Yoon Han Bong's Exile in America

윤한봉

윤한봉

• Yoon Han Bong

• Biography
  • Exile in America
  • Overseas activism
  • A leader in the movement
  • After returning home

• NAKASEC 문서화 프로젝트
  • 분류:분야/윤한봉

vdeh

May in Gwangju - the city of light

The army had come not to disperse the demonstrators but to terminate them. Even demonstrators who were running away were chased down, into the dead-ends of alleyways, the interiors of private homes. No civilian was safe. Everyone was a target, regardless of age and sex. The soldiers slaughtered indiscriminately. The beaten and bloodied had their hands tied behind their backs with wires. Wearing nothing but underwear, they were loaded onto military trucks. No one knew where the trucks were going.

But the citizens of Gwangju refused to retreat. The demonstrators held together, woven like a net of iron chain mail. When the soldiers advanced, fitting their bayonets onto their rifles, the citizens would disperse – but only momentarily, before they flooded the streets again.

When darkness fell, the demonstrators multiplied. Everyone except infants and the elderly poured out into the streets. The streets were littered with broken pieces of pavement and gasoline bombs, and speckled with blackish red blood. The soldiers continued their ruthless hunt. The city became a battle ground, ringing with the sound of machine guns and the noise of helicopters. The vehicles burning on the streets poured out an endless cloud of black smoke.

Yoon Han-bong’s sister, Yoon Kyung-ja, paced nervously in her house, carrying her son on her back. It was May 20, 1980 -- the demonstrators were waging a fierce battle against the soldiers in a street not far from her house. She listened to the sound of gunshots ringing out over the cries of demonstrators. Her heart was clamoring to burst its way out of her chest.

Her husband, Park Hyung-seon, had been arrested and dragged away by policemen last night. She had heard nothing from her brother for the past few days. The police had already come to her several times to threaten her – Did she know where her brother was? Was she hiding him? She was too terrified to sleep. She wanted to go out into the streets and see what was happening for herself but she couldn’t make her baby inhale tear gas. Standing on tip toes, she peered out of her window into the darkness.

"Soldiers are coming. Run!"

There was a loud moment of panic, and then the protestors began to flee. Adrenaline pumped them over fences that would have been too tall for them to jump otherwise. But one man was walking slowly. He was a next-door neighbor, an aged pharmacist with four daughters. He thought he would be safe – after all, he had not been a part of the protest. He wore only his undershirt, a white one that caught the eyes of the soldiers. He went into his own house and locked the gate.

Yoon Kyung-ja watched as the soldiers ran after him, and broke down the gate of his house with their bayonets. They filed into the house. The pharmacist, alarmed, ran into his room. He tried to hold off the soldiers by holding the door rings closed, but the soldiers tore down the door. The pharmacist rolled out, screaming. The soldiers attacked him. The pharmacist’s wife and daughters came out and wailed, begging the police to leave him alone – Can’t you see? He’s just an old man! He was just coming home from an errand! The soldiers turned on their heels and filed out of the house, leaving the pharmacist bleeding.

Yoon Kyung-ja looked toward the streets again, where the demonstrators were gathering once more. They fought through the night. At 9 p.m., the demonstrators set the building of a TV company on fire. At 4 a.m., another building of the company was burning, too. As Yoon Kyung-ja watched the flames go up, a low and cautious voice called to her.

"Chan! Chan!"

She could identify the voice instantly. When she opened the door of her house, a man was standing there, his face masked. He held a long screwdriver and a wooden club. The moment he saw her, he crumpled on the ground.

"My brother!"

Yoon Kyung-ja gasped. Then she shoved him away, turning him back toward the streets.

"Did you come here to die? Do you know how many times the police came to arrest you?"

Yoon had been protesting till dawn, and his strength was failing him. Every last muscle was starting to give. He was too exhausted to speak. Seeing that he didn’t have the strength to flee, his sister dragged him inside and shut the door.

“You have to get out of this city now,” she pleaded. “If you stay here, you’ll die a dog’s death. They’re out to get you!”

Three days prior, May 17, 1980, martial law had been proclaimed by Jeon Doo-hwanj. Most organizers of student movements were arrested overnight.

Yoon was a known leader of Gwangju's student movement. He had predicted that the military would come down to Gwangju and had tried to prepare for such an attack. But no one had listened. He himself had only narrowly escaped immediate arrest.

Though he had avoided arrest, he now had no comrades that could help him lead an organized protest. He joined the ranks of the demonstrators as a lonely citizen. He shouted slogans, threw stones, and ran, going whichever way the crowd was going. He felt helpless, and fatigue engulfed him. And now, finally, he had come to his sister’s house, resigned.

"Please, you have to go. All your comrades have already escaped to the countryside."

Yoon refused to listen to his sister’s pleas. He was resolved to remain and fight alongside the demonstrators. Yoon Kyung-ja had no choice but to hide him in the closet. She gave him a bedpan and some food, and locked the closet door.

About two hours later, the elder brother, Yoon Kwang-jang, burst into the house. He had been looking for his brother all night, terrified that the police had gotten to him already. He woke up Yoon Han-bong, who had been sleeping in the closet.

"Han-bong, you have to leave this city immediately. If they arrest you, you’ll never return alive. Leave quickly."

Yoon Kwang-jang had been a mentor to Yoon Han-bong. Stubborn as he was, Yoon Han-bong couldn’t defy his older brother.

“I’ll go.”

Yoon Han-bong and Yoon Kyung-ja walked through the streets together, tensing at every gunshot they heard. They parted at the outskirts of the city. Yoon Kyung-ja stuffed her brother into a taxi – “Drop him off somewhere far, far away from here.”

On May 27, 1980, Yoon heard that all surviving leaders of the resistance had been arrested, and Yoon Sang-won, the last of them, had been shot dead by soldiers. Yoon Han-bong and Yoon Sang-won were the two leaders of the Gwangju Uprising. Yoon Han-bong had been an activist for longer – he had been arrested in 1974 for participating in the National Federation of Democratic Youths and Students, and had led the movement since his release from prison the next year. He was well-known, and wanted by the police. Yoon Sang-won had more recently joined the movement, and the police had not been following him as doggedly. And yet, he was dead. At the news of his comrade’s death, Yoon Han-bong stared at the ground, filled with shame and remorse.

Escape

When Yoon fled from Gwangju, where did he go? What was his life as a refugee like? It’s hard to say, because he left no records around this time, not even a notebook of scribbles. We can only piece his life together from Park Hyo-seon’s work. Park Hyo-seon was a playwright, a refugee alongside Yoon. Their lives were as such:

A disciplined life.
Get up at 5 a.m.
A sincere life.
At intervals when the family sleeps
use the toilet.
A quick bowel movement, and then
wash my face and brush my teeth.
Wipe down the floor
and tidy the room.
Read the newspaper quickly
and put it back in its place.
A disciplined life.
Eat quickly.
Smoke less.
Lock the gate all the time.
Do not turn the light on at night.
Read books under sunlight.
Sleep under moonlight.
Hand-wash laundry.
Do some household chores.
A compact life.
For the sake of the movement.
For the victory of the movement.

Jeong Yong-hwa was Yoon’s close comrade. Jeong took care of Yoon while Yoon was in exile, tending to every detail. One day, Jeong visited Yoon without warning.

“You have to go down to Masan harbor right now. Board the ship there. We don’t have time. It is dangerous for you to get on the bus by yourself. Have Eun-kyung accompany you."

Eun-kyung, a devoted minister, was in charge of putting Yoon in contact with others. As promised, she came in an hour. Yoon, who had spent all his time shut up in his room, looked pale and sickly. With Eun-kyung pretending to be Yoon’s sister, the two of them got on the bus to Masan.

Two men were waiting for them in Masan – Jung Chan-dae and Choi Dong-hyun, an engineer and a navigator on a cargo ship called the Leopard. They took on the daring task of providing Yoon a secret passage out of Korea. Upon Yoon’s arrival, all of them went to an inn to review the plans for the smuggling operation.

According to Jung Chan-dae and Choi Dong-hyun, the ship was a merchant vessel of 35 thousand tons and a crew of 27 sailors. On April 30^th, it was scheduled to leave the harbor in ballast. In Australia, the ship would pick up aluminum, and then sail towards America. In total, a 40 day trip.

There were three major hurdles. First, Yoon had to steal into the cargo. Second, he had to pass through customs in Australia. Third, he also had to pass through customs in America.

They reviewed the plan:

To get on the boat: Yoon dresses like a sailor. Jung Chan-dae and Choi Dong-hyun put their arms around him, and the three of them stagger through the gates pretending to be drunk.

To get off the boat: Someone has promised to help when the boat reaches its destination. He’ll get on the ship, pretending to be a minister. He’ll identify himself through code: He’ll ask Jung Chan-dae, “What flower do you like?” Jung Chan-dae will reply, “I like garden balsams. You?” The helper will reply, “I like azaleas.” If all goes according to plan, Jung Chan-dae will deliver Yoon to the helper.

Yoon successfully boarded the Leopard the day before the ship set sail and hid in a toilet stall. On the day the Leopard left the harbor, Jung Chan-dae and Choi Dong-hyun brought Yoon some money and emergency provisions – dried anchovies, dried shrimps, bread, jam, a towel, and some toothpaste. Later, in the evening, Choi Dong-hyun came down to inform Yoon that the ship had just left the territorial waters of Korea. He was really, truly leaving behind his homeland. Yoon leaned against the wall and wept himself to sleep. “Martyrs of the Gwangju Uprising, may you forgive me for fleeing. Please guide me so that one day I might return and finish the work you left behind.”

For 35 days, Yoon hid in the toilet stall of the patient’s room. Since there were no patients on board, no one used the bathroom there, but Yoon hung an “out of order” sign on the door just in case. The toilet stall shared a wall with the corridor where the sailors slept, so he had to be extremely careful not to make any sound.

The men who were helping Yoon leave the country offered to sneak in food for him, but Yoon thought this was too big a risk. During the trip, he only ate the food he had brought with him. Every day, he allowed himself to eat three pine nuts, one dried anchovy, one dried shrimp, and one slice of bread with some jelly.

But worse than the starvation was the heat. The ship had to pass over the equator twice, once when it sailed from Korea to Australia and once again when it sailed from Australia to America. The walled-in, under-ventilated toilet stall was like an oven. The murderous heat, reaching over 50 degrees Celsius, caused Yoon’s skin to bubble over with boils.

The Leopard arrived in America two days earlier than expected. Minister Harvey, in Seattle, alarmed to hear from the manager of the Leopard that the ship would dock in just a few hours. He quickly contacted Elder Kim Dong-geun and his wife, Kim Jin-sook.

Mrs. Kim, who received the news from Harvey, hurried to board on the ship, accompanying an American minister. She was clever – she delivered a note to all sailors, inviting them to come have dinner at her house at any time. Jung Chan-dae and Choi Dong-hyun, who received the note with her address on it, were able to take Yoon to her house. When Yoon arrived at Kim's house, he was but a skeleton.

Starting his new life in America, Yoon vowed not to forget the sacrifices others had made in Gwangju.

I’ll never forget those who fell in Gwangju. I’ll live a life that honors their sacrifice. I’ll continue the fight, so that one day I’ll be able to return home without shame. I’ll continue the fight, so that one day I’ll be able to forgive myself for running away.

Yoon Han-bong’s nickname was “Habsoo.” Literally, it means the convergence of water, and the term is used in the Korean countryside to refer to a mix of dung and urine, used as fertilizer in the fields. Yoon wanted to become a fertilizer that would help sprout a more just world.

Yoon had personal rules for his own life: First, I will not use English. Second, I will not shower. Third, I will not sleep in a bed. Fourth, I will not loosen my belt, even while sleeping. As I did in Korea, I will also continue to live without accumulating personal property.

The only pleasure that he permitted himself was smoking. From the moment he was up, Yoon smoked incessantly. He attempted to quit several times because the cigarettes caused him breathing problems, but he was unsuccessful. Even this small indulgence he found utterly distasteful.

Aid for the victims of Gwangju

Since dedicating himself to the democratic movement, Yoon’s personal possessions had dwindled to almost nothing. He didn’t even have a bank account. What little he did own were all kept in his tote bag.

There were a number of necessities in the bag; socks, pants, toothpaste, a brush, a comb, a nail cutter, etc. Yoon carried this bag with him as he slept at the homes of his comrades. He wore hand-me-downs from friends and a pair of worn-down sneakers.

Yoon turned down any official job titles or ranks. Even in the organization he set up, he didn't hold an official position. He referred to himself as a fertilizer – something insignificant to be rotted away for the benefit of others.

Yoon also spoke his mind freely. He paid no heed to anyone of any rank. In fact, he was most outspoken against the powerful. Naturally, this earned him both friends and foes. There were many who did not appreciate having their conscience prickled by Yoon’s sharp criticism. On the other hand, there were those who found Yoon trustworthy and brave.

One such person was Hong Ki-wan, who had immigrated to Los Angeles in the early 1970s. He was a hot-blooded man with a strong sense of justice. He and Yoon were of the same age, and the two became friends.

When he met Yoon, Hong was a married man with two sons, and had a stable job as a carpenter. But his friendship with Yoon changed his life. Though he and Yoon argued often, sometimes screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, the two were best friends who encouraged each other in difficult times.

A few other people gathered around Yoon and Hong. At first, about five people gathered together without any official organization title. Later, they called their meeting “Association of Supporters for the Victims of the Gwangju Uprising.” They collected small funds to support those wounded and the bereaved in the Gwangju Uprising. From June of 1982, they held a meeting once a month, and collected money. Yoon believed that this association could bring awareness about what really happened in Gwangju to the Korean immigrants in America.

Since all members of the association were supposed to donate some amount of money, Yoon needed a job and an income. But it was not easy for him to find employment. The immigrations office would not grant him refugee status. Instead, they gave him the right to work. But it was difficult for Yoon to find work as an immigrant.

In October of 1982, Yoon received tragic news: Park Kwan-hyun, the student council president of Chonnam National University, had died in prison during his hunger strike. Park Kwan-hyun was a junior comrade of Yoon’s. On May 16, 1980, Park had led the rally in front of city hall, where his impassioned speech moved the citizens.

“If Chun Doo-hwan and his new military group issue a martial law, let us fight, to the last man, against those violent gangs, for our liberty, our equality and our democracy.'

Three days prior to the Gwangju Uprising, Yoon met with Park to encourage him. Yoon had told him to hold strong and continue the fight against military suppression. These would be the last words Yoon spoke to Park.

As Yoon always did when he was lonely and sad, he sat in a corner to smoke and weep. He was still not over Yoon Sang-won’s death and yet, too soon, death had claimed another dear comrade. Yoon felt guilty for surviving – he wanted to kill himself.

Founding a School—Community Center

Overcome with grief and guilt, Yoon began to fast. Hong fasted alongside him. The two endured ten days of fasting, which they dedicated to their fallen comrade. During their fast, Yoon committed to becoming more proactive in the fight for democracy.

Incidentally, around this time, events in Korea freed Yoon from the need to hide his identity. In Korea, a group of teachers had been arrested under the suspicion that they were trying to overthrow the regime. During the investigation, the police learned that these teachers had met with Yoon Han-bong. Under torture, the teachers confessed that Yoon had escaped to America. This fact became public knowledge. Yoon’s cover was blown. Yoon actually welcomed this change – now there was no need to use an alias, no need to lay low, and he could come out of hiding and organize.

Yoon immediately launched an organization in December. His vision for the organization spanned ten years. First, he wanted to organize the local young adult youth organizations for Korean immigrants and form a local grassroots organization. Then, he would unite these local grassroots organizations to establish a nation-wide youth organization. He envisioned having a Korean young adult and youth organization not only in America but also in Europe, Australia, Canada, and Japan. It was an ambitious plan.

The first step was to secure a home base, a place that could accommodate all the members. Yoon envisioned a community center where Korean immigrants could gather and learn about their common heritage. For the community center in Los Angeles, he proposed the title, “Korean Resource Center” – a school that would become a resource center for Korean culture, history and activism.

Yoon had saved a little less than 2,000 dollars, which was an emergency fund, in case he needed to escape. The hope of having his own room in America was entirely out of his reach. Yet he was able to found the Korean Resource Center (called “Min Jok Hak Gyo” in Korean meaning “Korean National School”) which opened on February 5, 1983.

No one had managed to establish a Korean institute in America before – not Seo Jae-phil nor Lee Syngman. Yoon registered the school as a nonprofit organization and received tax exemption status from the government. Choi Jin-hwan was the chairman of the board of directors of the school and Jeon Jin-ho became its first the principal. Hong Ki-wan quit his job and worked at the school full-time.

Live righteously
Know your roots
Live with integrity

This was written in Hangul on the placard inside the school. These three mantras were the living tenets of the school.

Yoon was the “keeper” of the school – he was literally the janitor. Yoon polished every inch of the school. He scrubbed the floors on his knees and cleaned every inch of the window frames with a rag. There was not an opportunity for dust to settle anywhere.

In two months, Yoon decided to move into the school. He was living in extreme poverty by this time – for meals he made do with rice and water, and a few dried anchovies dipped in pepper sauce. When someone bought him a meal, he would wrap up any leftovers so he could eat them later. Those who pitied him occasionally brought him something to eat - Lee Kil-ju, a vocal performer, had especially cared for Yoon and other people working for the school. Once, Yoon said to her, “I think you must have been a bird in your former life. A bird who sings on tree tops all day long.”

Yoon washed dishes in the bathroom. Because it was forbidden to live in the office, he had to hide himself whenever he heard anyone walk past. He slept on the floor of building and smoked the butts of cigarettes thrown away on the streets. He wore whatever hand-me-downs he could get his hands on.

Despite the difficulties, Yoon and his colleagues lived happily by caring for one another. They helped each other endure days of hunger, of loneliness, of darkness.

Isolation

윤한봉

윤한봉

• Yoon Han Bong

• Biography
  • Exile in America
  • Overseas activism
  • A leader in the movement
  • After returning home

• NAKASEC 문서화 프로젝트
  • 분류:분야/윤한봉

vdeh

Yoon tried to raise support for his school in the immigrant community. “Our school will teach young Korean immigrants their heritage. They will learn to live as proud Koreans in America. We are volunteer teachers who hope to raise awareness of Korean history and culture. Your help would be greatly appreciated.”

Initially, the Korean American communities were enthusiastic about Yoon’s school. However, as strange rumors were perpetrated to sabotage the school, the sentiment changed.

Yoon is an agent, planted by the South Korean government. He’s secretly trying to destroy the Korean immigrant movement for Korea’s democracy and unification.

Yoon supposedly got here on a cargo ship, but nobody saw him get off that ship. How could he have passed customs without the protection of authorities? It’s impossible!

It looks like he really did fight for democracy in Korea. But maybe he was tortured into changing his mind.

The source of these malicious rumors was the Korean consulate. As part of the Korean government’s scheme to isolate Yoon, the consulate slandered him and spread suspicion among local immigrants. Their scheme was effective – Yoon denied these accusations, but he had no standing in the immigrant community. He was unable to stop the rumors, even the most preposterous of them.

Yoon is a spy, dispatched from North Korea.

A portrait of Kim Il-seong is hung in the school. And I’ve heard they fly the flag of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

I’ve heard that people sometimes just evaporate in that school. Gone, into thin air!

Live with integrity

Even when many directors of the school thought the Korean Resource Center would inevitably close its doors, Yoon had faith. He believed that he could find a way to keep it going in spite of the malicious rumors.

In May, 1983, hundreds of Koreans gathered in Los Angeles for a special lecture in remembrance of the Gwangju Uprising, and Yoon was invited as the lecturer.

When Yoon stepped up to the podium, the audience was astonished – That man was Yoon Han-bong? The man who stirred up so much controversy? But he was such a tiny, meek figure! That man was supposedly a spy.

Though his eyes glimmered with determination, the smile on his lips was shy. His voice was timid, almost tremulous. He was not the charismatic and eloquent speaker the audience had expected.

This was Yoon’s first occasion to give a public speech. He didn’t have notes nor index cards for his presentation. As he bowed to the hostile audience and began revealing the story of his life – how he escaped from Korea, how his application for asylum as a political refugee was rejected by the U.S. government. Finally, Yoon gave a detailed account of the Gwangju Uprising and asked the audience to support the fight for democracy in Korea.

This and consequent lectures slowed the spread of the malicious rumors. Yoon began to win support. But Yoon still needed to find the money to sustain the Korean Resource Center. So he began a business venture. Yoon collected a number of eastern and western paintings, as well as works of calligraphy. The poet Kim Ji-ha sent him dozens of paintings. Hong Ki-wan, being an excellent woodworker, framed the art pieces.

Yoon and his friends also sold secondhand goods, such as electronics, cutlery, toys, clothes, and shoe at the flea market. In their spare time, they collected empty cans on the street and sold them for recycling refunds.

Yoon was passionate about collecting books. It was not easy to find books in Korean in America, and on the off chance he did find one, his school could not afford to buy them. He certainly couldn’t afford to buy a copy for all his students. Instead, he photocopied the books.

Yoon was also known for his sense of humor. He wrote up a list of sins that would condemn one to hell – for instance, “the sin of pressuring someone else to drink,” and “the sin of tearing out the best part of a novel.” To this list, he added “the sin of possessing books privately.” He would jokingly threaten his friends as he requested donations from them – You don’t want to go to hell for keeping a good book to yourself, do you? And thus the KRC library grew through donations.

The most difficult issue was the recruitment of students. Yoon taught history, Hong Ki-wan opened a lecture on Taekwondo, and Jeon Ji-ho opened a literature class, but almost nobody showed up.

On lecture days, Yoon was anxious all day. As the lecture time drew near, Yoon would chain smoke in the parking lot. He kept looking around at the people and cars passing by, hoping the car would pull up and bring new students.

Once, they held a class on Korean songs, but not a single student showed up. The four teachers sat around awkwardly. Then they began class, singing children’s songs at the top of their lungs until their voices went hoarse.

It took half a year for the school to start gathering students. Those who came took an immediate liking to Yoon. He was an earnest teacher, lecturing for hours on end. Though some of his students were fifteen years younger than him, Yoon did not let them call him teacher or sir. They were all brothers – Yoon emphasized camaraderie rather than his own authority. His students, charmed by Yoon’s humbleness and passion, began to bring their friends to school. As the student population increased, the school, once shunned and isolated, grew to become a new force in the Korean immigrant community.

A country boy

In October, 1983, as the school was shaping up, Yoon initiated a new organization, called the Young Koreans United (YKU). The inaugural meeting was held in a trade union building in San Francisco on January 1 of 1984. About a dozen students from Yoon’s school attended, as well as a few young men from Chicago and New York who had heard about the school.

The following is Lee Jong-rok’s description of the YKU:

I first heard of Yoon around 1984. I heard he was a student activist who had smuggled himself overseas secretly. It was quite the mystery. Why did he flee not to Japan but to America? At the time it sounded like a myth.

A friend of mine at Yale said he’d met Yoon in Boston once. This was in 1984, when Yoon was going around the main cities of America where there were large populations of Koreans. My friend said Yoon, at a glance, looked like he belonged in a farm. He was dressed simply, and he spoke very plainly. The Ivy-League students who met him thought of him as an inferior.

But then one day my friend got into an argument with Yoon. It lasted all night. At first, my friend was very sure of himself. But as the night wore on, he became more and more convinced by Yoon’s rough, simple speech. And by morning, he’d entirely changed his mind.

Since then, my friend played an important role in organizing the Boston branch of the YKU. My friend said he realized that night that the intellectuals – himself included – were far removed from reality, whereas Yoon was passionate and invested in that reality because he lived in it. He was an activist, and not a critic. He had a way of breaking down the intellectual elitism in educated young men, and convincing them to become involved and to take action as a part of an organization, of a movement.

A letter from Seattle

Yoon founded branches of the YKU throughout the U.S. Every year the delegates of each branch met at a yearly conference in either New York or Los Angeles. The atmosphere at these conferences was serious, almost to the point of hostility. First, each region reported their activities and plans. Next, a member, who was appointed his task in advance, reported on the international and national political situation. After the report, all the members engaged in discussion. The highlight of the meeting was Yoon's evaluation.

Yoon did not take notes, yet he remembered every detail of the reports. He critiqued each report, and no flaw escaped his cutting criticism, but Yoon never spoke in anger. During discussion, Yoon refrained from using ornate language. He always spoke plainly. Sometimes, he even used vulgar comparisons and metaphors to make his point. Even those that were being criticized couldn’t help but burst out in laughter.

The most complicated international relations were easily unraveled by Yoon. He said, “International relations isn’t about what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s about economic choice – gain and loss. If you understand what each party is after, you can understand why they make the choices that they do.” Yoon's explanations were easy to comprehend because he spoke in layman’s terms and without jargon. He preferred to speak this way, not because he lacked knowledge of the theories of political criticism, but rather that he simply disliked lofty, pseudo-intelligent speech.

In 1985, a few young men began to meet in Seattle. One of them was Lee Jong-rok. Lee Jong-rok was a self-confessed intellectual snob. The first time Lee met Yoon, he was bewildered by Yoon’s shabby appearance and nasal voice; this was not the political leader that Lee had expected. Yoon looked as scruffy as a country boy. But soon enough Lee became Yoon’s follower and respectfully called him hyung, despite the fact that Yoon was four years younger. Lee was convinced that Yoon was, as Yoon claimed, the fertilizer from which a new world would sprout.

Founding the YKU

By August, 1986, branches of the YKU along with their respective community centers had been founded in L.A., Seattle, Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington D.C. YKU branches were also founded in New England, Dallas, and Denver, but they were dismantled soon after due to difficulty in management.

The requirements to becoming an official YKU member were strict. There were about 300 members in total. In order to start a new branch, the YKU members had to establish their own community center in the area. In theory, only seven or eight members were needed for a new branch, but it was difficult to run a functioning community center with so few people.

Yoon visited Philadelphia for a few months in the hopes of establishing a branch there. This was difficult, however, due to the small Korean population in Philadelphia. There were only about a thousand Korean immigrants, and not many of them were students. Jang Kwang-seon, who was managing a laundromat, played an important role in organizing the Philadelphia branch. He and Im Yong-cheon had been leading a study group, where a few students met to read Korean newspapers. This became the foundation of the YKU branch. Jang Kwang-seon also persuaded the elders of the community, who were distrustful of Yoon at first. He convinced his two younger brothers to join the YKU as well.

Jang Maeng-dan, Im Yong-cheon, Lee Chong-kook, Shin Kyung-hee, and Cheong Seung-jin began fundraising to build the community center. For these YKU members, fundraising was not about receiving donations but contributing their own earnings, even if it meant taking on side jobs. They collected cans and sold second-hand clothes or flowers. In just half a year, they successfully built a community center.

The situation in New England was even worse than in Philadelphia, as there were scarcely any Korean immigrants. However, there was a bigger population of students. A group of fifteen students were already meeting regularly in a study group before Yoon came along, including Jeong Ki-yeol, Jeong Min, Choi Kwan-ho, Seo Hyuk-kyo, Lee Ji-hoon, Kim Hee-sang, Lee Seong-dan, Ryu Cheong-hae, and Kwon Hyeok-beom.

The members of the study group were already aware of the massacre of Gwangju and they knew they had to do something. When Yoon proposed setting up a YKU branch, the students were quick to organize. Ryu Cheong-hae, who was working as a staff at the University of Massachusetts, recollects the day she met Yoon:

I was shocked. This country boy came out of nowhere, but he had a way with words. It was incredible. He was unlike anyone I’d ever met.

In New York as well, there was already a group of students in a study group. After meeting Yoon, these students joined the YKU. The core members were Kang Wan-mo, Kwon Hyuk-beom, Han Ho-seok, and Kim Nan-won. Kang Wan-mo recollects his meeting with Yoon:

I was a student then. I met Yoon for the first time in New York. I was expecting a well-dressed gentleman. When I met him, he was nothing like my expectations. He looked like some laborer, like maybe he should be handling luggage at a bus station. We kept looking around to see if anyone else would show up. We couldn’t believe that that was Yoon. But he continued to upturn our expectations. He changed us. He was a Jesus that walked among us, the Lenin of Korea. Within a year, we set up a YKU branch in New York.

The devoted

The members of the YKU studied day and night, from books they bought from Korea and books that were donated by the members. Yoon also joined the study group sessions and participated in the discussions. The discussions were always centered around action – “What can we do?” Yoon was not a theoretician but an activist.

Yoon was not an agitator, and he wasn’t a confident public speaker either. But he was a good story teller. When Yoon took the stage, he stepped up on the podium with hesitation. But soon, he had the audience hanging on his every word. He knew how to open people’s hearts.

The members of the YKU cherished – and continue to cherish – Yoon, because he changed their way of life. Yoon taught the members to lead by action. He emphasized that every member of the YKU should be an example to his peers. Yoon repeated, “If we want to change the world, first, we must change ourselves.”

And what kind of actions would change the world? Yoon spoke of the little things – when you use the last of the toilet paper, put a new roll in its place. When you eat out, stack the dishes in one pile for the waiter. The trivial lifestyle changes that Yoon suggested touched the lives of those who understood the greater philosophy behind such small acts of care and kindness.

But for Yoon, there was a virtue even greater than kindness. Kim Hee-sook recalled Yoon saying, “Kindness isn’t the most important virtue.” He went onto explain, “Look at the Miss Korea competition. Beauty is only the third criteria – goodness is the second, because goodness is a higher virtue than beauty. But truth is the first and most important criteria. Without truth, kindness means nothing. That’s why we must seek to find the truth.”

He then turned to Miss Kim, and said, “What do you think? If you don’t know the truth, you can’t do anything, but if you know the truth and fail to act on it, then you’re committing a crime!”

Yoon continued, “First change your way of life; then change the world. How can someone who fails to change his own life change the life of others? To become a trustworthy person, remember these principles: Put yourself in the other person’s shoes. Do as you preach. Be responsible and loyal. Lead a diligent and simple life. Be mild-mannered but indignant in the face of injustice. After doing the dishes, clean up the water – even the water on the floor, and water that dripped into places you can’t see. Someone who cleans only what can be seen cannot call himself an activist.”

Yoon lived by these principles. One day, the toilet of the school was clogged with excrement. Yoon volunteered to put his hand into toilet and pull out the excrement.

It was common, even in America, for the elders to be authoritarian. Many were obsessed with hierarchy – some would get angry about the order in which they were greeted. They wanted special privileges according to their age and expected the younger people to run errands.

But Yoon was unaffected by this way of thinking. Shin Kyung-hee, a colleague who later married Yoon, said:

If he [Yoon] had been an authoritarian, it would have been impossible for me to even approach him. I was a rabbit hopping around on a tiger's back. This isn’t to say he wasn’t strict. Yoon was unforgiving, especially during meetings. But he never let anyone lord it over others, including himself. No matter how young a member was, Yoon treated him with respect and kindness. It was easy to become friends with him.”

Yoon also told members to be considerate towards women, people of color, the disabled, and the elderly. Yoon made it a rule to say “Native Americans” instead of “Indians,” and “African Americans” instead of “Blacks.”

Yoon told his followers to let go of their need for outside approval. He challenged them to free themselves from the need to be publicly recognized.

Through Yoon’s hard work, the YKU established a dozen branches and community centers in two years. As planned, each community center had its own name; for instance, the community center in San Jose was called “Korean Education and Service Center,” and the one in New York was called “Minkown (civil rights) Center.”

The community centers of each region received recognition as a nonprofit organization and were exempt from taxes. This made it necessary to keep a list of board of directors. The elders of each region were appointed to these positions, and the members of the YKU served as managers, while other members served as volunteers.

If we go first, they will come along

A number of civic associations were fighting against nuclear weapons in America and Europe. Simultaneously, political groups from weaker nations were making their appeals to the international society. Yoon and the YKU, joined in the movement for international peace. “If we go, they will come, too.” – This was Yoon's slogan for international solidarity.

Yoon started the Foundation for International Solidarity Against Wars and Nuclear Weapons. This international organization was a milestone in the history of the Korean-American progressive movement. Although many politicians had gone into exile overseas while Korea was under Japanese control, no one had founded an organization to promote international solidarity. But Yoon recognized the importance of international, cross-cultural solidarity from the start.

In both Seattle and L.A., Yoon witnessed activism from many different groups of people. A number of nations engaged in their own activities for their country's civil rights. Yoon was also impressed by movements dedicated to ending discrimination in America. He said:

After arriving in America, I witnessed activists from third world countries such as the Republic of South Africa, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Palestine, and the Philippines come together. I also met Americans who were allies to these causes. I learned from the labor movement and the blacks’ civil movement in America.

“To change the world is to change the way people think; to change the way people think is to change language.” This principle led Yoon to coin a new Korean term, meaning “International Solidarity Movement.” He defined the movement as “a movement that aims to mutually support activism in other countries in order to achieve human coexistence and co-prosperity.”

Yoon was enthusiastic about this international solidarity movement. He paved the way for Korean activism on a broader scale. First, members of the YKU began to translate documents into English in order to publicize Korean issues. They also translated English files into Korean to distribute them among Korean immigrants. They published about a dozen different types of leaflets, dealing with matters such as nuclear weapons, American forces in Korea, Korea’s division, human rights in Korea, and Korea’s labor movement. These leaflets were distributed during meetings. They also created and distributed buttons and stickers with their slogans.

They also dealt with these issues in depth; for instance, they manufactured a slideshow titled 'Destruction or Survival', dealing with the issue of the American forces in Korea. They dubbed all sorts of Korean audio-visual material with English dubs. They also produced pictures and banners to raise awareness of the Gwangju Uprising.

Yoon believed that a lobby should pressure the U.S. Congress so that they would not back up the military dictatorship in Korea. To create such a lobby, members of the YKU set up the “Korean information agency in America” in Washington D.C. Originally, there hadn’t been a YKU branch in D.C. because there weren’t a lot of Korean immigrants in the area. But other branches contributed donations to create a branch in D.C.

Given the circumstances, the YKU branch in D.C. had to look for a cheap office. The one they could afford was in the red-light district. It was a dangerous place to be at night. Nonetheless it was the first lobby space acquired by a private Korean organization.

The lobbyists visited the U.S. Congress to raise awareness of the human rights abuses of the military regime in Korea. They also held demonstrations.

The YKU began publishing a paper in English, the <Korea Report>, to distribute it to international associations. <Korea Report> dealt with a wide range of relevant issues in Korea, such as the movement for democracy and unification. The YKU also manufactured and propagated <Korea Today>, which was written in English as well.

Members who had been sent to D.C. had to work full-time. As with all YKU work, none of it was for pay – in fact, the YKU relied on donations from its members. Choi Yang-il, Lee Ji-hoon, Lee Jin-sook, Seo Hyuk-kyo, Hong Jeong-hwa, Seo Jae-jung, Yu Jeong-ae, Lee Seong-ok, and Jeong Seung devoted their youth to this task.

The petition

In April of 1988 the YKU started a petition demanding the removal of nuclear weapons from Korea. It was a part of the movement for peace and unification in Korea.

Since most people travelled by car at night, the signatures had to be collected during the day. Members went around grocery stores, festivals, university campuses, second hand markets, parks, concert halls, and beaches. Collecting signatures was not easy - a YKU member in L.A., Shim In-bo, was thrown out by the police when he went to a university campus to collect signatures. But he didn’t give up. He stood at the gate of the campus and collected signatures into the night. He alone managed to collect four thousand signatures.

Members of New York started a traditional Korean percussion quartet. They would perform at a park, and then request signatures, explaining the cause of their campaign.

One of the YKU members didn’t speak much English, so he went to a beach and drew pictures in the sand. For instance, he drew missiles and a mushroom cloud, and shouted, “Boom! Boom!” Then he would draw a big X over the nuclear weapons and request signatures.

During the fourteen months between May, 1988 to June, 1989, the YKU managed to get hundreds of thousands of signatures. In July, 1989, they went to the Congress, carrying the rolls of paper wrapped in blue cloth. As they delivered these signatures, they were full of hope for a peaceful, reunified Korea.

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

The YKU did not have it easy when it came to funds. They were an active organization, but they only had a handful of offices scattered around America. Managing these offices alone was a significant financial burden. The YKU also had to make room in their budget to participate in international meetings hosted in other countries. Thus, they planned fundraisers appropriate for each season and area, such as the Christmas tree fundraiser.

Winters in the northeast coast of the U.S. were brutal—a continuous series of storms and blizzards. Nonetheless, dozens of YKU members gathered in New York each winter to sell Christmas trees. Starting from November, YKU members kept up their Christmas tree sales for a month. They shivered in the cold and hopped in place trying to raise their body heat, hardly having any time to go to the bathroom. The members who were located in New York were generally in charge of meals. They wanted to ensure that the members who were selling trees in the cold were at least provided a hot meal. They delivered warm soup to each place where the trees were being sold.

One such place was a deli in central Manhattan. The owner of the deli, Kang Byeong-ho, was the treasurer of YKU’s New York branch. He was the one who bought the Christmas trees from wholesalers.

The YKU members delivered each tree that was sold. This was hard work, since the trees were much bigger than a single person. Their work was not over when nighttime came, however. They had to stand shifts 24/7 to make sure the trees would not get stolen. The wind howled until they lost feeling in their ears and noses, but the YKU members could not leave the trees unattended. If anyone tried to steal a tree, they chased them down and took back the tree.

Their efforts paid off. The Christmas tree sales turned a profit of 20,000 dollars in two years. It made a significant contribution to the miscellaneous maintenance fees the YKU had to pay. A part of the profit was used to support the democracy movement happening in Korea.

The Christmas tree sales alone were nott nearly enough to fund the YKU’s activities, however. The YKU members of each region also started odd fundraising projects to contribute. They sold Korean food such as kimchi and bulgogi at Korean gatherings. They also punched button holes in clothing, assembled electronics, and sorted prints for money. The YKU members of L.A. once even featured as extras on a film as a group.

Though some YKU members were well-off doctors or businessmen, most were working blue collar jobs and living in poverty. Many had been unable to finish college. In spite of this, they did not neglect to pay the YKU membership fees. On top of that, some even skipped meals to scrap together money to donate to the YKU. Naturally, this made them poorer and poorer. Even the members who had started out driving fancy cars had to switch to older, used models. Many lived without a single nice piece of furniture in their house and wore the same few pieces of clothing all year long. All the members were becoming like Yoon Han-bong himself.

This lifestyle garnered the YKU members ridicule. They were called beggars, and some even suggested that they were a part of a cult. The YKU members did not heed this sort of criticism at all. They were too busy with their anti-nuclear meetings and educational events to pay attention to what others thought of them.

The YKU’s most incredible feat of international solidarity was the International Peace March. This march was not just about the reunification of North and South Korea – it was the pinnacle of the international solidarity movement headed by the YKU.

The International Peace March

Compared to other organizations, the YKU was smaller and had fewer resources. Despite this, they gained public recognition through their passion and drive. In May of 1986, the YKU successfully petitioned the city of Berkerly, California to declare “The Day of the People of Gwangju” to commemorate the Gwangju Uprising.

The YKU also organized the “International March for the Peace and Unification of the Korean Peninsula.” This march was a monumental event for the Korean progressive movement. It brought together the movement for Korea’s unification and the movement for international peace.

The Festival of Youth and Students was an international festival that was held in a different city. In July of 1989, the 13th Festival of Youth and Students was held in Pyeongyang, North Korea. North Korea invited special guests – Lim Soo-kyung, a representative of the national council of college students of South Korea, as well as 200 members of the international solidarity organization sent by the YKU. The two organizations, YKU and the national council of college students of South Korea, had each sent representatives without prior consultation. As the South Korean media chose to focus on Lim Soo-kyung's visit, the international coalition led by the YKU did not get much attention at the time. Nonetheless, the participation of the international solidarity organization was significant, given the scale and historical context of the unification movement.

Having established an international network through their participation in anti-nuclear and anti-war campaigns, the YKU decided to use the festival as a platform to raise international awareness on Korean issues. Most Americans at the time were not aware that 40,000 U.S. troops, along with nuclear weapons, were stationed in South Korea.

Yoon’s plan was to have YKU representatives organize a march for international peace after the Festival of Youth and Students was over. They were to march from Baekdoo Mountain to the DMZ (panmunjeom). At the same time, the YKU members in the U.S. would march from New York to Washington to deliver their petition to the U.S. Congress.

The YKU had to plan carefully to navigate their way around the U.S. government and the North Korean government. The YKU submitted an official inquiry to the U.S. about their visit to North Korea, but set up their base in England to avoid legal regulations. In England, they set up the ‘Preparatory Committee for the Peaceful Reunification of Korea,’ which organized participants for the march.

The preparatory team was based in London, and Hugh Stephans was the leader. The base in Asia was in Manila City, the one in the Pacific was in Melbourne, and the one in North America was in Washington D.C. Of course, the YKU members in the U.S. did most of the planning and Yoon Han-bong oversaw the entire process. It was decided that the fees for participating in the march would be paid by the individual, but that the YKU would pay part of the fees for participants from third world countries.

Yoon did not want the YKU to take sides between the two Koreas. He insisted that the International Peace March be strictly separated from the Festival of Youth and Students. Thus, the YKU refused to co-host their march with the North Korean government.

After months of preparation, they were ready to begin their march. Before they began, Yoon clarified that the march was hosted not by the YKU, but the International Solidarity Committee. He wanted to make it clear that the march was not exclusive to Koreans – the purpose was to invite “outsiders” to join in and take interest. As to whether or not Lim Soo-kyung, the delegate of the National Council of Students, should march with them, Yoon thought it was a decision best left to her. Since the march was for unified Korea rather than North Korea, Yoon reminded YKU members to be on guard and act cautiously.

The International Peace March was backed by an impressive list of sponsors, including the Green Party of Germany, 70 progressive parties from all over the world, and several organizations for peace and women’s rights.

The YKU sent eight members to Pyeongyang, the capital city of North Korea, in July, 1989. In a press interview, the preparatory committee revealed that there would be a simultaneous peace march in London, England, Manila, Philippines, and Melbourne, Australia in addition to the ones in Pyeongyang and Washington D.C.

Upon arrival at Pyeongyang, the preparatory committee found themselves in conflict with North Korean officials. The committee members insisted on having affiliation with neither North nor South Korea; the International Solidarity Organization, a private organization, would host the entire peace march. But North Korean bureaucrats refused to cooperate. They unilaterally informed the preparatory committee that they would co-host the march, refusing to negotiate.

But Yoon was just as firm and uncompromising. When he received word that North Korea wanted to intervene with the peace march, he commanded the preparatory committee to stand their ground, even at the risk of cancelling the peace march. Though representatives were sent to talk to the North Korean officials, the meeting ended in a deadlock. The YKU members started a sit-in at the Korea Hotel where they were lodged. One member, Yan Young-kook, recollects:

Yoon was, too, very worried. He said, “We are on the brink of a crisis. If we step down, the whole solidarity movement will be ruined. We must block North Korea’s intervention, at any cost.” The whole situation was very tense, and we weren’t getting anywhere by negotiating. That’s why we started the sit-in.

From Baekdoo Mountain to the DMZ

At last, on July 21, the International Peace March began, starting the seven day journey from the top of Baekdoo Mountain to the DMZ. YKU’s traditional percussion quartet led the way. Lee Jong-rok of Seattle, who participated in the march, recalls:

The 13th ' World Festival of Youth and Students' was held in Pyeongyang from July 1st to July 7th, 1989. North Korea was very invested in the success of this event, and had invited youths and students from around the world. That’s when Yoon suggested this almost fantastic idea – to have YKU members march for the peaceful reunification of the Korean Peninsula.

This reckless and absurd plan was solely Yoon’s idea. He planned and executed almost everything himself, keeping many details secret until the last minute. Jeong-min, the captain of the march, and Jeong Ki-yeol, the vice-captain of the march, were let in on the details of the plan only after they were appointed their positions. Every day Yoon gave detailed guidelines to the members – it was almost as if he was there in person. His code of conduct for the YKU during the march went something like this:

1. The YKU is responsible for this march. Act accordingly.
2. The aim of the march is to lay the foundation for peaceful reunification.
3. Do not display the corrupt habits of rich nations in front of North Korean citizens.
4. Show respect towards North Koreans.
5. Stay with the crowd. Don’t act alone.
6. Don’t take photos privately. The only recording allowed is the official video.
7. YKU members must bring up the rear. Don’t lead the march.
8. YKU members must receive permission from the general manager before having contact with the media.
9. Don’t approach Lim Soo-kyung unnecessarily.

After the World Festival of Youth and Students, Jeong Gi-yeol diligently recruited foreigner participants for the march. On July 20, the day the march began, 400 people from 30 countries were present.

There were a total of 270 participants in all - 85 foreign participants from 30 countries, 113 Korean immigrants, and 70 North Koreans. Lim Soo-kyung and Moon Kyi-hyun, a priest, also participated.

The North Korean citizens who witnessed the march were overwhelmingly welcoming and supportive. At every alley that the YKU marched into, the residents lined the streets to wave at them and chant for reunification. Everyone was in tears.

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The participants of the march were touched by the encouragement from the North Korean citizens. Though it was a hot and humid monsoon season, the participants cried out tirelessly for peace and reunification. They cried so much that they hardly had tears left to shed. One participant and member of the YKU New York branch, Kim Gap-song, recalls:

“This was the biggest incident since the Korean War. When the news came on the TV, a bell would ring, and the announcement always started with news about Kim Il-sung. But during the march, there was none of that. The bell would ring, and the news started by covering the march. From the point of view of the North Korean government, the whole event must have been frightening. They try so hard to obscure what life is like for their citizens, and now there was a march witnessing all of it. I cried ‘til my tearducts were dry. Every new person we met along the way was overcome with tears.”

The march from Baekdoo Mountain to Panmunjeom was quite sensational. Just as South Korea's morning news started with a speech from President Cheon Doo-hwan, North Korea's news started with a segment on Premier Kim Il-sung. But during the march, news about Kim Il-sung was moved back so that the march could be covered first. Lim Soo-kyung appeared in the news wearing jeans – this was shocking to North Koreans. Even North Korean officers had to admit that the march was the biggest event since the Korean War.

The International Peace March organized by the YKU could be seen as the pinnacle of Yoon Han-bong’s achievement in the Korean immigrant movement. He managed to orchestrate an event calling for reunification without the aid of the North Korean government or the South Korean government – something that had never been done before, and something that has never been done since.

From New York to Washington

At the same time as the march in North Korea, the march in America began, led by Han Ho-seok. This was a much smaller march of only 40 participants. Many Americans were indifferent, and some were hostile – they shouted “Go back to your own country!” Nonetheless, the march continued, carrying their petition with 110,000 signatures.

Yoon attended neither the march in North Korea nor the march in the U.S. in person. Instead, he stayed in the YKU community center in New York and managed both marches from afar. He barely slept during that week.

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North Korea's march arrived at Panmunjeom on July 27, and the U.S. march arrived in Washington D.C. on the same day. In North Korea, the participants founded the International Solidarity Committee for Peace & Reunification of Korea, and committed to marching every two years. In the U.S., the participants delivered the petition to the U.S. congress. They also opened a contest to promote the end of war in Korea. The contest received international media coverage.

When the march in North Korea arrived at Panmunjeom, something unexpected happened. After the closing ceremony, the participants of the march attempted to go through the Panmunjeom and across the border. When they were stopped, they immediately started a hunger strike. This hunger strike had not been planned in advance, but it was impossible to convince the participants to give up. A total of 65 people, including 10 foreigners, Lim Soo-kyoung, and the Catholic Priest Mun Kyu-hyun who accompanied Lim Soo-kyoung held a 6 day hunger strike.

When the YKU heard of this, the 10 YKU members began a hunger strike as well for 4 days. In the end, Lim Soo-kyoung and Priest Moon Kyu-hyun returned to South Korea by crossing the border, and served time in jail as a result.

The voice of liberation

“Flow, my tears, all my sorrow, my humiliation and indignity”

October 1991, in an auditorium in Northern Ireland, a concert began with this mournful solo. The performance was hosted by the Irish Republic Army (IRA). The armed British troops were on guard right outside the hall. Jeong Seung-jin, a member of the New York YKU branch and the leading performer, was singing on stage. Behind him, there was a slideshow of the photos taken during the Gwangju Uprising. The Irish audience watched, captivated and moved.

Then a traditional Korean skit began, changing the atmosphere entirely. The sense of humor in the satirical representation of the United States made the audience burst into laughter. Anti-nuclear slogans and anti-war slogans, followed by “Yankee go home” were met with a hearty “Bravo!” from the crowd. The Irish people, who had suffered over 20 years of civil war, were sympathetic to the plight of the Korean people. Everyone clapped along to the percussionist quartet.

Since the peace march in 1989, the YKU had committed to having a march every two years. In 1991, as a part of the biannual peace march, they began their tour of Europe. This tour was led by a small committee within the YKU dedicated to sharing Korean culture – there were only ten members in total. The leaders of the committee, Lee Sung-ok and Cheong Seung-eun, planned the European tour carefully. With support from many European groups, they were able to perform 17 times in 6 countries in just 50 days. They also went to Sydney and Melbourne in Australia and performed four times.

Once, after a performance in Paris, a staff member from the Labor Press of North Korea came by and gave them some kimchi. On principle, the YKU were not to receive any support from North Koreans during their tour. Hong Se-wha, a political exile who was visiting the YKU committee advised them to take the kimchi – it was a small gift, after all, not a political move. The YKU members were not sure what they should do. One member, Choi Yong-tak recalled:

We decided to return the kimchi, after a discussion. But I must now confess that we had a little taste first. We hadn’t had kimchi for weeks.

Choi Yong-tak met Yoon in 1990:

About two months later, when I became a member of the YKU, I met Yoon in New York for the first time. I was so drawn to him. To me, Yoon was a man like Ho Chi-minh. He was an incarnation of revolution. Every instant of his life was tied in with the destiny of our country. He was brilliant. Even now, my heart beats faster when I think of him.

In 1990, Yoon Han-bong was 42 years old. He had been in exile for 10 years. Despite opposition and suppression from so many different political figures, Yoon Han-bong was successfully maintaining an organization of 200 to 300 members. In Gwangju, he had been a beloved comrade, and in the U.S., he was a respected leader. This was, in a sense, the highest point of his life.

Despite his active life in the U.S., Yoon always longed for Korea. He had kept to the promises he had made to himself when he entered the U.S. He did not sleep in a bed, and he would not remove his belt even while sleeping. Yoon did not allow himself luxuries. He still smoked crouching in a corner, thinking about his comrades in the democracy movement.

The new way

Ten years after the beginning of the YKU, Yoon proposed a drastic change of direction for the organization. In 1992, the YKU held a contest to promote activism among Korean immigrants. One hundred and fifty members participated in the contest. During the contest, Yoon reported the change of direction.

Gone are the days of revolution. North Korea joining the UN is an admission that maintaining the status quo has become more urgent than the goal of unifying Korea. Unification is now a long-term task, and accordingly, we must turn our focus to the promotion of peaceful disarmament instead.

The wall in Berlin had fallen, and the Cold War era was over. The socialist countries of Europe had collapsed. The days of revolution were gone. Up to this point, the YKU had focused on unification; now Yoon urged them to redirect their energy to advocating for the rights of Koreans in the U.S.

We’re fighting in the long run now. We need to incorporate activism into our everyday life. All members should think of long term goals and work on them daily.

The businessman should aim for success. The tradesman should aim to specialize. He who gave up his studies to join the movement should return to school. He who left his family for the sake of the movement should return to his family. Meanwhile, Yoon added, keep alive your passion for justice and truth.

Yoon argued that returning to their daily lives, rebuilding connections, and advocating for the rights of Korean immigrants was the way to make their movement sustainable. YKU members returned to school, resumed their studies, and dedicated time to looking after themselves and their health.

Gang Wan-mo was a key figure of the YKU. He returned to University and eventually became an international lawyer. He said:

This change in direction opened up new opportunities for many members. There were, of course, some who were angry. They thought the new way was a betrayal. They thought Yoon was abandoning the movement. But as I saw it, the new way wasn’t the end of a movement – it was the beginning of a new one.

Coming back home

When Kim Young-sam was elected as president, returning to Korea became a possibility for Yoon. Kim Young-sam was an important political figure who had fought alongside Kim Dae-jung for establishing democracy in Korea. It seemed likely that he would be open to the possibility of allowing Yoon to return.

Yoon wished to return to Korea to see his mother, but there was not much he could do. Around that time, several comrades in Gwangju, such as Hwang Kwang-woo, started to campaign for Yoon’s return. Hwang and his colleagues collected signatures. Through their diligence and drive, they were able to submit 70,000 signatures to the National Assembly.

On May 12, 1993, Yoon was at the YKU community center in L.A. As always, his day had been busy. In the afternoon, he received a phone call from a newspaper in Korea. He listened in shock as the voice on the other end of the line told him that President Kim had permitted Yoon’s return to Korea.

Yoon felt stunned. How could he have expected for something so big to happen so suddenly? Immediately, calls poured in from news organizations, friends, and family.

Yoon did not have time to discuss the possibility of moving back to Korea with all branches of the YKU. He asked the branches to discuss the matter among themselves and let him know the consensus by fax. He thought it would be best to temporarily return to Gwangju – after his visit, he would be able to make a more permanent decision.

Yoon went out to the backyard of the school. He looked over the garden – the lettuce, cucumber, pumpkin, spinach, leeks, chives, balsamina, and rose moss. In times of distress, Yoon had found peace in looking after the plants in the yard. Crouching in silence, he had weeded, watered, and nurtured them. He had made supports for peppers and webs for the cucumber and pumpkin vines to climb on. With him gone, who would look after the flowers and vegetables?

On the morning of May 19, 1993, Yoon set off to the airport, trying to hide his tears. Dr. Choi Jin-hwan and Gang Wan-mo accompanied him to Gwangju. Members who had come to see him off waved a tearful goodbye. Yoon recalled:

Trying to hide tears, I went through airport security. Whenever I’d seen off my guests at the airport, I hoped the day would come when I would also get to return to Korea. I was envious of them as they walked through the gates and into security – and now, I was finally passing through the same gate myself.

Yoon had spent 12 years in exile – he had come to America 34 years old and now he was a middle aged man, 46 years old. On the plane, Yoon broke down in tears. “After the plane took off, so many faces flickered in my memory. It took me at least a couple hours to return to reality. I was returning to my beloved homeland. I felt overwhelmed.”