Sewol, 2018

Some photos I took from the Sewol Exhibit in Gwanghwamun Square, 4/15~16, 2018. Some were published on Korea Exposé on April 16, 2018.

It’s been seven years since Sewol sank. Three years since this reporting. I am ashamed to admit that I still cannot read much of the family testimony. I am overcome with anger, despair, guilt, dread… and to ride out these emotions to an unforeseeable end seems like an act of appropriative consumption—of consuming this historical tragedy for some sort of personal catharsis / revelation.

And so I mourn alone. At the time, I could take these photos by letting my professional ethics (journalistic obligation, capturing the lives and emotions of others) override my personal ethics (do I dare involve myself in public mourning?).

I find that some tragedies are too much to even ponder. My “verdict” or “conclusion” means nothing.

We memorialize the lost in ways we find beautiful. Memories live on through images, through the emotions they evoke in viewers. What does an arch symbolize? I remember many people walking through this arch, taking pictures of… pictures of the deceased.

Who do we mourn, and for whom?

Only after completing my military service do I recognize the gravity of what this young soldier was doing. In a society that has politicized Sewol to the extreme, and an institution that forbids “political expression” of soldiers, a simple act of mourning for this young man could have been reported and construed as “political,” landing him in some serious trouble.

In the most value-neutral way possible, life goes on. Some people take the time out of their days to remember Sewol, some don’t.

There are days when Sewol seems like a distant memory. A luxury afforded by distance, surely.

Will we ever assess the long-term ramifications of Sewol? Public health studies, psychiatric evaluations, changes in safety measures… all the evidence in the world would feel insufficient.