When
I awoke yesterday to the news that the Japanese and South Korean governments
had finally reached a consensus on the sexual slavery of Korean women during
the Second World War, I felt a sense of relief. This relief, however, was
replaced with disgust when I started reading the articles about this historic moment.
The articles all framed this issue as if Japan and South Korea had signed a
trade deal, focusing on the two countries’ relationships with the U.S., the one billion yen fund being set up
for the remaining so-called comfort women
(of whom only 46 are still
alive),
and referring to it as a “deal.”
In
other words, these women were commodified by their colonial oppressors then and
are once again being discussed as commodities in overtly capitalist terms.
Consequently, their identity and suffering continue to be erased. Indeed, the
issue has been referred to as though it is something to lay to rest, so political/economic
partnerships can forge ahead. As Japanese Foreign Minister Fumio
Kishida said, “I expect that the two
countries will accept the outcome of the final negotiations meaningfully… I
hope that the bilateral relations would start anew through implementing the
agreement conscientiously.”
Deal, negotiations, agreement… These
are not the terms one tends to use to discuss human beings’ lives. They scream CAPITALISM and NEOLIBERALISM. After all, within these ideologies, none of our
lives actually matter, but some lives matter even less (Black lives, the lives
of the members of lower classes and castes, the lives of women of colour, etc.).
As
survivor Lee
Yong-soo stated, “The agreement does not
reflect the views of former comfort women… I will ignore it completely.” If
this was really about the 46 women who are still living with these horrific
physical and emotional scars, and the hundreds
of thousands who have already died, Lee’s statement would have some impact.
The
practice of discussing women’s oppression while simultaneously silencing their
voices is quite common. Women’s importance in history and contemporary
societies is at best given lip service and at worst overlooked entirely. Rafia
Zakaria puts this succinctly in reference to the invasion of Afghanistan in
2001: “The
Afghan woman’s blue burka became the symbol of sexual repression, the basis for the
most righteous feminist indignation and of bombings and night raids. That the same women may not want their
country bombed and occupied, or might wish to fight their own battles, were the
sort of ifs and buts that were not entertained” (emphasis mine). Indeed, Zakaria’s
piece, “Sex and the Muslim Feminist,” is an important read for those interested
in considering how sex, sexuality, and women’s bodies are co-opted by
capitalism.
Central
to the discussion of the girls and women who were kidnapped, imprisoned, and
raped endlessly—let us drop the euphemisms and call this what it was—is also
the theme of honour
and dignity. But whose honour is actually at issue here? Surely, if it was
that of the girls and women who suffered, this atrocity would have been
resolved decades ago or not happened in the first place. But women’s honour is always
tied to that of the society; this is why rape is used as one of the weapons of
war. It is an important detail that the statue in front of
the Japanese Embassy in Seoul representing the victims is supposed to be
removed.
Once
that is gone and the remaining survivors have died, the capitalist system can
thrive unfettered by tedious reminders of old quarrels, and a new generation can
fulfill its destiny of becoming obedient consumers and workers.
Consensus
about subjugation aside, the message remains the same: Women—especially women
belonging to marginalized groups—you don’t matter.
