[KS] KSR 2004-04: _SEoul, ville gEante, citEs radieuses_ by ValErie GelEzeau

[Stephen Epstein]

_SEoul, ville gEante, citEs radieuses_ by ValErie GelEzeau, with a 
preface by Jean-Robert Pitte, 2003. Paris: CNRS Editions (Collection 
Asie Orientale). 292 pages (maps, plans, charts, illus., gloss., 
bibliog.) Euros 29. (ISBN 2-271-06085-0, paper).

Reviewed by James E. Hoare
SOAS, University of London
jim at jhoare10.fsnet.co.uk

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.

	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.

	Park and those around him then encouraged such buildings for 
a number of reasons. They further assisted the great construction 
chaebol 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 _nyu t'aun_(New Town) appellation that the 
Chamsil first mega-complex received. The _chaebol_ 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.

	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.

	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.

	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.

	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.


Citation:
Hoare, James E. 2004
_SEoul, ville gEante, citEs radieuses_ by ValErie GelEzeau,  (2003)
_Korean Studies Review_ 2004, no. 04
Electronic file: http://koreaweb.ws/ks/ksr/ksr04-04.htm
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