Edited by Henry Scott-Stokes and Lee Jai-eui

Through the first-person accounts of two student protestors and seven foreign and eight domestic correspondents who were present during the rebellion, editors Henry Scott-Stokes and Lee Jai-eui hope to unveil, by way of remembrance, the course of events in Kwangju from May 18 to 27, 1980, in which it is estimated that between several hundred to as many as 2,000 people died. The essayists also, largely for the first time, address in direct terms the responsibility of the United States for the atrocities, whether by inaction or direct endorsement.

Like most thematic collections, the textual organisation employs perspective as the touchstone. The essays are compelling largely due to their personal, even confessional, tone. The uprising itself, described by contributor Kim Chung-keun, was not the product of merely political questions. Rather, "the uprising sprang to life in response to grassroots-type, basic, simple questions, such as what is the nation and what should the national army be to us?" While the individual contributions tend toward recollection over reflection, these "basic, simple questions" permeate the volume.

The uprising and massacre in Kwangju followed the assassination of President Park Chung-hee in October 1979 and the determination of Gen. Chun Doo-hwan to suppress the calls of student demonstrators and others for democracy in order to continue military rule in South Korea. On May 17, martial law was extended from Seoul to the entire country.

In Kwangju, the citizens of the city joined the students, and a coalition numbering 200,000 overpowered the military presence. The reinforcements sent to quell the uprising carried out wholesale attacks on groups seeking refuge in public buildings, indiscriminate beatings, bayoneting, and shootings. Student protestor Lee Jai-eui described the military¡¦s "technique":

"Crack open a student¡¦s head; next stomp on his back as he went down; then kick his face with a boot, putting the boot in. The victim lost consciousness. The paratroopers grabbed him by the neck, dragged him to police vans nearby and tossed him casually one on top of the others, like so many animal carcasses."

Demonstrators hoped fruitlessly throughout the military siege, code-named "Fascinating Vacations," that the United States would intervene, for they believed that American strategy preferred a democratic south Korea. Most Americans, the majority of them military personnel, were evacuated, however, by May 21, and U.S. aircraft were redeployed to other parts of the peninsula. Sam Jameson, one of the foreign correspondents, recounts that Chun claimed that he asked Gen. John A. Wickham Jr., the director of U.S. military operations in Korea, his opinion regarding the second deployment of troops to Kwangju. Wickham told Chun that he "saw nothing wrong" with the move. Lee argues that "Wickham . . . needed someone to deal with; it really didn¡¦t terribly matter who that person was. . . . Chun was there."

Jameson argues, however, that the United States did not support the use of military force in Kwangju despite common perceptions to the contrary. Rather, American culpability lies in the Carter administration¡¦s consent to the government¡¦s plan to spend 20 months drafting the new Constitution. This delay tried popular patience with the transitional government. It also gave Chun sufficient time to amass the power base necessary to mount the coup. The role of the U.S. government in the Kwangju Massacre remains one question still unanswered.

While foreign correspondents faced obstacles in getting the news to their editors, the book notes that Korean journalists faced the censorship of their editors or state authorities. Consequently, no line of news copy directly from Kwangju ever made it into the south Korean press. Stories prepared in Seoul were coloured to appease the censoring body composed of military officers. The government¡¦s reign of violence against student activists and other ordinary citizens was characterised as saving the State from "hooligans" ¡X rioters, rebels and pro-communists.

Oh Hyo-jin, knowing full well that his observations would not be reported, still conveyed them to his editors. The military subsequently arrested him for "spreading false rumours and preparing false documents with evil intent" ¡X his career effectively ended.

Moreover, the domestic press found itself between the hard place of the military authorities and the rock of the people. The foreign reporters were viewed by the dissenters as agents of salvation while the domestic press was viewed with disdain. Cho Sung-ho recalls how one student stopped him and announced: "The reporters are also the enemies [of the people]" for failing to present "other than distorted information from the military side."

The uprising of the people of Kwangju in May 1980 was a major event in the march toward the democracy that south Korea now enjoys. In 1995, Chun and Roh Tae-woo, the subsequent president, as well as other former military officials, were arrested and tried for "having suppressed the pro-democracy movement." Another of the foreign correspondents, Gebhard Hielscher, argues that the absence of military involvement in these court proceedings confirms the independence of the modern south Korean judiciary, a fundamental hallmark of democracy. Three years later leading opposition figure Kim Dae-jung was elected president.

These are among the achievements wrought by the sacrifices of the people of Kwangju. In short, it is the triumph of truth over the expedient revisionism of a dictatorial regime. The Kwangju Uprising: Eyewitness Press Accounts of Korea¡¦s Tiananmen adds to the understanding of these fateful 10 days in May 1980 that helped create the democratic system and culture that the country now enjoys. It is a book about remembering so that the lessons of history can be applied, but not repeated, today.