This was my fourth visit to Cheongju, starting in June. The people at the Early Printing Museum there know me and my goal, my quest, my mission, which is quite simply to persuade the National Library of France to return Jikji to Korea as soon as possible. Jikji is a document of great historical and cultural value which proves that the printing press was invented in Korea long before Johannes Gutenberg was even born; Johnny G most assuredly did not invent the printing press. Jikji has been in French hands since 1887—much too long, in my view—and I am leading the charge for its repatriation.
I arrived at Cheongju Express Bus Terminal at 1:30 p.m. and met two young men. Sang-Woo Jung and Beum-Geun Kim (English name of Branden) are both business administration majors at the Chungju campus of Konkuk University. Their presence had been arranged by Cheoul-Woong Rim. He teaches at that university and is the main announcer for LBC, a Gangnam-area radio/podcast station. Sang-Woo, Branden and I taxied to the Grand Hall of the Cheongju Arts Center, site of the 5th Jikji Award Prize Ceremony. It is held every other year—2005, 2007, 2009, 2011 and now in 2013.
The event would begin at 3 p.m., so we set up quickly and got to work. The large “Bring Jikji back to Korea” banner was placed along one wall so people entering the huge Korean-style auditorium could see it. The smaller one we would take turns holding and displaying. I had told my young colleagues not to be shy about asking people to sign our petition. We want as many names as possible before we make a presentation to the French (via the Korean ambassador to France? the French ambassador to Korea? the National Library in far-off Paris?). Branden and Sang-Woo were enormously helpful in the process since they could speak the language. I have to say, the three of us made a heck of a team.
The signees included distinguished visitors, ordinary citizens and children who were part of a 1,377-member choral and musical group. As everybody knows, 1377 is the year Jikji was printed at nearby Heungdeok Temple. We got nearly three pages filled by the time the ceremony started, so we went inside. Since the lower part of the hall was packed, we climbed the stairs to the balcony. I confess to a slight disappointment in seeing so many empty seats upstairs. With a population of 650,000, Cheongju should have overflowed the place. At any rate, we enjoyed hearing the singers do “Arirang,” speeches in Korean, English and Spanish (the winner was the organization ADABI from Mexico) and a sort of multi-media show. We left early to position ourselves for the post-event rush. A reporter named Sung-Min Ji was covering the ceremony for his magazine. He interviewed me as we carried on with our labors. In fact, at one point I saw him helping my two young guys get additional signatures. I liked Mr. Ji. He required no convincing and mostly wanted to know why a foreigner is leading the drive. I told him I was a history major in college. In nearly six years here, I have traveled all over Korea and have read numerous books about Korean history. The issue is not me but the validity of our cause, which is to bring Jikji back home.
There were two other memorable encounters. First, a man—let’s call him Mr. Z—who serves on the staff of the nearby Early Printing Museum informed me that scholars are avidly seeking to locate one of the other 29 copies of the book. If another copy of Jikji were to show up, everything changes. Our campaign comes to a joyous halt, and France can keep its copy. But given the vagaries of more than 600 years, such a thing is unlikely to happen and we surely cannot wait in the naive hope that the search will be fruitful; the time for passivity is over. He also warily eyed our banners and urged us not to disrupt the event. I assured him that nothing of the sort would happen. Not my style, for one thing. Mr. Z said nothing should be done that might upset UNESCO, the organization that sponsors the event (although the $30,000 prize comes from the city of Cheongju). I stated that I really do not care whether UNESCO gets its feelings hurt or not. The same can be said for the National Library of France. On the contrary, our feelings are hurt because this priceless artifact, a huge part of Korea’s cultural heritage, sits in a library in distant France. Finally, Mr. Z mentioned some governmental agency whose official policy is that France “owns” Jikji, and that’s that. I did not mince words: “We are citizens of a free and democratic country. We have a voice, and we are not afraid to use it. Jikji is far too important to let the French hold it any longer. It rightfully belongs to Korea, and I tell you it is coming back home.” I made it clear that our conversation had grown tiresome and was at an end.
Shortly thereafter, Dr. Stella Garcia Gonzalez Cicero walked out of the lobby and toward us. Dressed in a resplendent Mexican dress, she was ADABI’s representative at the ceremony. I told her I was from neighboring Texas and offered sincere congratulations on having won the prestigious prize. I told her what we were doing, and she agreed to sign the petition. In her group were several others, including some from UNESCO. I launched into a brief speech, not unlike the one I had given Mr. Z a few minutes earlier. I added that Jikji remained in France primarily due to cultural imperialism and Eurocentric attitudes. Jikji has to be returned to Korea. Although I doubt Dr. Cicero knew its history in depth, she nodded in agreement before heading to the parking lot with her entourage.
Sang-Woo, Branden and I packed up and walked over the Jikji Bridge—which spans Jikji Street—to the museum, which was full of people. The staff members smiled broadly when I walked in, knowing of my campaign. It was not long before we unfurled the small banner and posed for photos with numerous others looking on. At Heungdeoksa, we took more photos, but that was not all. Branden pulled out his smart phone and began taking a video of me. I said, “Today is September 12, 2013” and pointed at the temple. “There it is. This is where the printing press was invented and where Jikji was created back in 1377. My colleagues and I are here in Cheongju today to spread the word. We want people to know the Jikji story and how it must be brought back to Korea. We will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”
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