If you’re into K-dramas, you’re probably aware that on Dec. 22 a new one called Gyeongseong Creature premiered on Netflix. Like the titular monster it’s a hybrid: part sci-fi horror mystery, part historical melodrama. Set in the spring of 1945 in Gyeongseong, the old name for Seoul, the story centers on a man and a woman who learn about horrible human experiments being carried out by the Japanese Imperial Army, first in northeast China and then in Gyeongseong. The idea was inspired by real experiments the Japanese military conducted on Chinese prisoners during World War II. The creatures under development in the drama are designed to be weapons. 

To announce the launch of the series, actor Han So-hee, one of the stars, posted a brief poetic description of its theme on her Instagram account accompanied by 8 photos, one of which depicted the Korean independence activist Ahn Jung-geun. The comments thread for the post quickly filled up with reactions, many of them angry, not at the post itself but at the photo. Ahn was the man who assassinated Hirobumi Ito, Japan’s first prime minister who later became resident-general of Japan’s occupation of the Korean peninsula, in the Chinese city of Harbin in 1909. Ahn was against Western influence in Asia and welcomed Japan’s victory in its war with Russia, but was disappointed when it became obvious that Japan was bent on colonizing Joseon (the old name for Korea), which it would do the following year through annexation. According to the late Japan scholar Donald Keene, Ahn always felt an affinity for Japan since he believed the two countries shared many values and traditions. He was put to death by the Japanese military.

Nowadays, Ahn is a national hero to Koreans and a terrorist to many Japanese. By posting Ahn’s photo, Han offended her Japanese followers, who thought she was making a political statement at their expense. Han did not mention Ahn in the text of her post, but by attaching his photo she appeared to be connecting the idea of Korean independence to the drama series, which takes place during the last year of Japan’s colonial rule, Korea’s “darkest time,” according to the show’s catch copy. None of the complaints let on that Japan officially governed Korea from 1910 to 1945 (and unofficially for some years prior to 1910), and during that time endeavored to turn Koreans into subjects of the Japanese emperor by force. The authors didn’t seem to make the connection. They took Han’s gesture as an affront without even thinking about the context, if, in fact, they even knew about it. 

Korean media picked up on the matter immediately, reprinting some of the negative Japanese comments (“It’s inevitable that Han must be anti-Japanese,” “I’m no longer a fan of Han”) as well as at least one minority statement of support (“Thank you for giving Japanese fans the opportunity to turn their eyes to the past”). Some also printed Korean reactions to the Japanese backlash, all in support of Han. The actor herself acknowledged the backlash in a subsequent post, implying that she wasn’t surprised by it, only saddened that people didn’t understand history. Professor Seo Kyoung-duk of Sungshin University defended Han on social media, saying that the Japanese reaction was “absurd” and revealed a lack of objective historical knowledge. He also theorized that the response indicated “anxiety” over the global spread of Korean popular culture, one of whose side effects is wider exposure to the historical relationship between Korea and Japan, a matter that this blog has already discussed in detail.

Seo’s analysis seems to take for granted that Han’s Japanese critics simply see Korean historical dramas that take place during the colonial era as being inherently anti-Japanese, so it would seem unlikely that anyone who calls themself a fan of Han would not have seen any Korean movies or TV shows that take place in such a setting. All invariably portray Japan’s colonial rulers as being at the very least oppressive. The disappointment with Han’s post may be a specific reaction to the photo of Ahn. After all, Gyeongseong Creature is a fantasy, so Japanese viewers may extend their ability to suspend disbelief to the show’s historical milieu, meaning they see the demonization of Japan as being merely a dramatic choice and not one that reflects Koreans’ real feelings; and to an extent that’s true, since many K-dramas and movies that take place during the colonial era are designed to entertain rather than enlighten. The difference is that Koreans, having been the objects of colonization, can portray that situation any way they want, while Japan, being the colonizer, cannot, or, at least, not without owning up to the oppression that’s intrinsic to colonial ambitions. As a result, the world learns about Japan’s intentions toward Korea from 1910 to 1945 simply by enjoying K-content, and there’s nothing Japan can do about it because Japan never addresses its actions as a colonizer in its own dramas and movies.

This makes for a particularly sticky situation with regard to Ahn, who, as already mentioned, is a martyr in Korea. Last year, in fact, a movie adaptation of a successful stage musical about Ahn, Hero, was released in Korea, and sometime in 2024, a more earnest action film about the assassination of Ito, called Harbin, will open, with actor Hyun Bin playing Ahn. Thanks mainly to the international K-drama hit Crash Landing on You, Hyun is perhaps the most popular Korean heartthrob in Japan. It’s difficult to believe that his Japanese fans don’t know about his involvement in Harbin. How do they feel about that, not to mention the possibility that the movie won’t be released in Japan since it valorizes Ahn? (Though, given Korean cinema’s mature take on historical events as evidenced by the recent blockbuster 12:12 The Day, a dramatization of the 1979 coup that led to the dictatorship of Chun Doo-hwan, Harbin‘s depiction of Ahn could be complex and nuanced.) As long ago as December 2022, a Korea-based Japanese writer speculated about this reaction when he heard of Hyun’s involvement in the project, and related a Korean media story of how a Japanese entertainment agency had offered Hyun a cool ¥100 million to appear at a single fan meeting in Japan and pose for some exclusive gravure photos. However, when the agency found out about Harbin, they contacted Hyun’s representatives asking if perhaps he might consider turning down the role. This agency, of course, could not care less about any perceived anti-Japanese sentiments. They’re only thinking about money, and how much they wouldn’t make if Hyun agreed to the fan meeting while going ahead with Harbin. 

It goes without saying that none of this, even if it’s speculation (because when does the Japanese media shy away from speculation?), has been covered in the Japanese press. Han So-hee’s Instagram post has received zero coverage here. Such neglect is of a piece with all matters that have to do with the success of Korean popular culture in Japan: Talk about it as little as possible.