May 18: Lasting Effects on a Life

By David Dolinger

II have thought long and hard about what I could write for you, how I could regal you in tales about Gwangju and Jeollanam-do in the late 1970s and, perhaps, at a later time I will. However, I thought that since it has been forty-two years, and those of us who were there are getting grey or greyer, with fewer and fewer of us every year, I thought that I would talk a little about what does not seem to get focused on or, when it does, gets labeled and not really thought about. That is the lasting effect of 5.18 on those of us that were there.

I lost many a friend and acquaintance in May of 1980. Some I know gave their lives, and I can visit them at the 5.18 National Cemetery. Some I have been lucky enough to meet again. But it is the others I have never been able to meet again, the ones that I have no idea what happened to, that trouble me. After 5.18, I knew that if I contacted or met someone, they would be questioned by the police or the KCIA. I saw the consequences of violence on the human form, saw true courage and sacrifice from others, saw people come together, but I also saw the consequences of governments and how in real-time historical events were marginalized.

I cannot say that any of us had any idea as to how our lives would end up when we were in our youth. Hopefully, we have taken our lives one day at a time and let our experiences guide us down a path that has been fulfilling and meaningful. One can be affected by state-sponsored violence in multiple manners, such as being a witness to or recipient of it; it can also manifest itself as both physical and psychological violence. Both can have long-term effects on a young, impressionable youth’s approach to life. I can provide vivid detail the long-lasting effects of witnessing and being threatened with violence.

There is the mental side of the equation. For me, this was extended by my own government: being forced to resign from the Peace Corps, but even worse, being threatened to never discuss with others what I had observed, especially with other volunteers. This was only topped by the threat of violence, as I was informed that the U.S. government could no longer guarantee my safety and that the KCIA had already stated to the U.S. officials that something could happen if I talked or did not leave the country immediately.

I did not fear “having an accident.” It was still a threat I knew existed, as I was being watched. The mental violence continued until I left Korea in July of 1981. I did not trust people, Americans or Koreans, unless I had known them prior to 5.18.

While 5.18 has brought a lot of pain to my life, pain that I still have a hard time dealing with, it has caused me to focus, to take what I saw, what I witnessed, and the sacrifice of others, to heart. I have taken those examples and applied them to my life and to the way I help to raise my son. I have been lucky to work in a field that I find both fulfilling and frustrating, but one that I am in sync with: the field of diagnostics for diseases.

During my life, I have never forgotten 5.18, the people that I met, nor the people I lost. I see them every day, and they have driven me to give my all in the field of diagnostics and, when I have the

▲ The May 18 Democratic Plaza with the old Provincial Office building in the background. (Photograph by Asia Culture Center)

ability, to ensure that the products that I develop have an impact and can be accessed by all.

The most powerful thing that the people of Gwangju gave me during 5.18 was a birth, an identity, and, as I was told in the Provincial Office building, Gwangju citizenship. That is the proudest aspect of 5.18. I have always doubted myself, especially about 5.18. I have always felt that I could have and should have done even more. On the morning of the 27th, as the military attacked and there were pleas for the citizens to take to the streets and not to forget their colleagues in the Provincial Office building, I was dissuaded from going there. I thought that it would make a statement if a foreigner were willing to sit in front of the Provincial Office buildings as a form of protest. I have always regretted not making my way there, but I have to keep going.

I am reminded of a quote from Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird: “I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.” To provide context, Atticus says this to his daughter, Jem, to contradict

▲ Sobering rows upon rows, showing the names and faces of martyrs and innocents at the May 18 National Cemetery. (Photograph by Gwynevieve Farabee.) her image of courage, which is wrapped around hypermasculinity and violence. This helps Jem to understand that courage is the ability to persist through times of difficulty.

The Author

David Dolinger has his PhD in microbiology and works in the diagnostics industry developing products for the democratization of healthcare. David first came to Korea and Gwangju as a Peace Corps volunteer over 44 years ago. His experiences in Jeollanamdo, Gwangju, and Yeongam, and his involvement in the 5.18 movement have helped him focus his life’s work.