THE HISTORY
OF GWANGJU

The assassination of General Park on October 26, 1979 sparked widespread protests among the Korean people, who had endured many years of dictatorship. Their main demands included autonomy for universities, the lifting of martial law, and guarantees of fundamental workers' rights.

But this “springtime of democracy” was cut short on December 12, 1979, by another coup d'état that brought General Chun Doo-hwan to power. From then on, demands became more insistent and protests gained new momentum.

On May 10, representatives of student unions from across the country called for the lifting of martial law and the resignation of Chun Doo-hwan. A few days later, on May 15, several hundred thousand people took part in a large demonstration in Seoul, but faced with the high risk of military intervention and low citizen participation, the movement lost momentum.

However, this is not the case in Gwangju. The birthplace of protests against central government since the revolt of the Donghak (1894-1895), the city of opposition leader Kim Dae-jung embodies protest more than ever.

There, Chonnam National University and Chosun National University found themselves at the forefront of the protests. From May 8 to 16, they organized a “rally for democratization” that drew participants from far beyond the student body.

On May 16, tens of thousands of people gathered peacefully in front of the provincial government headquarters, demanding the lifting of the state of emergency and the departure of the military. Students in Gwangju then decided to meet on May 19 in front of the main entrance of Chonnam National University.

However, at midnight on May 17, the military junta extended the state of emergency to the entire country and proceeded with the mass arrest of political figures, opponents, and student leaders.

This decision, which had serious consequences, sparked the uprising of May 18.

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During the night of May 17, the military junta announced “the extension of the state of emergency to the entire country” and the closure of all universities. Twenty-four opposition politicians and numerous figures involved in the fight for democracy were arrested.

More than 25,000 soldiers, mainly from the airborne brigades, the 20th Division, and the Marines, were deployed to 136 locations across the country, including 31 universities and television stations, to carry out a large-scale operation to arrest student leaders. On May 18 alone, 549 people were arrested, including 227 students.

On May 18, students in Gwangju organized a demonstration demanding the withdrawal of the airborne brigades. At around 2:30 a.m., troops from the 7th Airborne Brigade and the 31st Division were deployed to Chonnam National University, Chosun University, and eight other technical colleges. The first clashes took place in the morning in front of the main entrance to Chonnam National University. The students, chased by soldiers armed with rifles and batons, took refuge in the city center and continued their demonstration. The police then called in riot police.

In the afternoon, airborne forces entered the streets of Geumnam-ro and Chungjang-ro, indiscriminately striking and arresting passersby. In a single day, more than 400 citizens were arrested and many were injured. The streets of Gwangju were plunged into chaos.

On May 19, driven by anger, citizens gathered again in the city center, while the military used tear gas, indiscriminately arrested young people, beat them, and then loaded them, sometimes naked, into military trucks. For their part, residents continued to resist by erecting barricades using stones, flower pots, sidewalk slabs, and metal barriers. They stood together and sang the national anthem, the “Song of Justice,” and “Our Wish is Reunification,” while continuing to fight.

The confrontation fuels anger, while fear turns into resistance. The clashes become increasingly violent.

On May 20, journalists from Jeonnam Maeil (now Gwangju Ilbo) submitted their collective resignation. The letter is concise, but it perfectly reflects the journalists' sense of dismay and revolt:

“We saw it. We saw with our own eyes people being dragged away like dogs and dying. But we couldn't write a single line in the newspaper. That is why we are putting down our pens in shame.”

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On May 20, as the movement's support base expanded considerably, winning over large sections of the population of Gwangju, the demonstration turned into a widespread uprising.

At around 7 p.m., a procession consisting of a truck, 11 buses, and approximately 200 taxis completely filled Geumnam-ro. With their headlights on and horns blaring, they headed toward the provincial government building. This show of force gave the protesters new energy and marked a real turning point in the uprising.

In response to the media blackout, protesters stormed the MBC and KBS stations and set them on fire. In the evening, violent clashes broke out at Gwangju train station, a strategic point for the transport of military equipment. This is where the first shooting took place: seven civilians were killed, many people were injured, and a soldier died after being hit by a vehicle driven by protesters.

At dawn on May 21, two protesters killed during the previous day's clashes were transported on a cart, covered with the national flag, and brought to Geumnam-ro [2]. The presence of the bodies galvanized the crowd. The street filled with protesters, and the uprising reached its peak. The army general staff then triggered the highest alert level, known as “Jindotgae n.1”. At around 1 p.m., as loudspeakers blared the national anthem from the provincial government building, the 11th Airborne Brigade opened fire on the demonstrators.

In response, the population armed themselves by recovering rifles from civil defense depots in Naju and Hwa-sun, near Gwangju, and prepared to fight back. On May 21 alone, 45 civilians were killed and hundreds more wounded.

Faced with fierce resistance from citizens, martial law troops withdrew from the city center on the afternoon of May 21. They then blocked access to Gwangju, isolating the city from the outside world.

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After the withdrawal of troops, the main roads leading to other regions were blocked and communications suspended, cutting Gwangju off from the rest of the world. However, the city did not collapse and managed to maintain order and organize itself.

Every day, tens of thousands of citizens gather in front of the provincial government headquarters to hold rallies in defense of democracy.

Citizens participate in blood drives, and shopkeepers and women distribute meals to passersby. Gwangju becomes a city free of theft and crime, demonstrating the potential of a new, united community.

Under the strict control of the new military regime, the national media label the citizens as “rioters.” But, despite the danger, foreign journalists enter Gwangju and report that, despite impressive sacrifices, the inhabitants are maintaining order while demanding democracy.

The riots predicted by the regime do not occur. Gwangju realizes, even temporarily, the dream of Daedong Sesang: a society based on autonomy and solidarity.

However, this calm is short-lived. As the truth about the massacre spreads and sympathy for the uprising grows, the new military regime moves toward a radical decision: sending a massive military force to Gwangju. The prospect of bloody repression becomes increasingly palpable.

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The military regime prepares its final suppression operation by deploying the 11th Airborne Brigade and the 20th Division, after obtaining approval from the United States.

On May 26, the military calls on the citizen militias to surrender. However, many residents remain determined to defend the Provincial Office, pledging to resist until the very end. Facing a heavily armed army equipped with tanks and helicopters, they know the fight is almost certainly lost in advance. Yet they choose to risk their lives in the name of the democratic cause.

On the morning of May 27, the military launches its operation to retake control. Seventeen militia members are killed and around 300 are disarmed. After ten days of uprising, 166 people have lost their lives, and approximately 5,000 others have been wounded or arrested.

The echoes of May 18 reappear in the June Democratic Movement of 1987. One year later, the atrocities committed during the suppression of the uprising are officially revealed during the 1988 parliamentary hearing on “The Truth of the Gwangju Democratic Movement.”

In 1995, the Special Act on the May 18 Democratic Movement allows former presidents Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo to be brought to justice.

In 2011, testimonies, judicial records, photographs, videos, newspapers, reporters’ notebooks, and hospital archives related to the events of May 18 are inscribed on UNESCO’s Memory of the World Register.

Though brutally suppressed, the citizens’ struggle for democracy in Gwangju remains alive. It continues to sustain the process of democratization in South Korea and has left a lasting mark on similar movements across Asia.

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In Gwangju, the memory of the events of May 1980 remains an open wound, kept alive through ongoing efforts to commemorate the victims of a brutal repression. This memory has become a fundamental part of the city’s identity.

The remembrance of the massacres, deeply inscribed in the urban landscape, is now omnipresent. It is sustained by a commemorative policy involving the municipality, the May 18 Foundation, the Municipal Archives, and numerous civic organizations.

The Jeonil Building, overlooking May 18 Square, still bears the marks of machine-gun fire from army helicopters that targeted demonstrators gathered there. Several floors of the building have since been transformed into a museum. Similarly, the clock on May 18 Square, already standing in 1980, plays March for the Beloved every day at 5:18 p.m.a song composed in tribute to a young couple who were victims of the repression.

Visitors to Gwangju can also follow a memorial route connecting the main sites associated with the uprising. The route leads from Geumnam Avenue to the Mangwol-dong Cemetery, passing by the former Sangmu military prison, which has since been converted into a museum within what is now known as the “Freedom Park.”

It is also common for May 18 Square formerly the Provincial Government Square to be transformed into an open-air exhibition space. Large reproductions of photographs documenting the uprising and its repression are displayed there, allowing visitors to engage directly with the city’s photographic archives and contributing to the construction of Gwangju’s urban identity.

More recently, many residents of Gwangju mobilized once again in response to President Yoon Suk-yeol’s attempt to impose martial law on December 3, 2024. On December 4, among the crowds gathered in Democracy Square, many survivors of the 1980 repression stood in the front rows determined that the sacrifice of their comrades would not be in vain.

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The events in Gwangju were first documented by Korean press photographers, among whom Na Kyung-taek and Lee Chang-sung stand out. Sent to the scene by their respective newspapers (Gwangju Ilbo and JoongAng Ilbo), they recorded the earliest moments of the uprising.

They were later joined by photographers working for newspapers based in Seoul, followed by foreign journalists. Among them was Philippe Pons, Tokyo correspondent for Le Monde, who arrived in Seoul on May 20 and, starting on May 22, published a series of daily reports from Gwangju.

Several international photographers were also present, including Robin Moyer for The Times, Norman Thorpe for The Wall Street Journal, and the French photographers Patrick Chauvel and François Lochon. Both were members of major photo agencies Sygma for Chauvel and Gamma for Lochon. They worked alongside television reporters, including cameraman Jürgen Hinzpeter, correspondent for the German broadcaster ARD, who arrived in Gwangju on the morning of May 20.

In addition to the extensive work produced by these professional photographers, many of whom were experienced in covering war zones, there were also more modest contributions from amateur photographers. These individuals sought to leave a visual record of the hardships they were witnessing. One such example is Pastor Huntley, who documented the influx of wounded victims and the acts of solidarity surrounding them from within the emergency room of the Gwangju Christian Hospital.

These images reveal not only the challenges faced by photographers but also the relative freedom with which many were able to operate. They can be seen working at times among the military, and at other times in the midst of the demonstrators contradicting the widespread assumption that these photographs were always captured clandestinely under the constant threat of military repression.

Although these visual records were subject to state censorship until the late 1980s, they were later mobilized for their evidentiary value, helping to establish the reality of the repression. Today, they must also be considered as historical objects in their own right as part of a photographic history that examines not only the images themselves, but also the conditions of their production, their circulation, and their various uses over time.