<!doctype html public "-//W3C//DTD W3 HTML//EN">
<html><head><style type="text/css"><!--
blockquote, dl, ul, ol, li { padding-top: 0 ; padding-bottom: 0 }
--></style><title>[KS] KSR 2004-04: _SEoul, ville gEante, citEs
radieuse</title></head><body>
<div><font color="#000000"><i>_</i>SEoul, ville gEante, citEs
radieuses<i>_</i> by ValErie GelEzeau, with a preface by Jean-Robert
Pitte, 2003<i>.</i> Paris: CNRS Editions (Collection Asie Orientale).
292 pages (maps, plans, charts, illus., gloss., bibliog.) Euros 29.
(ISBN 2-271-06085-0, paper).<br>
<br>
Reviewed by James E. Hoare<br>
SOAS, University of London<br>
jim@jhoare10.fsnet.co.uk<br>
<br>
Journalists who write about Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea,
often dwell on the supposedly "Stalinist" characteristics of
its high-rise apartment blocks, and their reduction of human beings to
ant-like creatures. To the writers, these blocks are clearly a bad
thing. Yet some three hundred kilometers further down the Korean
peninsula, in the South Korean capital of Seoul, tower blocks seem
even more domineering. Clustered together in miniature cities
within the greater conurbation, they have become the preferred
dwelling place of the affluent and successful. South Koreans boast of
their tower blocks and the urban infrastructure of elevated roadways,
underpasses and bridges that go with them, comparing Seoul's Yoido
Island to Manhattan. There is nothing negative about this assessment
of such buildings.<br>
<br>
<x-tab> </x-tab>In this fascinating book, the French geographer
ValErie GelEzeau examines how this came to be. Her work is partly
based on direct observation through living in Seoul, and interviewing
urban residents. As well as examining how people live in the towers,
she also includes much information about traditional Korean housing
and explains how today's city dwellers manage to preserve some
traditional practices in the very different spaces that they occupy
today. She traces the origins of the modern dwelling complexes to the
industrial complexes established in the Japanese colonial period, but
argues that the real take-off for high-rise buildings was only
practical with improvements in water pressure and the reliability of
electricity supplies, for central heating and elevators, that had to
wait until the economic transformation of South Korea under President
Park Chung-hee began to take effect. It was thus only in the late
1970s that the widespread use of buildings over four-six stories
became possible. Before then, the typical Seoul "high-rise"
was about five stories, with no elevator and with a water tank on the
roof. In a society where few people owned their own cars, there was
little or no need for parking places. Some of these low high-rises
survive, now updated, with the water tank used only for emergencies,
and where possible, with parking spaces for the explosion in car
ownership since the mid-1980s. In general, however, the mighty blocks
that now dominate so much of the city have replaced these early
efforts.<br>
<br>
<x-tab> </x-tab>Park and those around him then encouraged such
buildings for a number of reasons. They further assisted the great
construction<i> chaebol</i> such as Hyundai, tying them in close to
the regime. They provided housing for the large numbers who flocked to
Seoul as a consequence of economic development, replacing more
traditional-style buildings and shantytowns that had sprung up after
the Korean War, when South Korea was too poor to afford anything else.
GelEzeau also sees the development of the high-rises as an important
part of Park's commitment to modernize South Korea. Perhaps drawing on
his experience of Japan's Manchukuo experiment, Park equated the
traditional with the countryside and the countryside with the
backward. Not only should people move off the land, but they should
also change the way that they lived. And the new blocks with their
"Western"-style bathrooms and kitchens were a potent symbol
of that modernity. But as so often happens when one probes into
developments in Korea, the inspiration for the new blocks that began
to appear from the mid-1970s came from Japan rather than from the
West, despite the Western-sounding<i> _nyu t'aun</i>_(New Town)
appellation that the Chamsil first mega-complex received. The<i>
_chaebol_</i> built their blocks following what had become the
standard modern Japanese layout, "LDK" - that is, a set of
bedrooms around a "living, dining, kitchen"
area.</font></div>
<div><font color="#000000"><br>
<x-tab> </x-tab>This concept
was very different from the layout of the traditional Korean house,
and it imposed on its inhabitants a new way of living. GelEzeau
describes how Koreans have learnt to cope with this. Some meals are
taken Western-style, seated around a table. Others, especially late
night snacks, or meals for older people, are more likely to be served
on traditional-style individual low tables. Sleeping patterns vary,
with the younger members of a family more inclined towards beds;
again, older people may prefer to sleep on the floor, as their
ancestors used to do. All those to whom she spoke seemed to prefer
their modern kitchens and bathrooms to those in traditional houses,
yet some prefer to go to the surviving bathhouses, or the more modern
sauna, rather than using the baths in their homes.<br>
<br>
<x-tab> </x-tab>The reason for this is
that such places provide a more sociable environment. While her
contacts praised the apartments for their comfort and safety, some at
least look back positively on older styles of housing because there
was more contact with neighbours. People clearly miss the friendly
greetings of the old communities. Indeed, one of the most striking
aspects of the world that GelEzeau describes is how isolated people
seem from each other. Community, and even family, life hardly exists.
The staff charged with looking after the buildings complain that the
residents will not sort their rubbish or take responsibility for the
communal areas. Yet these blocks are not the bleak social housing that
has given high-rise buildings such a bad name in Europe, but the acme
of middle-class living, in a society where everybody appears to aspire
to be considered middle class.<br>
<br>
<x-tab> </x-tab>This is not the only paradox. While
Seoulites may see themselves living an Eastern version of the American
dream, the reality is that the tower blocks of Seoul are far removed
from how Americans (and many Europeans) prefer to live. She notes the
complete absence of the house and garden concept that 80% of Americans
prefer - although she does not mention the prime example of this
lifestyle that was visible on the Yongsan base, which was certainly
known to many Koreans.<br>
<br>
<x-tab> </x-tab>All this and
much more is presented in this handsomely produced book. The
illustrations are well chosen, and the line drawings and plans clear
and informative. The text is readable and jargon-free. As with
many French books, there is no index, but a detailed table of contents
at the end.<br>
<br>
<br>
Citation:<br>
Hoare, James E. 2004<br>
<i>_</i>SEoul, ville gEante, citEs radieuses<i>_</i> by ValErie
GelEzeau, (2003)<br>
_Korean Studies Review_ 2004, no. 04<br>
Electronic file: http://koreaweb.ws/ks/ksr/ksr04-04.htm</font><br>
<font color="#000000"></font></div>
</body>
</html>