hankyoreh

A photo of Heaven Lake (Cheonji) at the top of Mt. Baekdu was printed in The Hankyoreh’s first edition. The above photo marks a revisit to the lake and to The Hankyoreh’s founding spirit. It was taken by photographer Ahn Seung-il (aged 72 years)

The Hankyoreh newspaper was the child of street demonstrations. The fervent cries of democracy protesters in June 1987 were inscribed on the umbilical cord when it was born. It has been the destiny of The Hankyoreh to grow up while being jostled by the crowd and buffeted by the wind and the rain during history-making demonstrations—from the democracy movement in 1987 through the candlelit revolution in 2016.

The history of South Korea over the past 30 years is also the history of The Hankyoreh. The Hankyoreh’s inaugural message in its first edition on May 15, 1988, began with the phrase, “We have created our first issue today with trembling emotion.” That trembling emotion is the lasting spirit of The Hankyoreh that cannot and must not be forgotten. And now we are passionately pondering those words in our hearts once more as we create the newspaper’s 30th anniversary edition.

A burning thirst, an ardent thirst, was what brought The Hankyoreh into being three decades ago, as we waited for dawn in this land. The Hankyoreh expressed that thirst through the vision espoused in its first issue: “democracy, livelihood and the Korean nation.” Achieving democracy, ensuring The Hankyoreh has run for the past thirty years without resting. The course has not been smooth. That history has cycled between progress and reversals.

Just when spring seemed to be on its way, we fell back into winter’s icy clutches. When the whole world seemed to be growing bright, we once again had to endure a time of darkness. When the night was pitch-black, The Hankyoreh has striven to be the candle that heralds the dawn; in the harsh snow of winter, The Hankyoreh has sought to be the sturdy pine tree that remains evergreen.

On that long journey, the more than 60,000 shareholders and readers who founded and built The Hankyoreh have always been a steady source of support.

A photo of Heaven Lake (Cheonji) at the top of Mt. Baekdu was printed in that first issue of the Hankyoreh. At the time, Heaven Lake was taboo—a forbidden place, an unimaginable destination. That is why the front page of the Hankyoreh’s first issue those 30 years ago was splashed with a photo of Heaven Lake. Since the Korean War, not a single South Korean had officially and publicly ascended Heaven Lake, so no South Korean could have photographed the lake after the Korean War.

The photo of Heaven Lake in our first issue was the work of Hiroji Kubota, 79, a world-famous Japanese photographer. But passion for unification was not the only thing conveyed by that photo of Heaven Lake. By reminding our readers that democracy and the people’s right to survival would be smothered if trapped by the bonds of taboos, we dreamed of the liberation of the jailed imagination. That is why we called Heaven Lake “the end of our longing and the beginning of our hope.”

Today reconfirms the aphorism that history is ultimately a forward march. The train of democracy and human rights has emerged from the dark tunnel of regression and has gotten back on track. Though slowly and with difficulty, there is progress toward improvement in the lives of the people.

A mood of reconciliation and coexistence is forming on the Korean Peninsula, which had come precariously close to a crisis. While watching the recent inter-Korean summit at Panmunjeom, it is truly remarkable to think how The Hankyoreh suffered concentrated attacks by conservative groups because it referred to North Korea’s founder Kim Il-sung by a respectful title of “president” in its first edition.

Even so, our inaugural vision of “democracy, livelihood and the Korean nation” is a banner that we must continue to carry. The challenge of democracy transcends the political realm: we must let it take root in all areas of our lives. Most people’s lives are still a struggle, a battle fought each and every day. There is still a long and difficult journey until the day when South and North Korea are reunited and Koreans live together in happiness.

who has spent the last two decades photographing the breathtaking beauty of Mt. Baekdu since his first visit in 1994. Ahn offered only a brief explanation of the shot: “I took it sometime in mid-June some year

Looking back over the 30 years since the newspaper was founded, we are overcome not only by joy and pride but also by contrition and remorse. If The Hankyoreh had worked a little harder and done a better job, we would have seen the world change faster. Reflection is needed about whether our passion has faded over the past 30 years and whether our thinking and perception have grown dull. The remonstrances of readers who say we have lost our original vision are a clarion call that awaken us from our complacency and laziness.

Our ears are ringing with sharp criticism about our decreasing interest in the vulnerable members of society and our arrogant refusal to communicate with our readers. Once again, we are putting our hearts in the right place.

We have chosen two keywords to mark the 30th anniversary of The Hankyoreh’s establishment. The first is “truth.” This is the eternal mission of the press—extremely obvious, of course, but also extremely difficult. Song Kun-ho, The Hankyoreh’s first president, wrote the following words about truthful reporting: “It is necessary to see not the part, but the whole; to view things in terms of history’s new values and not its regressive ones; and to be clear about what is fundamental and what is conditional.”

While Song said this was a “lonely path,” it is now a path we are on together. We will strive to be an honest forum for discussion and debate with our readers, a voice of truth and learning.

Our second keyword is “peace.” Renowned Spanish cellist Pablo Casals once said, “The birds of Catalonia in Spain sing of peace, peace, peace.” Let us make the birds that are free to fly over the barbed wire on the armistice line in South Korea sing of peace, too. But peace is not the opposite of war. Nor should that peace be limited to inter-Korean relations.

Peace is not the absence of conflict; it is the presence of creative ideas for resolving our differences through peaceable means. Peace blooms above an agreement to rise above discord. Peace grows through our earnest need for each other. And in the end, the basic condition for peace is the truth.

The Hankyoreh will now be beginning its journey toward the next thirty years. As we stand at the starting point, we turn back to our original vision. It is time to sharpen our pencils once more and rekindle the flames of love and passion in our hearts, as we communicate our appreciation and respect to our shareholders and readers.

from the South Korean side right near the border with North Korea.” Even today

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