"People like You and Me":The Korean War, Humanitarian Aid, and Creating Compassion
During the 1950s a number of private and voluntary aid organizations (PVOs) in the United States mobilized to address the humanitarian crisis caused by the Korean War. However, the activities and roles PVOs played in both providing humanitarian relief in South Korea and shaping American perceptions of the country are poorly understood. This article examines the strategies PVOs employed in their campaigns to convince Americans to contribute aid. The existence of need was a necessary but not sufficient condition. As scholars of humanitarian aid have argued, potential donors might view images of suffering with pity and sympathy but then quickly turn away. Donors must feel a sense of solidarity to move beyond sympathy and act in compassion. This work demonstrates that PVOs tried to create narratives of commonality between Americans and South Koreans. However, a reliance on images of poverty—which were critical to raise money—conflicted with the message that South Koreans were, like Americans, independent and hardworking people. The aid groups'strategic attempts to mitigate this dissonance by focusing on the supposedly weak (elderly, women, children, and amputees) had the unintended consequence of casting South Korea as an emasculated nation needing to be "saved."
Korean War, private voluntary aid organizations, humanitarianism, compassion
In July 1951, speaking to a crowd in Boston, Massachusetts, General Douglas MacArthur lamented that a lack of resolve on the part of America's leaders had led to a stalemate in the Korean War and that Americans stood "today where we stood before it started."Expressing disgust, he announced that the [End Page 95] only choice for the United States was to accept the "full moral consequences of defeat."1 MacArthur's description of the war, only one year after the conflict commenced, captured the sentiment of many Americans who were frustrated at the seeming inability to defeat a "third-rate communist power."2 As the war dragged on, questions of responsibility for the conflict and the appropriate US strategy for combatting communism not just in Asia but in Europe quickly engulfed American politics and social discourse.3
One area of controversy that simmered in US domestic politics was relief aid. The source of disquiet was twofold: the American public was weary both of fighting this war and of years of calls for financial contributions to reconstruct communities shattered during World War II.4 The US government had long planned for the reconstruction of Europe prior to the conclusion of this conflict. In November 1942 President Franklin D. Roosevelt established the Office of Relief and Rehabilitation; in 1943 he further pushed for the establishment of the UN Relief and Rehabilitation Agency (UNRRA).5 However, though the UNRRA was supposedly an "international" institution, the United States provided the lion's share of financial and human resources to rebuild Europe. The burden became more acute and direct with the disbanding of the UNRRA in 1947 and the subsequent passage of the Marshall Plan in 1948 to provide economic assistance to Europe.
Against a backdrop of a growing desire among many Americans to retreat from the international arena, the Korean War broke out on June 25, 1950. It not only drew the United States back onto the battlefield but also quickly precipitated a humanitarian crisis. The destruction of urban centers and the chaotic migration of Koreans fleeing south created a massive population of displaced persons. By 1951 the United Nations had registered approximately 3 million Koreans as refugees and estimated that 7 million were homeless.6 Despite domestic resistance in the United States to a continued presence abroad, the US government moved to provide foreign assistance to South Korea both directly and, through the United Nations and civilian organizations, indirectly. From an international relations perspective, ensuring the country not only survived but thrived was crucial both to buttress the US government's international prestige and to protect its security interests in East Asia, in particular to stop the spread of communism in the region.7
The US government was not the only source of humanitarian aid sent from America to South Korea, however. Largely overlooked have been the roles played by private and voluntary humanitarian aid organizations (PVOs). This oversight reflects, on the one hand, a general scholarly disinterest, until recently, in global humanitarian aid—both governmental and private. Specifically regarding South Korea, although scholars often refer to the strategic importance of South Korea to the United States, there is a dearth of scholarship on US aid to the country, especially during the 1950s and 1960s.8 Even more glaring, however, is the oversight of the work and lasting impact of PVOs.9 Such groups mobilized to establish local networks of distribution and rehabilitation centers, and many had personnel operating in South Korea long after the armistice was signed in 1953—indeed, [End Page 96] well into the 1980s.10 Collectively, PVOs such as World Vision, the American Korean Foundation (AKF), and Heifer Project International (HPI) would carve out important roles, supporting a variety of social welfare and rehabilitation programs. HPI, for example, supplied resources for faith-based organizations conducting rural reconstruction projects in South Korea, and AKF was involved in a number of major social and medical relief initiatives. Of equal importance, PVOs became the face of the United States in South Korea. Yet, except for a handful of studies and a few passing references,11 these organizations are ignored or poorly understood.12
This article examines PVO strategies to generate interest in the South Korean humanitarian crisis among US citizens. As already mentioned, Americans showed signs of "compassion fatigue" in the wake of World War II and were less willing to contribute to humanitarian causes shortly after 1945.13 Indeed, the late 1940s was a period of decline for PVOs; though World Wars I and II had given rapid rise to US-based PVOs addressing humanitarian needs, from 1941 to 1948 their numbers contracted sharply from 424 to 60. After World War II their real revenue also dropped, from $1.4 billion in 1945 to $263 million in 1952.14 War-stricken South Korea was not immune to the general American public's waning interest in humanitarian aid. The war itself became increasingly unpopular in the United States, as many viewed it as another example of Americans shouldering an unfair burden, in the international arena, in combatting the spread of communism.15 In light of this disdain for the war, coupled with a slowdown in PVO activities, how did PVOs seeking to work in Korea build a sustained campaign that lasted well past 1953?
One key step for PVOs like World Vision, AKF, and HPI to mount effective relief campaigns was the creation of emotional bonds of solidarity and compassion in American society for South Korea. To view this issue from a different perspective, Arissa Oh has explained US interest in adopting Korean children "orphaned"by the Korean War by arguing that Americans desired to assist their government's efforts to combat the spread of communism during the Cold War.16 However, although many Americans may have desired to combat communism, why did this desire find concrete expression in the adoption of children from South Korea?17 To answer this question, she suggested that "basic human compassion"prompted Americans to act.18 Yet, human compassion and the act of providing humanitarian aid are neither "basic"nor natural. Instead, scholars have noted that the supposedly natural emotional desire to aid those in pain is a relatively recent phenomenon, starting in the eighteenth century and connected to the rise of Enlightenment philosophy.19 Furthermore, Bertrand Taithe has argued that, while images of suffering may produce emotions of pity, sympathy, and even empathy, humanitarian and compassionate action requires more than a visceral emotional response. Indeed, constant images of poverty run the danger of desensitizing viewers to suffering.20 Why do some individuals simply turn away from pleas for help while others respond in compassion? According to Taithe, [End Page 97] fundamental to acts of compassion is a sense of solidarity that givers of aid feel with those suffering. This sense of solidarity is both "imagined"and "profoundly encoded culturally,"produced through texts and visual stimuli that together act as "the central mechanism through which compassion might appear and act as a moral imperative."21
PVOs operating in South Korea needed to create discursive representations of the country that emphasized its shared traits with the United States. Taking to newspaper articles, radio advertisements, posters, and pamphlets, those humanitarian relief organizations that worked in South Korea strove to narrow the geographical, cultural, and racial distance most Americans felt from Koreans.22 Put differently, these organizations argued that South Koreans were the same as any average American: self-sufficient and industrious individuals, who opposed communism and embraced both democracy and the American way of life. And yet, this characterization raised an uncomfortable question: why would self-sufficient and industrious individuals require aid?
To address this paradox, humanitarian groups focused on the supposedly "helpless"and "weak" in society: the elderly, women, and children. When young men appeared, they were usually amputees—either civilian victims of war or army veterans. Thus, one result of the campaign for benevolent contributions for South Korea was the portrayal of Koreans as a nation lacking men and too helpless to help itself. This strategy, though perhaps rooted in good intentions, accentuated differences between the United States and South Korea. Indeed, attempting to convince Americans to take interest in South Korea and contribute goods and money for the purpose of relief, PVOs suggested through both texts and images that South Korea was an emasculated nation in need of rescue. In this article I thus argue that the impact of PVOs should be measured not only in terms of financial contributions or the number of relief programs operated but also in terms of their long-lasting and morally complex legacies.
KOREANS: INNOCENT VICTIMS, CHRISTIAN ALLIES
In December 1950, a group of organizations—predominantly Christian—agreed to establish American Relief for Korea (ARK) to address the humanitarian crisis that had arisen on the peninsula as a result of the Korean War.23 In explaining the rationale for this cooperative effort, Robert Bondy, an executive with ARK, noted that contrary to "most of the European countries requiring aid from the US to relieve the hardships of World War II, Korea has no large nationality group in the US to stimulate and support voluntary aid. The task fell principally on the church groups, Protestant and Catholic, whose missionaries had for many years been active in Korea."24 As Bondy's statement suggests, voluntary aid organizations in the United States often were initiated or supported by immigrant communities in the United States, which sought to ameliorate the suffering of those living [End Page 98] in the countries or areas from which they or their ancestors had emigrated. For example, one of the most successful PVOs to form after 1945 was Cooperative for American Remittances to Europe (CARE). As the name suggests, in its initial incarnation the purpose of CARE was to send individualized packages of relief to those in need in Europe after World War II. By 1950 CARE was one of the largest PVOs operating in the United States, and seeking to take advantage of its success, CARE sought to expand beyond Europe. One of the first target countries was South Korea. However, as Heike Wieters has detailed, CARE was popular among Americans in large part because they could earmark packages to specific groups or individuals. Often, immigrants from Europe turned to CARE to send packages back to support families and acquaintances in their home countries. Thus, it should not be surprising that, at least initially, CARE was not effective in South Korea.25
Even with the formation of ARK and its campaign for aid, most Americans were simply not interested in contributing to the relief of the humanitarian plight of Koreans. The mere existence of need was not sufficient to garner support. Poverty, disease, and despair were in abundance worldwide,26 and organizations such as ARK needed to convince potential donors to contribute money, clothing, and other essential items. Toward this end, PVOs needed to create bonds of solidarity that would move Americans to feel compassion for Koreans and take action. One challenge, however, was the racial distance most Americans felt from Koreans.
Complicating the task of producing compassion for South Koreans was an existing popular discourse that took shape shortly after the Korean War commenced. This discourse cast aid to Korea as futile because Koreans were supposedly both lazy and culturally backward. Capturing this sentiment was an article for the Saturday Evening Post, penned in December 1951 by William Worden. While describing conditions in Korea as dire, with refugees fleeing from North Korea and ordinary citizens desperately attempting to survive, Worden presented a pessimistic view of reconstruction efforts. He asserted that the work of the UN Korea Reconstruction Agency (UNKRA) was filled with inefficiencies and extreme waste because South Korea was socially, politically, and economically backward. He lamented that since its liberation from colonial rule, Korea had been a country dependent on outside support. Furthermore, the economy was so poor that the standard of living was low "even by Oriental standards."27 Medical conditions were deplorable, and there was little political freedom, as "police brutality"marked the presidency of Syngman Rhee. Even more condemning, Worden criticized what he perceived to be deficiencies in Korean character. He recounted one incident where a line of refugees streaming out of Seoul held up a convoy of UN trucks also attempting to leave the city. The cause of the slow pace was a woman trying to carry five packages "while her husband calmly stood by, watching her efforts."28 Korean men, apparently, were lazy and refused to engage in physical labor. One UN officer remarked to Worden that Koreans had "to help themselves or we'll never get anything done in Korea. That means forgetting customs and seeing that even the men do some of the work."29 [End Page 99]
Worden's article and the idea that Koreans or Korean culture played a role in the country's backwardness and inability to respond to the humanitarian crisis posed a problem for PVOs like ARK. Described as an impoverished police state dependent on outside forces, South Korea seemed nothing like the United States—a supposedly free democracy filled with independently minded and hardworking individuals. Moreover, the suggestion that Korean men refused to work went against dominant American stereotypes of the day regarding the gender roles for men and women. Taken together, Worden's article indicated that aid sent to Korea would be squandered because of the dependence of the country on others and a lack of a resolve on the part of Korean men to work hard.
To combat characterizations of South Korea as being autocratic and full of lazy men, groups like ARK conducted aggressive advertising campaigns to convince the American public that Koreans were, in fact, industrious and shared many points of commonality with those living in the United States. These campaigns advanced three messages: (1) Koreans were innocent victims, (2) Koreans and Americans were (Christian) allies in a struggle against the forces of communism, and (3) Koreans were committed to self-help. The first two messages were often intertwined, appearing alongside each other. For example, in 1952 ARK ran a national used-clothing collection drive. As a part of this effort, it established local committees throughout the United States. Each local committee received a manual and promotional packet detailing how to organize and how to advertise the drive. Local committees had at the ready a detailed fact sheet on South Korea, quotes from prominent Americans and South Koreas, and scripts for press releases and radio interviews. Furthermore, the promotional packet included posters to be placed in the windows of local stores and fliers to be mailed to local residents.
The ARK promotional materials, from print media to audio and visual aids, consistently advanced a simple message: Koreans were not the authors of their own suffering. Instead, these materials emphasized that "Korean civilians, men, women, and children, are innocent victims of cruel and unprovoked aggression."30 The notion that South Koreans were suddenly, without any forewarning, invaded by North Korea and driven from their homes constituted an important plank of ARK's call for aid. South Koreans were refugees not because of sloth or mismanagement of resources but because of a war that was "unprovoked"and could not have been anticipated.31 As news breaks and editorials prepared by ARK lamented, millions of Koreans were without shelter, homes were in "ashes,"and roads were "choked with endless processions of refugees with all their worldly possessions in bundles on their back"because of this communist aggression.32 Advertisements for the ARK fundraising drive stressed that, through no fault of their own, already 2 million Koreans had perished in the war and that millions more would die if Americans failed to take immediate action.33
Alongside the message of South Korea's victimhood, those campaigning for aid stressed that Koreans were in an alliance with Americans in a struggle against "world forces beyond their control."34 "World forces"was a euphemism for the [End Page 100] Soviet Union and referred to the supposed communist efforts to take control of the globe. Though many Americans may have been weary of the continued US presence in Korea, the issue of the looming communist threat was a visible part of American politics, as indicated by the Second Red Scare and McCarthyism, which both overlapped with the Korean War. Casting the conflict as a proxy war, ARK opined that South Koreans were fighting and, more important, dying for democracy and the American way of life. For instance, one of the few Koreans known in the United States at the time was Helen Kim, president of Ewha College, and a quote attributed to her appeared in the ARK manual. It valiantly remarked that Koreans "don't talk about our losses or the relatives killed, because we think and live in terms of sacrificing ourselves on the altar of freedom."35 American audiences would have readily understood that freedom here referred to democracy and that its unnamed opponent was communism. Even more explicit was a poster by the Save the Children Federation, a founding member of ARK. Under the picture of a distressed Korean child standing in a pile of rubble with outstretched arms, a caption read: "This child is the victim of Communist aggression. Thousands of other children like him—many of them children of Korean patriots who died in defense of liberty—are homeless and destitute."36 The question posed by this type of poster and slogan was whether Americans would turn a blind eye to the suffering of their ally in Asia or whether they would "save" innocent victims like these children, who were being orphaned as their parents died fighting for democracy and freedom.
The same message of needing to remember America's ally in East Asia animated an editorial in Life, whose founder and editor in chief, Henry Luce, was an early supporter of AKF. In April 1953 Life criticized "isolationists"who clamored that the United States should not "risk another American even for a million Gooks."37 Rejecting this racist epithet that cast South Koreans as an unimportant and faceless other, the editorial argued that the fighting spirit and prowess of the South Korean army had proven to American soldiers on the peninsula that the term gooks was not applicable to South Koreans. The two peoples fought side by side against a common enemy: communism. In a similar vein, Howard Rusk, the eventual chair of AKF, penned an article for Life the following year, in which he directly called on Americans to provide for the relief and rehabilitation of their East Asian ally. He opined that the United States owed a debt that could never be repaid to South Koreans for their "steadfastness"even in the midst of tremendous material suffering. The least Americans could do was to "repay them in the currency of friendship by helping them with their comeback."38 In response to those who argued that the United States had accomplished enough by fighting in the war, Rusk admitted that the United States had "paid in blood and lives"to combat the communist spread in Korea but countered that "little Korea lost twice as many of its people as the US lost in World War I, World War II and Korea combined. Yet, despite all their suffering, the Koreans remain unsubdued."39 [End Page 101]
To buttress the notion that South Koreans were allies with Americans in fighting against communism, many PVOs also emphasized South Korea's importance as a bastion for the Christian faith in East Asia.40 Though only 2–3 percent of the South Korean population was in fact Christian at the time of the Korean War,41 missionaries to Korea had long reported that Koreans were receptive to the gospel. For example, the number of Korean Christians in the P'yŏngyang region, and the fervency of their belief, was so great that by the 1930s the city was known in the West as the Jerusalem of the East. Many PVOs stressed this past history and emphasized that the Korean War represented an attempt by communist forces to extinguish Christianity on the East Asian mainland.42 For instance, the ARK manual included a fact sheet for local organizers of the used clothing drive that highlighted the "Christian"spirit of South Korea. Of the eight "useful"facts provided, three concerned Christianity. South Korea was described as "the most Christian land in the Orient,"with a population of 1 million Christians and strong native churches, and full of devoted Koreans who "maintain[ed] the faith that God will turn evil into good."43 Likewise, ARK's campaigns were replete with Christian imagery and slogans. Indeed, the name of the organization itself was a Biblical reference to Noah's Ark.
The characterization of South Korea as a Christian nation fighting against communism—and the responsibility of Americans, in Christian solidarity, to assist Koreans—was fundamental to the campaigns of World Vision, an organization founded in 1950 by Bob Pierce, a Baptist pastor. Pierce had traveled to Korea before, during, and after the outbreak of the Korean War, often carrying his recording equipment to document events taking place in the country. One of Pierce's fundraising techniques was to show short films he helped produce to Americans in different cities to convince them of the need to contribute. In 1954 Pierce held a World Vision meeting in Portland, Oregon—where the organization was headquartered—to exhort local residents to contribute money or commit to sponsoring a Korean orphan. Two films were shown at the meeting, including the thirty-eight-minute Dead Men on Furlough, directed by John O'Dea. Based on a supposedly true story, Dead Men on Furlough established that South Koreans were upright Christians who were valiantly standing up against communism at great personal cost. The title of the film was a direct quotation of Lenin's 1917 definition of communists, and it was cast as a struggle between communism and the denial of religion versus democracy and the Christian faith.
The main protagonist of the film is a South Korean village pastor, surnamed Ch'oe. After the opening scene, which establishes Ch'oe as a man of faith and the local leader of a rural community of Korean Christians, the movie jumps to the evacuation of his village before the imminent arrival of the North Koreans. Ch'oe, with the assistance of Pierce, courageously oversees the evacuation of as many children, women, and elderly as he can. When reminded by his wife that because of his status as a pastor he could be targeted for persecution by the invading communist army, Ch'oe calmly declares his faith that all events have a [End Page 102] heavenly purpose and that God's will ultimately prevails. During the subsequent occupation, he leads the remaining villagers to engage in subversive resistance against the North Korean army by burning crops or refusing to work in the fields for their occupiers. Angered, the North Korean army officer in charge imprisons the villagers and threatens the safety of their children. In response to the grumblings of his followers, who believe it would be easier to comply with the demands of the North Korean officials, Ch'oe cautions them against believing the "lies"of the communists. He warns that Lenin had promised peace and prosperity, but for the past forty years the Soviet Union and communism have brought death and destruction. Citing this history, Ch'oe questions the villagers whether they will believe the communists' empty promises or the promises of their God.
The film reaches a climax when the North Korean officer demands that Ch'oe publicly declare to the villagers his error in resisting communism. If he refuses, his son or wife will be harmed, perhaps even murdered. Lamenting the inhumanity of the communists, Ch'oe reluctantly appears in front of the villagers. But, much to the surprise of his North Korean "oppressors,"he affirms his rejection of communism and his devotion to Christianity. As Ch'oe continues to express his commitment to God and liberty, a North Korean soldier pulls out his pistol and shoots Ch'oe multiple times. The film concludes with Pierce appearing in front of Ch'oe's widow, after the village has been liberated. He remarks that the recent events serve as a reminder that individuals can no longer remain neutral with regard to communism. One must either choose "communism or democracy, God or hell."In the case of Ch'oe and other South Korean Christians like him, Pierce declares that "the few who had so little have done so much, while the many of us who have had so much have done so little."44
Dead Man on Furlough strove to convince those who attended the World Vision fundraising event that South Korea was a Christian nation committed to freedom and therefore both culturally and religiously like the United States. Christians like Ch'oe exhibited a clear understanding of the "evils"and treachery of communism and refused to be swayed by its empty promises. They instead stood on the front lines of the struggle, using their faith to defend democracy even at great personal cost. The question Pierce and World Vision posed to those watching the film was whether Americans, who had been blessed with riches and wealth, would make a similar choice and respond in kind to support their suffering Korean Christian comrades.
KOREANS: COMMITTED TO SELF-HELP
As noted above, in his criticism of the work of UNKRA in South Korea William Worden had asserted that conditions in the country would not improve unless Koreans "helped themselves."45 From ARK to AKF, PVOs sought to convince the American public that Koreans were, in fact, industrious and stoically working [End Page 103] hard even in the most adverse of conditions. A particularly pointed example of this appeared in a filmstrip created by the Methodist Episcopal Church (MEC), also a member of ARK.46 MEC had long been active in Korea, with its first missionary having arrived in 1885. By 1941 most missionaries heeded the advice of the US State Department and left the Korean Peninsula.47 But Methodist missionaries returned shortly after the conclusion of World War II and began campaigning for funding and goods for the country. In spring 1953 MEC's Radio and Film Commission produced "Late News from Korea"to be used in a fundraising effort.48 Approximately seventeen minutes long, the filmstrip consisted of three parts, with each showing a series of still pictures of conditions in South Korea and a narrator explaining the destruction caused by the war, the suffering of civilians, and how Americans could assist.49
The third section of the filmstrip concerned Methodist relief efforts in South Korea and how people could contribute. The effectiveness of this call for contributions relied on the first two sections. The first focused on the destruction of the country and the humanitarian crisis that confronted South Koreans. Images of destroyed buildings and ragtag women and children flashed across the screen, with the narrator stressing the calamity that confronted Koreans. In one poignant scene, he opined that the ones living in "ramshackle hovels"next to open sewer lines were the lucky ones, as many lacked access to basic shelter. Showing a picture of two young children huddled in a ball attempting to sleep outside, the narrator drove home the seriousness of the situation in South Korea by lamenting that often some who slept in the fields would be found in the morning frozen to death.
After establishing the extent of the humanitarian crisis in South Korea, the filmstrip presented a rosier and more optimistic portrayal of conditions in the country. The second section emphasized the industrious and self-sufficient character of Korean Methodists, as the narrator cautioned the audience not to assume "that our friends in Korea have been standing by, wringing their hands, making no effort to help themselves."Rather, the filmstrip offered examples of resilient Koreans making do with meager means and working hard to "keep their church, our church working for Christ."Koreans met for worship services in makeshift tents, pastors remained steadfast in meeting for dawn prayer meetings, and young women engaged in daily Bible studies in preparation to become itinerant evangelists. The narrator stressed that these efforts to not merely survive but to grow Methodism—a task Korean and American Methodists shared—even in the face of adverse conditions relied on the assiduousness of Koreans. This depiction stood in contrast to Worden's negative and pessimistic assessment cited above. "Late News from Korea"pointed to the commitment of Koreans to hard work and the hope for the future this hard work inspired. Referencing these multiple acts of diligence, the narrator exclaimed that "brothers and sisters [Korean Christians] trying so hard to help themselves merit help from us."It was incumbent on Methodist Americans to assist Koreans to become "once again self-supportive"through charitable donations. [End Page 104]
Groups like ARK, AKF, and MEC all emphasized the concept that Koreans were committed to hard work and self-help. This idea was key, for these PVOs were requesting donations not only for relief but also for the rehabilitation of Korea. These contributions, in theory, would help Koreans regain their footing and lead productive and independent lives. Donations would neither be fleeting nor wasted; they would instead have lasting impact. Indeed, not only PVOs but also government bodies understood the public value of casting humanitarian relief and rehabilitation efforts in terms of self-help. For instance, in the winter of 1950, the United Nations established UNKRA on the assumption that the Korean War was fast approaching its conclusion. However, it confronted complications in carving out spaces to carry on its programs as the war continued; both the UN Command and the UN Civil Assistance Corps Korea were hesitant to allow nonmilitary personnel to operate in the country. Reporting on the tense relationship with military officials, the deputy agent of UNKRA recognized that whatever program UNKRA chose to approve first, "the attitude towards it of the Military Authorities when it is submitted to them, will be a crucial test of what it will, or will not, be possible for UNKRA to do in Korea during the present Financial Year."50 It was thus vital that UNKRA's first rehabilitation project be successful and publicly well received. With this in mind, UNKRA chose to work with Heifer Project International (HPI).
HPI was the brainchild of Dan West. Born in 1893, West was a farmer from Indiana and a member of the Church of the Brethren, one of the three historic peace churches that emphasize Christian pacifism. In 1936 he volunteered for the Emergency Peace Campaign and worked in Spain, where he witnessed pervasive hunger. Pessimistic about the long-term impact of passing out rations, West decided that the best way to end hunger was to contribute not milk but cows. Not only would the cows provide a steady source of nutrition, but ideally heifers would mate and produce calves. Those groups and families that received cows could then donate calves to others in need, multiplying the initial gift.51 Upon returning to the United States, West embarked on actualizing his vision, and with support from his friends and the Church of the Brethren, in 1939 he established the Heifers for Relief Committee.
UNKRA chose to work with HPI to transport first chicken eggs—which would hatch after arrival—and then pigs, goats, rabbits, and heifers to South Korea.52 The work of HPI in Korea and the positive publicity it generated directly benefitted UNKRA. As one official noted, "the cash value of their [HPI] contribution is the least valuable part of it."Rather, the success of these shipments lay in the "grass roots support that the programme has gained for UNKRA."53
A major reason for the positive reception of the work of HPI both among leaders within the UN Command and in the United States was that it tapped into a value articulated in Ralph Waldo Emerson's 1841 essay "Self-Reliance,"which emphasized the responsibility incumbent on individuals to look within rather than relying on outside assistance. Likewise, Americans emphasized the value [End Page 105] of hard work and self-help. Narratives of resilience and self-reliance of South Koreans were crucial to creating bonds of solidarity in the hearts and minds of Americans. Even in the midst of hardship, Koreans were neither deterred nor distracted; they were instead focused and diligent. They may have met an unfortunate set of circumstances, but Koreans were hardworking and full of good character, just like Americans. In the words of "Late News from Korea,"Koreans were "people like you and me, working hard, trying to get along, raising families, and worshipping God."
FROM SELF-RELIANT KOREANS TO "NO MEN, ONLY WIDOWS AND CHILDREN"
In 1966 Howard Rusk, as chair of AKF, gave an interview to This Week emphasizing the much-admired spirit of self-help among South Koreans, for Americans. Yet, perhaps uncomfortable with the fact that more than a decade after the signing of the armistice his organization was still providing "aid"to South Korea, Rusk justified a program to build low-cost housing by clarifying that AKF did not "give"Koreans homes but, rather, gave them funds to get them started on their own. Curiously, his explanation quickly veered off topic. After stating that "the Koreans build the homes themselves,"Rusk continued,
Take the village of Shin-Ae. There are no men there, no one but widows and children—several hundred helpless people. There is, for example, Mrs. Choe Young-Ja who, as a young bride with a one-month old baby on her back, fled with her husband from North Korea several years before the war broke out. She became a teacher and he a medical officer; they had four more children. Then her husband was killed in the war and their home destroyed. For years she and her family had no place to live except under bridges or in makeshift tents. And, as I say, there were many more like her.54
Rusk's sudden shift from emphasizing Korean self-sufficiency to stating there were no men revealed an underlying concern of aid organizations like AKF. A tension existed between the notion of self-help and the need for continued assistance. The rhetoric of victimhood, though perhaps intended to demonstrate that Koreans were not at fault for their plight, suggested passivity and clashed with the equally important characterization of Koreans as committed to self-help. Why would an individual who was committed to self-help require or accept aid?
Rusk emphasized that Korea lacked men capable of conducting the work needed to reconstruct the country. Based on his observations, an American might assume that South Korea was populated by only women and children. Rusk's answer was not an aberration. In many of the promotional materials discussed above, able-bodied men were largely absent. If men appeared, they were often amputees—debilitated by the war but seeking to become rehabilitated and [End Page 106] useful members of society. Indeed, the founders of AKF initially recruited Rusk to join their fledgling project because of his status as one of the world's foremost experts on prosthetics and rehabilitative medical science, and one of AKF's major programs was running a rehabilitative medical center at Tongnae, South Korea.55 Even so, images of young men, "disabled"or not, were relatively rare among the promotional materials prepared by PVOs. Instead, these materials largely focused on the elderly or women and children—in particular, war widows and orphans. Pictures of a haggard-looking woman with a child on her back or a solitary child in tattered clothing with outstretched hands begging for food dominated advertisements calling for aid. These people represented the weak, the vulnerable, and the helpless and could be considered true victims of the Korean conflict without impugning the determination of Koreans generally to work hard.
But these same images would have an effect beyond their intended purpose. Though the aid organizations used them in hopes of procuring contributions to benefit South Korea, this approach had the unfortunate side effect of presenting the country as enfeebled. Images of destruction and suffering in South Korea, though necessary to convince Americans of the dire need in the country, served as a subtle reminder of the differences between Americans and Koreans, as the former provided aid and the latter received. Stated differently, the constant representations of "helpless"women and children cast South Korea as an emasculated nation, lacking men who could build houses, provide for their families, and raise children. The logical conclusion was that the women and children of South Korea required saving—the exact opposite of the message concerning the industrious and resilient character of Koreans that humanitarian groups tried to emphasize.
A short feature produced for television by AKF illustrates this contradictory message of resilience yet needing to be rescued. The feature, "Letter from Korea,"aired in NBC's Sunday afternoon 3:30–4:00 time slot on June 7, 1953. It kicked off what President Dwight Eisenhower had declared to be "Aid to Korea Week" (presidential proclamation 3018, 67 Stat. C45, June 1, 1953). Framed as a letter written by a private in the US Army describing his experiences in Korea to his young son, Tommy, back home, the film commences with Tommy discovering an envelope from his father on the kitchen table. He eagerly opens the envelope, discovers a Korean trinket—a gift from his father—and then proceeds to read the letter.56 At this point, the voice of Tommy's father takes over and the scene transitions to Korea.
The main focus of the feature is the relationship that forms between Tommy's father, Thomas Smith, and a young Korean boy named Kim Han-yun. Thomas opens by explaining to his son that Kim was similar to Tommy. He states that Kim "reminds me of you. Not in looks, but in the things he does—funny little things. I suppose boys everywhere do them."Kim, a refugee, has arrived alone in Pusan, having been separated from his parents as they fled from the invading North Korean army. At first, he holds out hope that he will find his parents and remains adamant that he will not beg; he would rather starve. However, hunger [End Page 107] eventually overwhelms him. Like many other refugee children, he joins a local "gang,"led by a ruthless man who forces the boys to collect a certain amount of money each day if they wish to eat. If they fail, then they are physically abused. Though conditions in the gang are harsh, the children have little choice. As explained by one boy in response to Kim's question why the children did not run away after being beaten: "You do—the first time. But then you come back—because you are hungry."
When he first meets Tommy's father, Kim feigns being crippled in order to beg for money. After he is discovered to be, in fact, able-bodied, Kim runs off. However, reminded of his son back in the United States, Thomas commits to helping Kim, whom he finds the following day. Kim becomes a "mascot"for Thomas's platoon.57 Several weeks later, however, Thomas learns that his unit would depart in three days. He sets out to find an orphanage for Kim, but they are all filled. At the last moment, he learns of an orphanage founded and funded by rank-and-file American soldiers and secures a spot for Kim. Several months later, Thomas's unit returns to Pusan, and he visits the orphanage. He finds a fully rehabilitated Kim, who announces that while he has discovered that his parents have, in fact, perished, he is grateful for his good fortune and now looks forward to his future with renewed hope. Expressing gratitude to Thomas, he hands over a special good luck charm that he has inherited from his father—his last material memento of his parents. He asks Thomas to give the charm to his son so that Tommy will "know that I [Kim] am grateful for his father who was kind to me when I had no father."This charm is the trinket in the envelope that Tommy had received in the opening scene of the short feature.
In sum, "Letter from Korea"sought to create a sense of solidarity with and compassion for South Korea by emphasizing the many traits Americans shared with Koreans. To begin with, the feature focused on Kim, who despite the obvious physical differences was cast as a boy like any other American boy—who even reminded Thomas of his own son back home. Second, Kim was described as an innocent victim. A child, he was not responsible for being a refugee. He was forced to flee the advance of the North Korean army and in the chaos lost contact with his parents. Third, even though only a child, Kim's natural inclination was to be self-reliant and upright, as he initially eschewed begging and vowed to maintain his dignity. While the will to survive eventually drove him to beg and even to engage in deviant behavior, Kim was rehabilitated with only a little bit of kindness and care. Put differently, he once again became a potentially productive member of South Korean society; all that was needed was the guidance of a caring American father figure to help him regain his footing and, importantly, funds to support infrastructure like orphanages.
Yet, at the same time the feature undermined the ideas that South Koreans were fully self-reliant and just like Americans. To begin with, Korean adults were conspicuously absent. South Korea appeared to be a land of parentless children. The only Korean male adult mentioned in the feature—and never shown—was the [End Page 108] leader of Kim's gang, who exploited children rather than acted as their protector. Furthermore, if Kim represented all of Korea, then the message was that, without assistance, Koreans were incapable of overcoming the material realities of war and the international political climate. South Koreans needed outside intervention and assistance in order to be "saved."
CONCLUSION
According to AKF, from 1950 to 1953 the total amount of voluntary donations pledged to Korea around the world approximated $15 million. While not insignificant, this figure was "not large either by international philanthropic standards nor by the extent of need in Korea."58 To make this point clear, AKF noted that, in response to the 1953 North Sea flood, the world had contributed approximately $27 million in cash and over 22 million articles of clothing to the Dutch in a period of mere months. Americans, and the Western world in general, were concerned with ameliorating the suffering in Europe and ready to contribute great amounts. In contrast, Americans were apparently not as eager to commit money to Korea, even though the humanitarian crisis there was both acute and ongoing.
One reason for the discrepancy in the level of support rested in the greater affinity that many Americans felt for their European brethren. For Koreans, aid agencies needed to manufacture the connective bonds that would lead Americans to act compassionately toward South Korea. The US public had to be convinced not only of the need in Korea, which was well publicized in newspapers, popular magazines, radio advertisements, and local churches, but also that Koreans were deserving of aid. But the effort to establish emotional bonds of solidarity between Americans and South Koreans ultimately resulted in an emasculated caricature of the latter. While PVOs like ARK, operating in an environment where most Americans were unconcerned for the plight of South Koreans, tried to confront and answer a discourse that portrayed South Koreans as fundamentally backward and, as a result, undeserving, the resultant campaign for humanitarian aid to South Korea created another unequal misrepresentation of the country. The very strategies employed by the various humanitarian aid organizations to raise funds reinforced prejudices that South Koreans, though perhaps innocent victims, were dependent on outside assistance for survival. In this manner, these campaigns highlighted the differences between Americans and Koreans. As Sanna Nissinen has observed in the present day, humanitarian photography raises ethical concerns for PVOs, because images capture only a partial picture of the vitality of different cultures and societies and thus carry the danger of casting those suffering in poverty as passive or helpless.59 Likewise, in the case of 1950s aid work for South Korea, the images of orphans, widows, and the physically disabled provided a limited view of the country and conveyed the idea that Koreans were weak, imperiled, and in need of "saving." [End Page 109]
These portrayals of feebleness had real ramifications in how PVOs operated and how Americans engaged South Korea. One significant example concerns the rapid rise of international adoption. To return to the 1954 World Vision meeting held in Portland, Oregon, the stated goal of this meeting was to secure monetary donations to support the general work of World Vision in Korea or to sponsor Korean orphans, who would remain in South Korea. However, the event took on a different historical significance because of the attendance of Harry and Bertha Holt. As noted above, two short movies were shown at this fundraiser. After Dead Men on Furlough, the audience watched Other Lambs, which focused on Korean War widows and orphans. The film asserted that Korean society valued racial purity and would "never"accept the offspring produced from the relationships of Korean women and American men, mostly soldiers stationed in the country. The Holts at first pledged money to sponsor children in the country, yet the film's assertion burned in their minds.60 They left the meeting still burdened by the images they had witnessed on the screen, believing that no level of aid or rehabilitation would permit Korean American children to be integrated into Korean society and that they needed to be "rescued."By the spring of 1955, the Holts decided to physically welcome Korean children into their home by adopting eight mixed-raced children from South Korea.61
The Holts precipitated a wave of adoptions first from the Korean Peninsula and subsequently from around the globe. They assisted others in adopting from South Korea, and their work would eventually lead to the formation of the Holt International Adoption Agency.62 Though perhaps motivated by concerns for children's welfare, the work of the Holts would have a negative impact on the lives of many adoptees. Many South Korean children were adopted by duplicitous means—taken from unsuspecting parents and placed in unfit homes in the United States. Moreover, many South Korean adoptees found—ironically, given the Holts' original motivations—integrating into American society to be fraught with challenges.63 South Korea's portrayal as an emasculated nation, filled with supposedly "helpless"women and children in need of being "saved,"resulted in untold traumas for countless Korean children and families. [End Page 110]
Paul S. Cha is assistant professor of Korean studies and modern Korean history at the University of Hong Kong.
NOTES
An earlier version of the manuscript was presented at a workshop held at UCLA in honor of John B. Duncan. I am grateful for his steady guidance and sage wisdom. Special thanks go to Jennifer Jung-Kim and Franklin Rausch for reading previous drafts of the manuscript. I also thank two anonymous peer reviewers for their insightful comments, which were instrumental in reshaping this article. Research funding for this article was provided by the Research Grants Council of Hong Kong (General Research Fund project 1765916).
2. Saturday Evening Post, "Korea Is No Triumph,"10.
3. Saturday Evening Post, "Moscow Turns on the Heat in Asia"; Life, "Korean Issue"; Saturday Evening Post, "This Time People Insist"; Saturday Evening Post, "Next on Agenda."
4. Bertrand Taithe has examined how "compassion fatigue" informs humanitarian aid work in multiple manners. One of its aspects is the weariness of donors. See Taithe, "Compassion Fatigue,"252–55.
5. For examination of early projects conducted by the UNRRA and their historical significance, see the July 2008 special issue of the Journal of Contemporary History, "Relief in the Aftermath of War"(edited by Jessica Reinisch), which focused on emergency relief aid in post–World War II Europe.
6. Church World Services, "An Editorial or Article for Church Papers,"Brethren Service Commission, Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, box 1, folder 19, Brethren Historical Library and Archives, Elgin, IL.
8. Ibid., 4–5.
9. Since the early 2000s a growing number of scholars have examined the important roles PVOs have played in humanitarian relief efforts and their complex relationships with both local communities and governments. This scholarly attention reflects the current ascendance of PVOs in the humanitarian aid market. For instance, in 2005 PVOs accounted for nearly 60 percent of nearly $27 billion in worldwide aid. See Büthe, Major, and Mello e Souza, "Politics of Private Foreign Aid,"572.
10. In 1958 PVOs contributed $69 million in aid to South Korea. See Ekbladh, Great American Mission, 144.
11. Ekbladh, Great American Mission; Brady, "Sowing War, Reaping Peace"; Yi P., "Han-Mi Chaedan"; Yi S., "1952–1955-yŏn Han-Mi chaedan."Brady (356–57) mentions Heifer for Relief in passing while discussing UN environmental rehabilitation programs in South Korea.
12. One practice in Korean-language scholarship has been to view PVOs as an extension of US Cold War strategy. In line with larger studies on the cultural Cold War, the argument has been that US officials believed that Koreans would be more receptive to aid from private sources than from the US government. Yi Pong-bŏm, for example, in examining AKF, pointed to how many early leaders had close relations to the White House and money provided by the CIA and argued that this organization was, in fact, a US government organization. AKF certainly had close ties to the White House, and the board comprised a number of high-profile American elites. Yet, as both Rachel M. McCleary and Heike Wieters have argued, even though PVOs often have complex and troubling ties to governments, they must be understood as private institutions with interests that diverge from the state. Indeed, a close examination of the personal letters and reports of Howard Rusk, who would eventually serve as president of AKF, demonstrates that simplistic characterizations of this organization as representing US government interests or objectives is unfounded. See Yi P., "Naengjŏn kwa wŏnjo,"224–33; McCleary, Global Compassion, 3–35; Wieters, NGO CARE, 2–8.
13. McCleary and Barro, "Private Voluntary Organization,"511–13; Taithe, "Compassion Fatigue,"243–44.
14. McCleary and Barro, "Private Voluntary Organization,"519.
15. Saturday Evening Post, "This Time People Insist"; Saturday Evening Post, "Next on Agenda."
17. Heon-ik Kwon has called for a need to understand the Cold War from a bottom-up as opposed to a top-down perspective. By this, he strove to avoid the assumption that societal actors necessarily simply adopt and replicate the concerns or views held by their respective governments. By a similar token, the American public providing humanitarian aid to South Korea cannot simply be assumed to stem from adopting governmental efforts to combat communism. See Kwon, Other Cold War.
19. See Curtis, Holy Humanitarians; Hunt, Inventing Human Rights; Zuckert, Launching Liberalism; Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy; and Halttunen, "Humanitarianism and the Pornography of Pain."
22. Steven Casey has examined how the US government actively strove to use the media to "sell"the American public on the merits and necessity of the Korean War. In a similar fashion, PVOs sought to sell the American public on the merits and necessity of providing humanitarian relief in South Korea. See Casey, Selling the Korean War.
23. Founding member agencies of ARK were the American Friends Service Committee (Quakers), Brethren Service Commission, Church World Service, Labor League for Human Rights, American Federation of Labor, Lutheran World Relief, Mennonite Central Committee, Save the Children Federation, War Relief Services–National Catholic Welfare Conference, World Student Service Fund, and Young Women's Christian Association–World Emergency Fund.
24. "Summary of American Relief for Korea, INC. for Representatives of Various National Organizations,"United Methodist Committee on Relief, 2041-3-6:07 (American Relief for Korea 1952–53), General Commission on Archives and History, United Methodist Church, Drew University, Madison, NJ.
26. Humanitarian aid was, and still is, a competitive market, as many calls for donations, both at home and abroad, clamored for Americans' attention. In large part because of this reality, as Taithe has argued, PVOs typically make conscious decisions to both focus and highlight those "deserving"of aid, such as children, as opposed those who supposedly were responsible for their own misfortune, such as alcoholics or prostitutes. See Taithe, "Compassion Fatigue,"247.
28. Ibid., 100.
29. Ibid.
30. "Press Release," in Manual of Recommended Procedures for Organization and Promotion of Local ARK Clothing Collection Campaigns, WAB: Church World Service Records, 1925–69, series 2, box 1, folder 9, Burke Library Archives, Columbia University Libraries, Union Theological Seminary, New York.
31. Ongoing border clashes had led up to the outbreak of the Korean War on June 25, 1950. In this sense, the invasion was neither sudden nor unprovoked.
32. "Radio Spots and Station Breaks," in Manual of Recommended Procedures.
33. Ibid.
34. "Orphans of the Storm: Innocent Victims of Cruel and Unprovoked Aggression in Korea,"Brethren Service Commission, Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, box 1, folder 19, Brethren Historical Library and Archives, Elgin, IL.
35. "Quotes," in Manual of Recommended Procedures.
36. "Children of Korea Need Your Help,"WAB: Church World Service Records, 1925–69, series 2, box 1, folder 9, Burke Library Archives, Columbia University Libraries, Union Theological Seminary, New York.
39. Ibid.
40. Christian symbolism, if not explicit Christian arguments, were advanced by many PVOs. However, many PVOs also avoided overt Christian arguments. As the United States became more secular and with the rise of influential non-Christian Americans (in particular, those from the Jewish faith), advertisements that were explicitly Christian were viewed as exclusionary.
42. Dianne Kirby called the Cold War a religious war between Christianity and communism. See Kirby, "Religion and the Cold War."
43. "Facts on Korea," in Manual of Recommended Procedures.
44. At the end of this monologue, the film concludes by playing the melody to the Christian hymn "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus"as the screen fades to black. Composed of four verses, the hymn repeats four lines: (1) "I have decided to follow Jesus"; (2) "The world behind me, the cross before me"; (3) "Though none go with me, still I will follow"; and (4) "Will you decide to follow Jesus?"The obvious challenge being posed to the audience was whether they would follow the cause of God in standing firm against communism. O'Dea, Dead Men on Furlough.
46. MEC's participation in ARK was through its membership in Church World Service.
48. "Late News from Korea,"Methodist Committee for Overseas Relief, 1953, Records of the United Methodist Church General Board of Higher Education and Ministry, 1883–1992, 2604-5-1:2, General Commission on Archives and History, United Methodist Church, Drew University, Madison, NJ.
49. Adding to the emotional experience was an organ playing, for example, dissonant chords to express distress.
50. Deputy-Agent General, Letter to Agent General of UNKRA, October 1, 1951, UNKRA, series 526, box 1, folder 8, Archives and Records Management, United Nations, New York.
53. Bill Reiche to Helen Wilson, July 1, 1952, UNKRA, series 526, box 20, folder 3, Archives and Records Management, United Nations, New York.
56. "Letter from Korea,"television script, produced and directed by William Corrigan, NBC, aired June 7, 1953, Howard Rusk Papers, collection 3981, folder 323, State Historical Society of Missouri, Columbia, MO.
57. This was a common practice during the Korean War. As Arissa Oh has explored, though these "adopted"mascots often served as ready human-interest stories for news agencies seeking to expound on the good done by American GIs, the reality and final fate of these Korean orphans were often negative. Mascots could be understood as exploited and were often abandoned once platoons moved on. Many mascots who were placed in orphanages found conditions poor and would run away, returning to the streets. See Oh, To Save the Children, 31–38.
58. Rusk Mission to Korea, "Report of the Rusk Mission to Korea, March 11–18, 1953,"Howard Rusk Papers, collection 3981, folder 288, State Historical Society of Missouri, Columbia, MO.
