World Cup battles will continue
The year upon which all of Korea's and much of Japan's attention has been focused lies six years ahead, in 2002. The sought-after prize was the right to host the final rounds of soccer's World Cup that year. Rather than one side facing bitter defeat at the hands of the other, the two nations have been encouraged to grant each other a partial victory. Our Asia correspondent Harvey Stockwin suggests that while a bitterly- fought East Asian war has come to an end, many more skirmishes will certainly be fought.
HONG KONG (JP): There they go again. A few months ago, Japan and South Korea were once again arguing over a small, barely inhabited rock called "Tokto" by the Koreans, and "Takeshima" by the Japanese.
The 1995-1996 struggle between South Korea and Japan to secure FIFA's nod as host for soccer's World Cup has been equally passionate and protracted. It has been a rerun of the duel fought by the two nations in 1981-1982 to host the 1988 Olympic Games. Seoul was then the winner -- against the odds -- defeating the Japanese city of Nagoya.
Another round in the deep-seated and intense post-colonial rivalry between Japan and Korea has come to a barely tolerated end for both parties, as they attempted to emulate South Asia's recent success in organizing the World Cup in cricket, notwithstanding another Asian post-colonial rivalry.
Cricket was faced with the intractable nature of Indo-Pakistan relations as a veritable sticky wicket on which to play Cricket's World Cup. Joint hosting together with Sri Lanka was the preferred solution, and it all worked out very well, especially as Sri Lanka kept the cup in South Asia by winning the final against Australia in Lahore.
European soccer officials, who still seem to dominate the sport's international ruling body -- The Federation of International Football Associations (FIFA) -- could be in for a nasty shock if they think the 2002 soccer World Cup will go as smoothly as the 1996 cricket World Cup eventually did.
They helped to engineer a surprise compromise over the co- hosting of soccer's World Cup in 2002. Against the odds, it was agreed that both Japan and South Korea will co-host the final rounds of soccer's premier event.
Yet, judging by what soccer officials are saying, they have no idea of the complexities they now face as a result.
The Europeans had become deeply disturbed as the rival bids from the two East Asian nations were prosecuted with ever greater intensity and animosity in the last few months and weeks. The dispute over Tokto was bad enough, but the rivalry over soccer was equally ardent, perhaps even more so.
Belatedly, it dawned on them that in East Asia, the soccer craze was highly political as well as highly emotional.
On June 1, top FIFA officials were due to award the 2002 World Cup to either Korea or Japan. Basically, a situation had been reached where it was difficult to see how either Japan or South Korea would be able to accommodate the prospect of defeat. Such was the emotional intensity with which their rivalry over hosting contest had been pursued.
I can imagine how those in FIFA that favored co-hosting felt. On the one hand, FIFA's president -- Joao Havelange -- had clearly come to back the Japanese bid. Both he and the Japanese were rejecting any notions of co-hosting right up until the morning of May 30. Havelange vowed that co-hosting would never take place during his presidency.
On the other hand, those favoring the co-hosting compromise, including soccer officials, probably thought that this Korea- Japan rivalry was just another example of soccer madness run wild. Things were getting out of hand. Co-hosting was the rational answer which would sort things out.
Consequently the co-hosting proponents first secured sufficient African and Latin American support to give them a clear majority on FIFA's executive committee. Once Havelange saw that the numbers were against him, he preferred to hang on to his presidency and quickly changed his mind on co-hosting. End of the problem. Or so some may have thought.
But if that's what many soccer officials think, they could not be more wrong. The co-hosting decision is the beginning of what looks to be a fascinating chapter in the history of Asian discord.
When all is said and done, Korean-Japanese relations frequently exude the deep animosity of an ethnic antagonism, even though -- to outsiders -- Koreans and Japanese both come from the same racial stock.
For the Koreans, as they mounted their typically late-starting come-from-behind "World Cup Korea" campaign, it was never merely a case of winning the host's role. They also desperately wanted to defeat Japan.
For the Japanese, there is an ethnic difference. Their nationality law admits as much. The hundreds of thousands of Koreans brought to Japan during the colonial period, who elected to stay on, can never become Japanese citizens, no matter how many generations their families live in Japan -- except by subterfuge, pretending they are ethnic Japanese and hoping that no Japanese will notice. The Japanese authorities usually do.
The emotional antagonism on the Korean side comes, in large part, from the fact that during a mere 35 to 40 years of Japanese colonial rule, Japan still tried to eliminate both Korean names and even the Korean language. Paradoxically, the Japanese treated the Koreans as a lesser colonial breed, but they still wanted the Koreans to be the same as them.
As a result, Koreans playing soccer in the 1930s played with Japanese names for Japanese-named teams. Koreans knew, of course, who were "ours" and who were "theirs". Part of the present-day passion for soccer lies in the fact that Koreans kept their separate sense of identity alive by beating the real Japanese teams as often as they could.
Today, the colonial period adds bitterness to the Korean- Japanese relationship for another reason: the Koreans remember every last detail of their oppression, while Japan has taken care to expunge memories of its brutality.
The year 1919 provides an interesting point of comparison between the British Empire in India and the Japanese Empire in Korea.
The story of the 1919 Amritsar Massacre by the British is almost as well-known in Britain as it is in India. It aroused a lot of controversy in Britain when it occurred. In Richard Attenborough's film Gandhi, the incident was displayed in all its horror.
Contrast that with the fact that the Korean Student Uprising in 1919 and its consequent suppression by the Japanese are generally unknown, except by Koreans. The brutality was also extreme: apart from the many executions, missionary accounts tell of many male and female students being publicly stripped and flogged, and some even crucified.
Japan kept Korea secluded from the outside world, and suppressed all news of the "incident" both at home and abroad. The western press never got hold of the story. Missionary accounts are virtually all there are to go on. Ignorance in Japan (and the outside world) about Korea in 1919 has continued until the present day.
As far as I am aware, no top Japanese filmmaker has ever tried to portray the reality of 1919.
The Koreans remember, the Japanese forget. This is an inflammable part of the combustible emotional fuel which can easily ignite a brittle relationship.
The Japanese assume that, for everybody, the ocean between the two countries is the Sea of Japan. For Koreans it is the East Sea.
The Japanese assumed that every member of FIFA would recognize that their facilities for the World Cup were superior. This only reminded the Koreans of former Japanese colonial attitudes which assumed Korean inferiority -- and the memory pushed them towards the more aggressive presentation of their case.
The Japanese will assume that it is to be the Japan-Korea World Cup in 2002. The Koreans will insist that it must be the Korea-Japan World Cup.
The Japanese will insist that the ultimate World Cup Final can only be held in Tokyo. The Koreans will insist that it must take place in Seoul.
And so it will go on. Those soccer administrators who think that the co-hosting compromise solves the problem simply do not know what they are up against.
They have merely solved one manifestation of a vexed and enduring antagonism. There will be plenty more such manifestations before what ought to be called the East Asian World Cup actually takes place.
So The Jakarta Post would like to suggest one method of conflict-resolution which might promote World Cup co-hosting success.
When the problem of where to hold the 2002 World Cup Final proves intractable, the best solution will be to arrange a game of soccer.
A double-header event between the Japanese and Korean national teams can be arranged. The first game can be in Seoul, the second in Tokyo. Any Japanese goals scored before the passionate crowd in Seoul, or any Korean goals scored before the disciplined solidarity of the spectators in Tokyo will count double.
The aggregate score will decide the issue of where the game will be held. If the scores are even at the end of the two games, then another two games will be arranged in Pusan and Osaka. The issue is simply too important to be decided by the dubious method of a penalty shootout. The ultimate loser can host the opening ceremony.
If such a solution is preferred and the games are held, the sheer ferocity of the matches will be terrific, and any student of Japanese-Korean relations will simply have to be in the stadium for both games.