Meanwhile, the economics of the community changed. Many Koreans continued to
work in fishing and mining, but others discovered even better - although more
difficult - jobs that were compatible with their poor education and peculiar
legal situation. They switched to private vegetable farming. As a professor of
the local university, himself born on Sakhalin in the 1950s, remarked, "Without
Koreans we would not starve, perhaps, but we would have to live on the almost
inedible stuff they shipped here from the continent. You cannot imagine the
disgusting taste of dried potatoes and dried onions which used to be our staple
food before the Korean farms flourished."
Indeed, since 1960 or so Koreans nearly monopolized the vegetable supply to the
Sakhalin markets. No large private plots
were allowed under the Soviet system, but Koreans managed to squeeze
exceptional harvests from small plots which could be owned privately. Money
earned in agriculture was largely invested in children's education.
Parental pressure, as well as the sincere sympathies of local teachers and
school administrators, made the authorities revise their policy on college
admission. As a rule in the USSR, foreign citizens were deprived of the right
to enter colleges and universities (unless they arrived through a
government-sponsored program or were formally recognized as political
refugees). Nonetheless, in 1956 an exception was made for Sakhalin Koreans, who
were allowed to study in local colleges regardless of their citizenship.
Nonetheless, employment remained a problem, since nearly all prestigious
white-collar jobs remained closed for "foreigners".
Korean-language schools became an impediment, since to be admitted to a good
college, a student should, first and foremost, speak Russian. Korean was seen
as a burden, especially when the chances of returning to the ancestral lands
were slim. The Korean-language schools could not possibly prepare the younger
generation for academic and career success - and such success became a part of
the parents' dream.
Thus, in 1964 the Korean schools ceased to function. This step is often
presented as a part of some official "drive for Russification", but elder
Koreans agree that it was, above all, Koreans themselves who wanted their
children to switch to the "normal" Russian-language schools. The decision was
approved by the majority, and only the older generation - people who still
thought that repatriation would be possible one day - tended to oppose it.
From the 1970s, the Korean community was increasingly dominated by the younger
generation - people who spoke Russian fluently (increasingly as their main or
sole native language), had a good education, and wanted to have a good life in
the country where their parents were once locked against their will.
Nonetheless, it seems that some hint of dissatisfaction remained in the
community, making it quite different from the Koreans of Central Asia who,
despite the 1937 tragedy - when 172,000 ethnic Koreans were deported from the
Russian far east to Central Asia under Stalin's policy of systematic population
transfer - were remarkably loyal to the Soviet system. Another peculiarity was
a relatively low level of intermarriage. In 1988, merely 10% of the Koreans
were married to a person of different ethnic background.
The policy of perestroika (restructuring), initiated by USSR president
Mikhail Gorbachev in 1985, was a mixed blessing for the island, though the
Korean community generally benefited much from the changes. The old island
economy heavily relied on government subsidies and collapsed almost overnight
once these subsidies dried up in the early 1990s.
The factories came to a standstill, with locally produced paper, for example,
becoming so expensive that it was cheaper to ship paper from Finland. The
population began to drift away from the island. Those who remained had to rely
on fishing (largely illegal but this was seldom prosecuted) just to have
something to eat. Crime became widespread, and Koreans, being on the average
more affluent than members of other ethnic groups, suffered most. Things
changed for the better in the late 1990s, when rising oil prices and
discoveries of new oil and gas deposits in the seas near the island led to a
minor oil boom.
Overall, Koreans benefited from the changes. The government did not matter that
much in the new system, and generally speaking, they ceased to be seen as
suspicious troublemakers. New career paths, especially in business, opened and
were enthusiastically taken. Relations with South Korea boomed, and many
Sakhalin Koreans now work in Korean companies (even though these Korean
companies are far less active then their Japanese competitors).
The same cultural association that had seen activities restricted or forbidden
in the Soviet era, has mushroomed. Daily flights now connect the island with
Seoul, and visits to the country of ancestors, long an unattainable dream, have
become commonplace - it's cheaper to go to Seoul than to Moscow, which is over
10,000 kilometers away.
Perhaps, the single-most important change came in the late 1990s, when the
dream of the oldest generation came true. Japan and Korea jointly funded the
creation of a special apartment complex for elderly Koreans who wished to
return to their homeland. These elderly are entitled to normal South Korean
social benefits and an old-age pension, which is very moderate by South Korean
standards but quite generous by the standards of the Russian countryside.
Those who cannot take care of themselves any more can be placed in a special
nursing home. One has to be born before 1945 to be eligible for this program,
and now it seems as if a majority of those eligible have applied or are going
to apply, so numbers of the returnees might reach some 3,000.
Meanwhile, the next generation of Sakhalin Koreans is staying on the island,
though some have moved to other Russian cities. The presence of Koreans in the
local business elite, among educated professionals and administrators (as well
as among teachers) is well above their percentage of the total population. As a
local teacher told me, "Koreans are our local Jews. Very smart. And unlike
Jews, they also used to do a lot of farming." Not any more: younger Koreans do
not farm, so the skilled farming on the island is increasingly taken over by
recent migrants from China.
However, the enthusiasm for Korean culture proved short-lived and it had died
out by the late 1990s. At a meeting where the problems of the community were
discussed, one of the participants said, "It is clear that young people do not
want to learn Korean. I see it in my family, and in my friends' families: if
the youngsters want to learn a foreign language, they choose English or
Japanese, but never Korean." Nobody objected, and this is a self-evident truth
now.
This year, the Korean department at the Sakhalin State University could not
even recruit enough students to fill the quota of the state-paid (essentially
free) admission, and a private college on the island which used to have a
Korean section did not admit anyone. Sakhalin Koreans have not avoided the fate
of many successful ethnic minorities - the price to be paid for success is
assimilation. Nonetheless, we can be sure that they will remain a distinct
community for another generation or two. And, they have already played a
remarkable role in the history of the region.
Andrei Lankov is an associate professor at Kookmin University in Seoul,
and adjunct research fellow at the Research School of Pacifica and Asian
Studies, Australian National University. He graduated from Leningrad State
University with a PhD in Far Eastern history and China, with emphasis on Korea.
He has published books and articles on Korea and North Asia.
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