But who could occupy China and forcibly implant a constitutional democratic system? So the most likely outcome is still getting beaten like Germany and Japan, then walking Russia’s half-baked path.

So after watching 12.12: The Day, who can help but think of Tiananmen? Who can help but sigh with regret at how that one failed moment brought such vastly different fates to the nation and people in the decades that followed? Though I know this is wishful thinking, with no basis in political reality—like hoping Emperor Kangxi would lead an industrial revolution—but the possibility did exist, after all.

As for whether these dispirited subjects who’ve lost their courage still deserve saving—I have no answer. Since your bottom line is firmly in someone else’s grasp, your opponent’s optimal strategy is naturally to test just above your bottom line, and the current state is still far from that bottom. Since you’ve chosen a wretched life over a dignified death, then live wretchedly for now. When you can’t stand it anymore, then figure something out.