Sub)standard Practice : Urban Redevelopment’s Sudden Fall from Obscurity

(Sub)standard Practice

Urban Redevelopment’s Sudden Fall from Obscurity

By Isaiah Winters

There’s so much one could say about the recent collapse of a five-story building in Hak-dong, Gwangju. With nine dead and eight injured, it’s hard to know where to start picking up the pieces. To provide some context, the ill-fated neighborhood is nearing the end of a long, arduous redevelopment process for the sake of unaffordable high-rise apartments. The Gwangju News has been there on multiple occasions to give this erasure of history some of the spotlight it deserves, but urban redevelopment has proven to be a stubbornly anti-viral topic – that is, until June 9, 2021.

About an hour after the collapse had occurred, I got a strange phone call from my wife. She just wanted to hear my voice and know that I was safe. At the time, I was finishing up my interview with Kang Dongsu, the hanok restorer featured in this issue’s Lost in Gwangju, so I assured her all was well and that I’d soon be home for dinner. “Did you hear about Hak-dong?” she added earnestly. I said I hadn’t, and then she let me go. Over dinner, I learned of the collapse and my wife’s ensuing panic. She knows how often I visit the area for photography and therefore had a reasonable fear that I’d been nearby when it happened.

In fact, we’d been there together with our close friends Ryan Berkebile and Sounion Hong to take photos just ten days prior. During that visit, I got a very close look at demolition methods used on the Gwangju Apartments just a few hundred meters from where the disaster later struck. In the hours following the collapse, I tried to make sense of it all by comparing images of the disaster site with my most recent photos. The main commonality that stood out was the use of what I call “rubble ramps.” Basically, an excavator begins clawing at one part of a building and then, as bits of concrete, rebar, and whatever else cascade down to the ground, a pile forms. This pile creates a demolition earthwork of sorts that the excavators climb on top of to demolish additional parts of the building previously out of reach. Over time, these mounds can become formidable.

What likely happened is that, after the back of the building had been clawed away, leaving only the flimsy façade and portions of the sides intact, the ever-growing force exerted by the enormous “rubble ramp” plus the constant battering of excavators eventually proved too much for the feeble structure and even feebler scaffolding hiding the sketchy process. The most damning detail of all is that the adjacent sidewalk and bus stop were never once closed to protect the public. In retrospect, the whole operation was a bit like erecting scaffolding and construction tarp around the ridge of an active volcano to hide its inconvenient volatility and then letting the public freely hike to the summit. Of course, tempting fate in this way seems unconscionably absurd now that the consequences are national news, but this sort of thing happens all the time. In short, it’s both standard and substandard practice.

Two months prior to the collapse, another building just 300 meters away was being demolished in the same way, raising concerns among locals. Although it fortunately didn’t collapse, one resident, identified in local news only as “Mr. Shin,” filed a public interest report over the potential risk of such demolition practices and the serious danger they posed to adjacent public spaces. In his report, Shin specifically mentioned the piling up of dirt and lack of safety precautions taken in the demolition process. Shin’s report was received by the Anti-Corruption and Civil Rights Commission, which notified the Dong-gu Office of the Urban Management Bureau. In response, said bureau issued “an official letter” to the demolition contractor demanding that safety be “strictly observed” so that nearby pedestrians don’t suffer from any accidents. Apparently, that was good enough for the bureau.[1]

Shin was less than impressed. In an interview with The Hankyoreh, he voiced more of his concerns about the potential for fatal injuries. Again, he referenced the increasingly steep slope of the dirt-and-rubble heap bearing down on the building façade, which was weakening more and more with every chunk ripped off. Ultimately, Shin’s concerns were ignored, and the precarious demolition practices continued unchecked. At the time, neither the demolition company (Hansol Corporation) nor the apartment developer (HDC Hyundai Development Company) responded to the report. Inquiries made by The Hankyoreh back in April were also disregarded. Two months later, Shin’s worst fears would prove prescient.[1]

Five days after the collapse, on June 14, the Dong-gu Office conducted a belated safety inspection of the redevelopment site with the help of structural engineers and architects. The findings are quite damning. With the monsoon season just around the corner, sinkholes are a serious concern in the area, as many pits and underground structures have been left wide open. When these aren’t covered, water can seep deep into the ground and erode the soil upholding the heavily trafficked roads nearby. Overall, the post-processing of demolished buildings in Hak-dong was found to be severely lacking, with many buildings left half standing and unattended trash and rubble left at or just beneath the surface – an invisible danger passed on to the following developer.[1]

Another interesting detail to emerge is related to illegal multi-level subcontracting. Although Seoul-based Hansol

▲ Emergency rescue workers stand atop the “rubble ramp” the day after the accident.

Corporation won the bid for demolition in Hak-dong, the demolition company working on the collapsed building was actually Gwangju-based Baeksol Construction. This means that demolition was double subcontracted, from Hyundai to Hansol and then from Hansol to Baeksol.[2] Naturally, the reason for this sort of thing is to save money. Hansol Corporation would take a financial hit by transporting its equipment down to Gwangju, so it cuts corners by hiring local contractors, but this cost-cutting method results in cuts to safety measures as well.[3] Apparently, this kind of illegal multi-level subcontracting is rampant in the construction industry.

A recent police investigation into the demolition process has revealed that Baeksol Construction was also enlisted for asbestos removal in the area. This was found to be illegal, as Baeksol Construction didn’t have an asbestos removal license when the contract was made. (The company would later “borrow” such a license from Daein Construction, which is also illegal license lending.) The investigation is ongoing and may involve more subcontracting companies, but getting conclusive evidence in such cases can at times be complicated by the fact that so many of the contracts are made verbally.[3] We’ll just have to wait and see what facts turn up.

It’s hard to conclude an article on such a recent event, so I’ll focus on more perennial concerns. While negligent demolition projects like what we see in Hak-dong and around the country are likely here to stay, I don’t think urban redevelopment’s sudden fall from obscurity will stick – though I’d love to be proven wrong. In this case, some heads might roll, a few fines will probably be paid, and a couple of dodgy companies may get taken down in the process; however, my concern is how quickly the public eye will redirect to other things, leaving only a handful of concerned citizens, journalists, writers, and photographers to remind the public how closely intertwined these issues are with our everyday lives.

Photographs by Isaiah Winters.

Resources

1 Jeong, D. (2021, June 10). [단독] 두달 전 “철거 건물, 도로 덮칠 듯”…참사 막을 기회 있었다. The Hankyoreh. https://www. hani.co.kr/arti/area/honam/998878.html?fbclid=IwAR1VKna

EKnPi3Zjs8rH RivLBqaiiX8PjFmOYzUAWpfECTSFNfBrcfFx _pxI 2 Kim, Y. (2021, June 14). “17명 사상” 광주 학동4구역…“이미 철거된 건물들도 위험.” The Hankyoreh. https://www.hani. co.kr/arti/area/honam/999334.html 3 Jeong, B. (2021, June 14). 학동 붕괴사고로 드러난 건설업계

“고질적 하도급” 병폐. Gwangju Ilbo. https://kwangjuilbo. tistory.com/5546?category=751718

The Author

Born and raised in America’s largest county, Isaiah Winters is a pixel-stained wretch who loves writing about Gwangju, warts and all. When he’s not working or copyediting, he’s usually punishing himself with long hikes or curbing his mediocre writing and photography with regular practice. Regarding the latter, you can check his progress at @d.p.r.kwangju