Restoring Harmony: South Korea’s long search to reclaim its identity from Japanese occupation

EXPLORING KOREA: Stories from Milwaukee to the DMZ and across a divided Peninsula. This special series explores historical sites and cultural traditions from across the Korean Peninsula, building a bridge back to the search for identity in Milwaukee. From the occupation of Korea at the end of World War II, to Korean War veterans in Milwaukee, veterans from Milwaukee who served in later years at the DMZ, adopted South Korean children who grew up in Milwaukee, different waves of the South Korean diaspora who moved to Milwaukee to raise their families, and even a defector from North Korea, their stories share generations of Korean and American experiences. https://mkeind.com/koreanstories

History and national pride are often intertwined with everyday life in South Korea. One particular story that has captured the attention of many, who live in the capital city of Seoul, involves the legend of iron rods that were driven into the earth by Imperial Japan during their 35 years of colonial rule.

“Pung su (풍수),” the Korean term for “feng shui (风水),” is the ancient Chinese geomancy practice that studies the flow of the earth’s energy. In South Korea it is believed that this energy flows from Mount Baekdu through the Baekdu-Daegan mountain range, forming the country’s central nervous system for spiritual strength. The flow of energy is thought to fill South Korea with its national spirit.

During Japan’s occupation from 1910 to 1945, it was said that Imperial soldiers drove iron rods into the sacred mountains at key points to weaken Korea’s pung su. It was an effort to break the will and resistance of the Korean people, and an effective propaganda tool.

While unsupported by hard proof, the belief that the Japanese stakes existed and their power was disruptive has been deeply ingrained in the Korean national psyche for decades. Stories about the stakes have been passed down through generations, and they are often cited as a cause of the nation’s unease and difficulties.

The belief has also been reinforced by anecdotal evidence and oral testimonies from older residents who claim to have witnessed or heard about the stakes being planted. After World War II, when Korea regained independence, the provisional government sought to find and remove the stakes. Geographers and shamanists were dispatched across the countryside.

However, Japanese officials in custody did not acknowledge the stakes or disclose their locations, fueling a sense of unease and unfinished business in Korea. It was believed that Japan remained keen to dominate Korea economically rather than militarily in the post-war world.

Many South Koreans continue to feel the lingering wounds from the Japanese occupation, a period marked by cultural suppression and attempts to erase Korean identity. Removing the stakes was seen as a way to restore the nation’s spiritual and cultural harmony.

The task of removing the stakes was further complicated by Korea’s heavily forested and mountainous terrain, making aerial or satellite detection impossible. Even technological advancements have proven ineffective. South Korea’s first domestically built geomancy satellite, intended to detect feng shui anomalies from orbit, was destroyed in a mid-air explosion shortly after launch, further hindering the search efforts.

Despite these challenges, the quest to find and remove the stakes has persisted, driven by both scientific curiosity and nationalistic fervor. Elderly South Koreans, particularly those who grew up hearing the stories, have searched for years to locate the Japanese stakes.

As each year passes the number of dedicated searchers dwindles. But for a time it was common to see individuals spend their weekends climbing mountains and valleys, looking for metal posts, nails, and rods that they believed were remnants of the Japanese colonization.

Despite the passionate search, concrete evidence remains lacking. There are no documented records from the Japanese military or colonial authorities about planting these stakes. Skeptics argue that the stakes could have been used for other purposes, such as anchoring cables during the Korean War or for geological surveys.

The stakes that have been found vary in design, material, and size, complicating the narrative of a coordinated effort by the Japanese.

One such story involved a former Japanese general, Tomoyuki Yamashita, who allegedly confessed to a Korean translator during World War II that the Japanese had planted metal poles throughout Korea to disrupt the people’s spiritual energy. While compelling, the story lacked concrete evidence, leaving the search for definitive proof ongoing.

Adding to the complexity is the role of Korean shamans, who historically used metal objects in their rituals. In the mid-1990s, the buzz about Japanese metal posts was fueled by the government’s move to reexamine the country’s colonial history. However, discoveries of metal posts and knives in the tomb of Admiral Yi Sun-shin, a revered war hero, revealed that many objects were likely planted by shamans for ritualistic purposes.

Many historians now believe that the mysterious metal posts found in South Korea were predominantly used in shamanistic practices. Despite that, the legend of the Japanese stakes persists, driven by historical grievances and a desire to reclaim Korea’s spiritual harmony.

The recovery work involves a mix of meticulous research and hands-on exploration. It begins by gathering reports from hikers, park authorities, and local residents who have encountered suspicious metal objects. Once a potential site has been identified, researchers travel into the mountains, equipped with tools to excavate the stakes. Each discovery is documented, and the objects are often turned over to local authorities or preserved as historical artifacts.

Such efforts are part of a broader movement within South Korea to address and heal the wounds of the past. Civic groups and historians support the searches, viewing them as an important step in reclaiming Korean history and identity. The movement has gained traction over the years, with more people becoming aware of the stakes and their symbolic significance.

But while many Koreans support the search for the Japanese stakes, believing it is essential to reclaiming their national spirit, there are also controversies and debates surrounding the issue. Some argue that the focus on hunting for the stakes distracts from more pressing contemporary problems. Others question the historical accuracy of the claims, pointing to the lack of concrete evidence and the role of shamans in planting metal objects for ritualistic purposes.

Despite the opposing debates, the recovery movement has a significant following. Public ceremonies are sometimes held when stakes are discovered and removed, symbolizing the cleansing of the land and the restoration of Korea’s spiritual harmony. The events are often covered by local media, further fueling interest and support for the cause.

Looking to the future as the years pass, the search for Japan’s stakes faces new challenges. Changing demographics and modern lifestyles mean fewer young people are interested in joining the hunt. The urgency that once drove older generations to the mountains continues to wane, raising concerns that Korea’s national spirit might never be fully restored.

Then there are those individuals who share the belief in the cause, and feel the quest is far from over. Each discovery of a rusted hoop or nail unearthed from the ground is a step toward healing and reclaiming Korea’s spiritual heritage. Whether or not the stakes were truly planted by the Japanese, the search itself has become a powerful symbol for the restoration of South Korea’s national spirit.