#Revolution_For_Sale
An essay written for a philosophy course assignment
November 14, 2015, when farmer Baek Nam-gi collapsed due to excessive police force. That day, I was working part-time at a bar in an alley in Insa-dong. Because the shop had a strong political character, it was crowded on Saturdays when all kinds of rallies took place. That day, a very large rally took place, and the shop was bustling with people accordingly. People washing bags hit by pepper spray water cannons, people drying wet socks on the stove in the courtyard. Amidst the bustling crowd, I was frantically serving food when the owner, who had received a call from somewhere, suddenly shouted loudly to the customers. ‘Farmer Baek Nam-gi has passed away after being hit by police water cannons!’ A momentary silence fell over the shop. I still remember the atmosphere then. That feeling, like I was caught in a scene from history itself. A year later, in November 2016, I felt that same sense of being in a historical moment again. This time, I wasn't alone. Many citizens said they felt they were part of an important historical moment. Crowds poured into the streets, and naturally, my workplace became packed with customers. So, I had to work part-time every Saturday night in November 2016. I was an Insadong part-timer in a moment of history. Because I had to work part-time, I couldn't participate in every candlelight march or cultural festival event. Still, seeing the record-breaking numbers of candles each week and the growing public interest, I held a fluttering hope that the world might change a little. Jongno and Insadong, once deserted by the economic downturn, were now filled with people in every alleyway. Smiles blossomed on the faces of many self-employed business owners in the Jongno area, including the owner of the shop where I worked. People made self-deprecating remarks, saying President Park had finally achieved his 'creative economy.' It wasn't untrue; sales at the shop where I worked had indeed jumped to over ten times the usual amount. Yet even that success passed me by. I felt like I was part of a historical scene, a moment in some revolution, but in truth, I was just a part-timer earning 7,000 won an hour. And the 'moment of revolution' seen through the eyes of a part-timer was filled with the sight of people thriving in 'revolution business'. Is it a stretch to call the fleeting boom in the Jongno area 'revolution business'? People seemed to treat coming to our shop after shouting and marching on Jongno Street as part of a set course. They'd come in, sing protest songs with others, and say things like, "Yeah, on rally days, you gotta come to OO, have a drink, and then head home." Why did I start looking askance at these seemingly ordinary people's words? On Saturdays when rallies were held, convenience stores around Jongno were packed. At the convenience stores, people bought candles and paper cups. On the streets, people bought and sold all sorts of things. Traditional items like candles stuck in paper cups overflowed, along with windproof LED candles and various LED candle derivatives (hairpins, headbands, etc.). After President Park Geun-hye delivered her third national address, when public anger peaked, people even sold torches on the streets for 10,000 won. Someone remarked about this situation, "It's interesting how the revolution, within the capitalist system, has been reduced to just a symbol as a cool item." Guy Debord, in ⟨The Society of the Spectacle⟩, discusses the essential movement of the spectacle, stating that commodities turn the dynamism of human activity into something static. The world of commodities dominates everything experienced. Commodities occupy social life and alienate the movement between people. Just as commodities are easily encountered yet remain the most ambiguous entities, the 'items' in the November 2016 square protests could be easily purchased, yet their actual reflection of revolutionary value became ambiguous. Do the alcohol and space they enjoy in shops, the torches bought for ten thousand won, the LED candle hairpins bought for a thousand won, serve any role beyond being 'symbols of revolution', 'commodities', 'items'? Clearly, the plaza's items have fixed human dynamism as a commodity. They also turned people into consumers of the revolution rather than thinkers about it. Yet, despite this, the existence of people who found 'solidarity' through those items cannot be denied. While revolutionary commerce flourished in that moment of revolution, it cannot be denied that this commerce fostered a sense of solidarity among people. In capitalist society, the power of a 'commodity' lies in its ability to grant a sense of 'homogeneity' and 'solidarity' only to those who possess it. Often, that solidarity and sense of commonality produce negative outcomes like a 'sense of privilege'. But the solidarity in the November square was different. After Saturday passed, I saw countless candlelight photos on the front page of the newspaper, and once again, people gathered in the square on Saturday. And people felt a 'sense of solidarity' – that we could change something, that I wasn't the only one feeling this anger. According to Guy Debord, the 'revolution' as a 'commodity'—deserving of criticism—made 'solidarity' possible and propelled it in a positive direction. Indeed, this candlelight solidarity continued throughout November, culminating in the passage of the impeachment motion against President Park Geun-hye on December 9, 2016. This achievement, as everyone acknowledges, was the power of the candlelight. The subsequent situation is unclear, but it is a clear fact that people united and that the power of that solidarity originated from a commodity. There is another example of a spectacle enabling solidarity in South Korea. It is the 2016 'feminist goods'. 2016 was a year marked by diverse events significant enough to be called the founding year of Korean feminism. Among these, the most controversial was the 'Nexon Closers Voice Actor Replacement Controversy'. This incident began with a project titled 'Facing the World with One Piece of Feminism', initiated by the netfeminist group Megalia4 to raise related funds. The project sold short-sleeved T-shirts emblazoned with the phrase 'Girls Do not need a prince'. It concluded successfully, achieving 1448% of its initial funding goal with a total of 4,103 backers. After the project ended, many supporters wore the T-shirts and posted about them on their social media. Among them, voice actress Kim Ja-yeon wore a Megalia4 T-shirt and posted proof on her SNS, sparking a collective boycott by netizens who objected. The next day, Kim Ja-yeon's contract with game company Nexon was terminated. Furthermore, the voice of the character she voiced in the game 'Closers' was replaced with recordings by another voice actor. In response, many women staged protests against Nexon's unfair contract termination, and posts highlighting the injustice against Kim Ja-yeon continued to spread online. Subsequently, a 'YES CUT' movement emerged within the subculture scene, targeting webtoon artists who expressed support for Kim Ja-yeon with boycotts and star-rating attacks. Furthermore, the progressive Justice Party sparked significant controversy by retracting an initial statement supporting Kim Ja-yeon issued by its Arts and Culture Committee. While this incident starkly revealed the negative perception of 'feminism' in South Korea, it also fostered a sense of solidarity among feminists, united by 'a single T-shirt'. Following the Megalia4 T-shirt, many feminist groups launched merchandise sales. These merchandise sales primarily took place on the crowdfunding site Tumblbug or at offline gatherings, consistently exceeding funding goals and selling out upon launch. Many feminists show solidarity by wearing the same badges, carrying the same bags, sticking the same stickers, and using the same diaries. Those who stand in solidarity through 'products' reassure each other: 'We will be each other's courage.' They express themselves through these goods and meet others who share their beliefs. That spirit becomes courage and changes the world. Ultimately, the spectacle—constantly criticized by Guy Debord, fundamentally intertwined with capital and thus incapable of self-correction—is transforming into a 'possibility for solidarity' in contemporary South Korea. It is a society of advanced capitalism where even revolution is sold, yet where the phrase 'even ~ is sold' isn't necessarily interpreted negatively as a possibility for solidarity. This paradox—where the spectacle developing solely for itself becomes each other's courage—remains an ongoing process.
> P.S. Connecting separate events that only link in my mind through writing is always difficult. In this essay too, trying to weave together completely separate keywords—from revolution and capitalism, spectacle and commodities, to feminism and merchandise—left me unable to shake the feeling of forcing a fit. Still, I think this essay achieved a certain plausibility… Next time, I'll try to prune the branches better.