This is an iconic picture——A black and white photoA student with blood on his body wasThe first photo taken in 1980 through the military cordon around Gwangju, South Korea, revealed the brutal attack on what became known as theGwangju Democratization Movementbrutal repression.
However, for many years, the identity of the photographer has remained a secret. The man who has always kept a low profile is namedLuo Gengze(sound).
Out of dissatisfaction with the military junta and its leadersChun Doo-hwanThe fear ofLuo Gengze did not dare to claim that he was the photographer of this and other disturbing photos of Gwangju. Chun Doo-hwan’s crackdown in Gwangju left hundreds dead or missing.The darkest chapter in South Korea’s long struggle against dictatorship. His rule ended in 1988. Now, many South Koreans supportConstitutional Amendmentrecognizing the role of Gwangju in South Korea’s democratization process. However, most people have never heard of it.Luo Gengze.
In an interview in Gwangju, Mr. Luo, 75, seemed unfazed by the lack of recognition he had received, having worked as a photojournalist in the city for four decades until his retirement in 2007. But the images of that fateful spring still haunted him.
“South Korean democracy began in Gwangju,” he said. “I just did the best I could for the people of Gwangju.”
Na Kyung Taek
Na Kyung Taek
Na Kyung Taek
Luo Keun-taek was born in Naju, near Gwangju, in 1949 as the only son of a farming family with five older sisters. After graduating from high school, he joined Jeonnam Maeil, one of the two major daily newspapers in Gwangju, in 1967.
Incumbent PresidentPark Chung-heeVisiting the region during a drought, it happened to rain, and two newspapers praised the military strongman as the “Rainmaker” with identical headlines on their front pages.The editor-in-chief of Luo Gengze’s newspaper boasted that his headlines were bigger than those of his opponents.
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“We had three photographers at the newspaper, but only two cameras,” Luo Gengze recalled. “As soon as one of us came back to the office, the other would take the camera and go out.”
Park Chung-hee was assassinated in late 1979, ending his 18-year rule, and another army general, Chun Doo-hwan, seized power. In May of the following year, Chun banned all political activity, closed schools, and arrested dissidents. When the people of Gwangju rallied against martial law, he sent in tanks and paratroopers.
A video of former President Chun Doo-hwan testifying before Congress was shown at an exhibition in Gwangju.
A video of former President Chun Doo-hwan testifying before Congress was shown at an exhibition in Gwangju. Youngrae Kim for The New York Times
On May 18, while Mr. Luo was attending Sunday Mass in the suburbs, people in Gwangju reported riots. Thus began a 10-day uprising during which soldiers shot at protesters and citizens fought back with rocks and rifles stolen from police stations.
Luo Gengze found the city center filled with tear gas, and he couldn’t take pictures because he didn’t have a gas mask. The next day, he saw a radio station car on fire. Under the censorship of martial law, local media vilified the protesters as “mobs” but did not report the military’s brutality. Angry people then set fire to two TV stations.
“I’m afraid of the soldiers, and I’m also afraid of the protesters,” Mr. Luo said. “When they see reporters, their eyes are filled with murderous intent.”
Luo Gengze hid on the fifth floor of a building and filmed everything that happened on the street: a civilian was forced to kneel in front of a soldier with a gun, a man and a woman were dragged away by paratroopers with blood on their heads, and a student was beaten with a stick by a paratrooper wearing a military doctor’s Red Cross armband.
Luo Gengze ran back to the Evening News, only to find that the newspaper could not publish any news about the crackdown. When the reporter compiled a report, the editors confiscated it and destroyed the layout.
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“We saw citizens being dragged away like dogs and slaughtered, but we couldn’t report anything about them,” the journalists said in a statement.Joint resignation letterWrote in.
Luo Gengze and a sympathetic editor decided to give his photos to foreign news media.
Luo Gengze saw a paratrooper medic hitting a student with a stick at the scene, and he captured this moment in a famous photo.
Luo Gengze saw a paratrooper medic hitting a student with a stick at the scene, and he captured this moment in a famous photo. Youngrae Kim for The New York Times
Tony Chung, a photographer for United Press International, was in Seoul when two reporters from Gwangju secretly contacted him with two envelopes, one for Chung and the other for the Associated Press in Seoul. Each envelope contained photos taken by Luo Gengze and Shin Bok-jin, a photographer for Jeonnam Ilbo, another Gwangju daily.
Tony Chung, a retired man living in South Seoul, said in a telephone interview that there were only brief reports of the Gwangju “riots” at the time. But the photos contradicted the government’s account because they bore witness to the military’s brutality.
Tony Zheng didn’t know who took the photo and didn’t ask. He said the photographer’s identity had to be protected for their safety.
The first of several photos Zheng circulated abroad was that of a medic wielding a club. The government’s information minister accused him of circulating a “fake” photo, and an intelligence agent warned Zheng to be careful at night. Zheng was undeterred. Years later, in 1987, he took a photo for Reuters of students killed in an anti-government protest.photohelping to push South Korea’s democratization process to a climax.
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“The photos from Gwangju told the truth.Foreign CorrespondentsGet there,” said 84-year-old Tony Cheng.
In 1980, although his newspaper had closed, Luo Gengze continued to take photos until more journalists, including Tony Zheng, arrived in Gwangju. Together, they documented the city’s experience in indelible images. Citizens gathered around those killed by soldiers. Some burned effigies of “murderer Chun Doo-hwan.” Military jeeps and trucks were seized. Paratroopers drove in armored vehicles, surrounded and beat students huddled in the street. Protesters lay in pools of blood. Mothers wept in front of rows of coffins.
The Mangwol-dong Cemetery in Gwangju. Once a burial site for victims of military repression, it later became a place to commemorate the martyrs of the Korean democracy movement.
The Mangwol-dong Cemetery in Gwangju. Once a burial site for victims of military repression, it later became a place to commemorate the martyrs of the Korean democracy movement. Youngrae Kim for The New York Times
At night, Luo Gengze hid in a bullet-riddled building, hungry and wary of military snipers. Protesters once grabbed him by the collar and asked him, “What kind of reporter are you to not publish what you saw?”
“I didn’t know how to make them understand that I wanted to document it with my camera, even if the photos couldn’t be published,” he said.
Today, the photos taken by Mr. Roh and another newspaper photographer, Shin Bok-jin, who died in 2010, remain almost the only ones documenting the early days of the unrest, said Mr. Jang Je-geun, an editor who has published three books on the Gwangju uprising.
The uprising ended on May 27 when paratroopers stormed City Hall, where protesters, including high school students, made a last stand with rifles and only a few rounds of ammunition each. As the early morning attack began, a female student named Park Young-soon shouted through a loudspeaker on the roof: “Gwangju citizens, please don’t forget us.”
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According to official statistics, nearly 200 people died in Gwangju, including about 20 soldiers, half of whom were killed by friendly fire. Civilian groups say the death toll is much higher.
Luo Gengze’s newspaper resumed publication six days after the massacrebut still could not mention these events. The newspaper published a poem describing a city “abandoned by God and birds”, but most of the content was censored by the censors.Deletion.Luo Gengzeand other journalists visited the graves of the victims andGive flowers to express apology.
Luo Gengze holds a book of his photographs at his home in Gwangju. His photos remain among the few that document the first days of the uprising.
Luo Gengze holds a book of his photographs at his home in Gwangju. His photos remain among the few that document the first days of the uprising. Youngrae Kim for The New York Times
Luo Gengze hid the negatives in the ceiling of his apartment because the military was looking for the source of the baton-wielding paratroopers. When the police came to his house and asked for copies of all the photos, he hid the sensitive photos.
Gwangju set off a wave of protests across South Korea, forcing the government to agree to democratic reforms in the late 1980s. The photos that Ro Geun-taek had hidden were eventually shown in public exhibitions and used as evidence in a parliamentary inquiry into the military crackdown. But he was not identified as the source of the photos until 1990, when the Catholic Church honored him for his courage.
In 2011, a file on the Gwangju Uprising—including Luo Gengze2000 photos ofincomeUNESCO’s Memory of the World programme, which aims to preserve important documentary heritage around the world.
Luo Gengze, who is married with three grown daughters, worked at a health center for the elderly for several years after leaving journalism. But he never got over the pain he felt in Gwangju.
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Today, right-wing extremists are still spreading the military’sFalse Informationsaying the Gwangju “riot” was caused by “hooligans” and “Instigated by “communists”. After his retirement, Luo Gengze has been giving lectures and participating in photography exhibitions to help clarify the facts.
Looking back on the past, Luo Gengze has one regret.
On the fourth day of the uprising, he found himself surrounded by paratroopers, his camera tucked under his shirt. He heard a captain repeating orders over the radio to shoot into the crowd. As Luo Gengze fled for his life, no one took photos of the mass shooting.
“I should have taken out my camera,” he said, “but if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here today.”
Democracy Square in Gwangju this month. Luo Gengze once hid on the fifth floor of the 245th Quanri Building (the building with the lights in the middle) to take his famous photo.
Democracy Square in Gwangju this month. Luo Gengze once hid on the fifth floor of the 245th Quanri Building (the building with the lights in the middle) to take his famous photo. Youngrae Kim for The New York Times