Separated family reunions, a symbol of inter-Korean exchange,

recently started again after a hiatus of three years and four months. There

were tearful embraces as families met for the first time in 60 years, emotions visible in the joy they

showed at meeting face-to-face. However, we hear that after 60 years of

separation, these families did not really know each other’s faces, and the feeling of being

“family” did not come across well. Meeting so suddenly after assuming that they

would never meet again, it was only natural that the reunions would explode with emotions more compelling than any TV drama; but can we call

these reunions true, genuine meetings between families of North and South?

When I lived in North Korea, I was also part of a separated family. Of course I had never seen the faces of my South Korean grandparents,

and had no idea of the aunts and uncles I had living there. Because of them, my ancestral

“chulsin-songbun” was deemed poor, and, upon the orders of an agent from the

State Security Department, I was even once forcibly exiled to the rural

village of Gwangdong in Samsu County. I wanted to know about my family,

even if only to find the cause of the

pain I found myself in. I wanted to find them so as to establish what was hindering me

at every turn.

After a while, I heard news that my family was in America.

But there was no way we could hold a family reunion, because the

North Korean regime refused to allow my grandmother in America from visiting North Korea,

lest the human rights situation in the North become known there. And though we

could send a letter once or twice a year, we could not mention anything about how we were actually living. North Korea strictly censored

and controlled the mail, and if we had said something out of turn we would have risked severe punishment.

In the end, that is why I chose to defect. The truth is that, while my

father did eventually meet my mother and his siblings after 47 years, and they at first

clung to each other in a veritable sea of tears, it is not enough.

In light of my experience, I believe we must do more than

simply giving separated families a last chance to see one another before they

pass away. Even if reunions were diligently pursued from this day forth, we

would only be able to have these elderly people see their families once before

forcing them to separate again. It is simply too cruel.

People want to send letters, to

exchange greetings and photos; this is just human

nature. Having one meeting and that being the end of it is a betrayal of the ethics

of family relations. This is why the politicians of North and South, who trade human emotions in such a heartless manner, are seen as barbarians. Why are we

family? Is it not because we should share all the happy and sad times? Is it not

because we worry and care about whether one another is alive or dead, uncomfortable or

in pain, and because we do so without recourse to coercion or pressure?

Though these families are meeting for the first time in 60

years, the truth is that they aren’t even allowed to spend a night together even though it is a two-night, three-day event. Instead, they are reunited in

groups and separately, as if on show in a zoo. Is this really for the Korean people?

Is it really for families? Over and above the political “show” of separated

family reunions, the job of the politicians of our era is to let separated

families exchange letters and photos, and to confirm one other’s wellbeing, too.