A History of Korea Read online

  Historiography, or the study and method of historical inquiry, is thus featured prominently, with most chapters alluding to a historiographical debate, usually by connecting the topic at hand to larger perspectives on Korean history. Each chapter acts, then, as an intervention, of varying degrees, in these considerations of historical meaning. The historiographical issues are also critical because they reflect contemporary circumstances in Korea. While always a point of contention (and control), the historical consciousness of Koreans is key to understanding Korea today; in both the North and the South, Koreans are fully aware that they are the products of their past, from the ancient to most recent times. This book attempts to demonstrate why.

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  Kogury and Ancient Korea

  CHRONOLOGY

  108 BCE Establishment of Han dynasty commanderies on Korean Peninsula

  1st c. BCE Founding of Kogury

  3rd–4th c. CE Emergence of Paekche and Silla kingdoms

  581 Founding of the Sui dynasty in China

  598 First Sui invasion of Kogury

  612 Sui dynasty campaign of 1 million soldiers against Kogury

  618 Fall of Sui, founding of Tang dynasty in China

  668 Defeat of Kogury at hands of joint Silla-Tang forces

  THE GREAT BATTLE OF SALSU RIVER, 612

  In the first half of the year 612, China attempted to conquer a pesky kingdom on its northeastern border and threw at this effort the full might of its resources and skill. The decisive battle in this campaign took place in what has come to be known in Korea as the “Great Battle of Salsu River,” when the outmanned defenders of the Kogury kingdom maneuvered the invading army into a death trap that left barely 3000 Chinese survivors out of an initial force of over 1 million soldiers. The utter failure that the Chinese Sui dynasty experienced in what should have been an easy victory does not enjoy major coverage in China’s long historical lore, but in Korea this event has been considered the breakthrough for a nascent civilization, when it withstood the first of many major threats to its existence from the continent.

  The Kogury kingdom (first century BCE to seventh century CE), the earliest political entity on the Korean peninsula supported by substantial

  and reliable historical records, ruled territory extending from the middle of the peninsula to Manchuria at the height of its powers in the late sixth century. This geographical dominion, together with historical evidence of its military prowess, its cultural achievements, and its forms of political and religious authority, has led to the widespread and official perception of this kingdom (in both North and, interestingly, South Korea) as the great representative of early Korean civilization. This identification of Korea with Kogury (from which the name “Korea” itself is derived) has grown even more acute recently as a backlash against recent Chinese efforts to insert this kingdom into China’s own historical trajectory. Such an uneasy relationship with China, which undergirds a panoply of issues regarding Korean history and identity, has characterized Korea’s existence since the very beginning, a beginning that Koreans believe even pre-dated Kogury. The earliest years of Korean civilization are shrouded in sacred myths that invoke familiar themes (progenitor from heavenly descent, early trials and tribulations, etc.) but also speak to distinctive features of Korean identity, especially in relation to the dominant civilization on the continent, China.

  ANCIENT KOREA AND KOGURY

  Kogury as a coherent political entity appears to have materialized out of the consolidation of proto-states and statelets in the first century BCE, long after the purported foundation of Korean civilization itself, according to official and conventional histories. Indeed the Korean people supposedly began with the mythical progenitor, Tan’gun, born through the mating of the son of the presiding god over the universe who had taken human form, and a bear transformed into a woman. This legend, the earliest extant version of which dates to the thirteenth century, relates that Tan’gun established the state of “Chosn” in the northern reaches of the peninsula and extending well into Manchuria. The curious precision of the date of this founding, 2333 BCE (Tan’gun is credited with a reign over Chosn lasting over 1500 years), has given license to round up the age of Korean civilization in today’s common parlance to 5000 years. Chosn, or “Old Chosn” as it is referred to today, supposedly gave way to smaller states that developed more features of higher civilization on the peninsula. Needless to say, there is very little historical documentation confirming these early states except for the occasional mention in ancient Chinese histories, which, with a few exceptions, acknowledged these polities as little more than barbarian tribes. The faint historical support for these legends should lead us to doubt their accuracy, but they should not lead us to dismiss the value of these foundation myths themselves.

  For one, these stories tell us much about the folk religion on the peninsula and its place in the formation of these societies. The most common element to the foundation myths of all of these early states on the peninsula, including that of Kogury, is the birth of the founder from an animalistic element, such as a bear or an egg. Mythologists detect in such features the power of the native religion of Shamanism, which perceives the natural world as infused with spirits that affect human life and can be appeased only through a priestly shaman, the liaison to the spirit world. As in many other early civilizations, the priest who claimed access to the spirits (or gods) enjoyed political power as well, and this appears to be reflected in the mythologies of these early states. Tan’gun, with his parentage in the spirit world, can be considered the embodiment of the first Great Shaman, and the same could be said for Chumong, the mythical progenitor of Kogury, who is said to have hatched from an egg.

  The foundation myths also suggest a strong consciousness of the well-established civilization on the continent, that of China. The best-known version of the Tan’gun myth, for example, recites that Tan’gun introduced administrative capacities to govern his realm. This suggests the need to legitimate this civilization as worthy of both Chinese-derived recognition, on the one hand, and autonomy from China on the other. Indeed, Korea’s ability to resist absorption into China while benefiting from the Middle Kingdom’s cultural influence has been central to Korea’s existence since the earliest times. This theme was exemplified by the well-known story, eventually integrated into the “Old Chosn” narrative, that Tan’gun was succeeded by a sage named Kija, a refugee from Chou dynasty China, in the centuries before Kogury came into being. Kija represented the authenticating presence of Chinese civilization, and until the twentieth century Koreans commonly believed that Tan’gun bestowed upon Korea its people and basic culture, while Kija gave Korea its high culture—and, presumably, standing as a legitimate civilization. Nationalist sentiment in the modern era has diminished Kija’s place today to the point of near extinction, but unquestionably, whether Kija was real or fictitious, he symbolized the powerful self-consciousness vis-à-vis China from the earliest times of Korean civilization.

  More historically tenable is the struggle Kogury waged, in its formative years, against the Chinese military presence on the Korean peninsula. In the corridor between the peninsula and northeast China, the Chinese Han dynasty established four “commanderies” that ruled over parts of the peninsula and Manchuria, much as modern imperial powers governed their colonies. Like their contemporary Roman counterparts, these Chinese colonies transmitted the fruits of a more advanced culture and technology to the “barbarians,” but they also had an uneasy relationship with these tribes, whom they both nominally ruled and kept a wary distance from. Eventually the Lelang (Korean: Nangnang) Commandery, centered around present-day Pyongyang, would establish itself as the most stable and enduring of China’s colonial administrations on the peninsula. And the kingdom of Kogury constituted the Korean counterpart providing the most consistent challenge to Chinese dominion. While the Lelang Commandery survived the fall of the Han dynasty itself, in the early fourth century Kogury overran i
t. Soon Kogury had to contend with competing kingdoms on the peninsula that had undergone much the same process of consolidation from tribal confederations. All these early kingdoms, from their adoption of Buddhism and Chinese writing to their mimicking of Confucian administrative patterns, reflected the blend of Chinese cultural influence and longstanding peninsular cultural behaviors. Among them, Kogury, thanks to its geographical proximity to China, remained the most wary of, even hostile to, Chinese influence.

  THE RISE AND FALL OF KOGURY

  Kogury seems not to have taken well to the notion of “Eastern Barbarians,” the original Chinese moniker for the peoples of the peninsula that eventually became a self-deprecating term of prestige for Koreans, who considered themselves “first among seconds” in relation to other peoples surrounding China. After the fall of the Han dynasty in the early third century, China itself underwent four centuries of fragmentation, and Kogury took advantage of this situation to grow increasingly powerful in northeast Asia and dominant on the peninsula. The martial vigor, economic vitality, and cultural advancement of this kingdom, so visible in the numerous tomb paintings still extant, gives a good inkling of the impressive political and military power that Kogury amassed. The other major polities on the peninsula—Paekche, Kaya, and Silla (see next chapter)—were much younger and, until the latter part of the sixth century, left to fight among themselves for the southern half of the peninsula, while Kogury’s dominion extended all the way to the far reaches of Manchuria. An early peak of Kogury power was achieved at the turn of the fifth century under the reign of King Kwanggaet’o, whose exploits in pushing the boundaries of Kogury’s dominion in all directions befit his name, which means “extender of territory.” Kogury, however, did not seek conquest of the entire peninsula, despite the perpetual condition of competition and struggle among the kingdoms. At times it offered aid, such as to Silla when invaders from the Japanese archipelago harassed the southeastern region. At other times the Kogury court sent its own cultural missionaries—to a nascent kingdom in Japan, for example—to transmit Buddhism, the arts, architecture, and other fruits of high culture. Kogury was, in short, the great power on the peninsula, indeed of the entire northeast Asian region, and this was to last until the latter half of the sixth century, when developments both on the peninsula and in China threatened this status.

  Kogury’s contestation for power achieved some notable gains, and in fact the cessation of ongoing hostilities with the people on the mainland allowed Kogury to turn its attention to expanding its reach into the peninsula. This transition was apparent in the early fifth century, when the capital was moved from a locale in Manchuria to Pyongyang, former site of the headquarters of the Han commandery of Lelang and subsequently one of the regional capitals of Kogury. Henceforth Pyongyang would cement its standing as a center of Korean civilization, even when it no longer functioned as the capital in subsequent dynasties. (North Korea’s claim of Pyongyang as the proper locale of Korea’s capital, then, is strongly supported by history.) Kogury did not trample across the peninsula, however, and the balance of power was maintained when Paekche and Silla, by now the other two remaining kingdoms, entered into a semi-formal alliance in the fifth century to check Kogury. Henceforth the borders between these three ebbed and flowed. Even Paekche, better known for its cultural achievements than for its martial prowess, managed to gain territorial victories. It was the prickly, relatively late-blooming kingdom of Silla, however, that began to enjoy advances in this tripartite rivalry by the middle of the sixth century, which would not have endangered Kogury had it not been for the simultaneously threatening circumstances brewing in China.

  In the year 581, after nearly four centuries of fragmentation, China was reunified by the Sui dynasty. Soon thereafter the Sui turned to one of the most nettlesome matters that had plagued Chinese polities, namely, what to do about the feisty kingdom to its northeast, Kogury. The early years of the Sui witnessed an effort on both sides to establish a working relationship, but soon the age-old mistrust, coupled with internal developments within Kogury, fueled a downward spiral in relations. As with its drives to extend the Grand Canal and to fortify the Great Wall, the Sui dynasty took a heavy-handed approach to the Korea question. And as with these other campaigns, the efforts to conquer Kogury would contribute to the short life span of the Sui polity itself. In response to Kogury’s advances into the western banks of the Liao River, the first Chinese invasion attempt came in 598, amassing a force of 300,000 naval and ground soldiers that became bogged down in bad weather and worse luck on their way to the peninsula.

  The heavy losses suffered by the Sui forces in 598 would pale in comparison to the calamities of the next major invasion attempt in 612, which would end with defeat at the Battle of Salsu River. The Chinese force mobilized for this campaign in the early part of the year was staggering in scale: 1,133,800 in soldiers alone, not counting the accompanying forces to move and feed them. The historical records recount that the original six divisions of fighters marching together stretched for thirty miles. These armies managed eventually to overcome the Kogury forces in crossing the Liao River and penetrating the Kogury foothold in the Liaodong region of Manchuria. The Chinese, however, suffered enormous casualties and other losses (through, for example, sickness and runaways), enabling Kogury not only to stave off conquest but also to inflict severe damage to the attackers. In its siege of the Kogury capital of Pyongyang, the Sui forces, severely weakened in morale and supplies, penetrated the outer walls of the city, but the Kogury defenders held off the attackers long enough to negotiate a peace settlement. This agreement would ostensibly bring about Kogury’s capitulation and entrance into a subordinate tributary relationship with the Sui emperor, in return for Chinese withdrawal from the peninsula.

  The Kogury commander assigned to relay this message to the Sui forces, lchi Mundk, would go down in Korean historical lore as one of its most heroic figures, not for negotiating a surrender to the Chinese—for this was but a ploy—but for destroying the Sui army during its slow retreat back to China. As it trod northward along the northwestern coast of the peninsula and found its way to the Salsu River (known as the Ch’ngch’n River today), lchi readied his troops. As the Sui soldiers crossed the river, the Kogury forces unleashed a barrage of attacks that utterly destroyed the Chinese army. Among the strategies deployed was the releasing of dammed water up-river that overwhelmed many of the Chinese soldiers. The Korean historical records note that the Sui army, which had begun with over 300,000 soldiers laying siege to Pyongyang, numbered a mere 2700 when it reached Liaodong several weeks later. It would go down as one of the monumental defeats in world history; rarely had such an enormous force—beginning with over a million soldiers—suffered such a devastating defeat from a severely outmanned counterpart. For the Kogury, and for Koreans looking back on their history of constant suffering at the hands of foreign invaders, this episode constituted a victory of epic proportions.

  The stupendous scale of this defeat did not deter the Sui emperor, however, from launching another invasion the next year, and yet another in 614. Both subsequent efforts also failed to conquer Kogury, but the kingdom was undoubtedly weakened by these campaigns. The Sui dynasty, though, also paid a price; it began to collapse shortly thereafter, partly because of the enormous cost of these conquest attempts. The succeeding unified Chinese dynasty, the Tang, followed up with campaigns of its own in the 640s, but these, too, met with failure due to fierce resistance under the direction of the military dictator of Kogury, Yn Kaesomun. It was evident that the Chinese would not be able to destroy Kogury on their own, and indeed it took an alliance with the peninsular kingdom of Silla, which had chafed at Kogury’s imposing presence, for this to take place. The political unification of the Korean peninsula would finally come in 668 through the destruction of Kogury at the hands of the joint Silla-Tang forces.

  The wall paintings of the Kogury tombs

  The relative dearth of written documentation about Kogury is comp
ensated by the wondrously vivid details of the wall paintings found in more than a hundred tombs around the major Kogury settlements, in particular the Liaodong area and the capitals of Pyongyang and Kungnaesng, on the banks of the upper Yalu River. These extraordinary paintings visually expound upon what the textual evidence hints at: a vigorous, sophisticated, and advanced civilization.

  That these paintings exist at all tells us that Kogury was a highly stratified society with a powerful and wealthy aristocracy, the highest members of whom, along with the royal families, left this world encased in elaborately decorated tombs. The paintings on the tomb walls usually depict the buried person himself (or herself), accompanied by attendees drawn to smaller size but equally colorful in their dress. Other scenes testify to a ruling order that was not only glamorous but martial in orientation, with depictions of muscled strongmen that celebrate vigor and strength, battle scenes of elaborately clad warriors, and hunting scenes with immaculately dressed warriors on horseback aiming their bows and arrows at leaping deer and tigers. Great skill in archery and horseback riding, indeed, would constitute signal features of Korean military culture thereafter.

  The wall paintings also provide a strong indication of how the Kogury people, or at least its ruling class, viewed the greater cosmos, and how sophisticatedly the arts and architecture reflected this cosmology. Wondrous spirits abound, including the “four guardian deities” (sasin) of ancient East Asian folklore. There are also depictions of human-like figures in flowing robes representing the gods of the earth, moon, sun, and fire. Buddhist paintings tell us that this imported, systematic, and textual religion was making its presence felt in the religious order, likely melding with native folk practices and boasting an understanding of the movement of the heavens, as represented in the star charts painted onto the walls. Art was not limited just to the service of Kogury cosmology, though, as we see in the depictions of musical and dance performances and other scenes of a sophisticated aristocratic sensibility.