Korean Christians and the Taliban
A clash of faiths
Aug 2nd 2007
From The Economist print edition
Held hostage in God's name
“GOD'S work has to be carried out, at any cost, even death.” Such was the Taliban's grim justification behind the murder this week of a second of the 23 Christian-Korean aid workers kidnapped last month en route from Kabul to Kandahar. The weeks since their abduction have brought unmet demands, a papal plea, a botched hostage release and an emotional appeal from the hostages' relations to the American embassy in Seoul. On August 1st the latest deadline set for the Afghan government passed, without the release demanded by the hostage-takers of their jailed comrades. There were rumours of prisoner exchanges, ransoms and renewed rescue operations.
Set our people freeThe Koreans, too, thought they were doing God's work. The South Korean government vehemently denies that Pastor Bae Hyung-kyu, whose bullet-ridden body was found on July 25th, and his flock were engaged in any form of evangelical or missionary work. But the Taliban say they were. Most Afghans have long followed a conservative interpretation of Islam. Polished toenails might now peek out from burqas on Kabul streets, but the Afghan public continues to challenge any slight against Islam. Even the appearance of proselytising Christianity is enough to foment widespread rancour.
Mr Bae and his mostly-female missionary group are affiliated with a Presbyterian congregation found in the affluent suburbs of Seoul. Initially embraced in the early 20th century as a means of asserting Korean identity against Shinto Japan and Buddhist China, Christianity is now a symbol of status, and, along with capitalism and democracy, part of an ideological trinity enthusiastically adopted from the West. By 1995 Christianity had surpassed Buddhism as South Korea's most popular religion. Roh Moo-hyun, the current president, and his two immediate predecessors are all Christians.
In recent years Korea's religious zeal has crossed its borders, sending a flood of salvation to destinations beyond. With roughly 16,000 Christian missionaries abroad, Korea is second only to America when it comes to spreading the gospel. Moreover, inter-church competition for alms goads pastors into one-upmanship, sending their congregations on ever-riskier missions to reap the resulting publicity.
The Korean press has been seized by the crisis in Afghanistan. Broadband is brimming with videos of frightened hostages and unsympathetic citizens admonishing the aid workers for not heeding the government's travel warning. This is not South Korea's first experience with good intentions going disastrously awry. Seven Korean missionaries have been kidnapped in Iraq since 2003.
As South Korea contends with the consequences of its religious fervour, the Taliban will have to question the methods of execution and suicide-bombing they are borrowing from al-Qaeda in Iraq. The Taliban rose to power in 1996 out of the ashes of two consecutive wars—first against the Russians, then amongst foreign-backed warlords. In the process, they brought with them a more ascetic, medieval version of Islam. They gained credit for restoring some degree of order to a society rife with crime and despair following nearly two decades of conflict. But the Taliban have ever since been feared for their bloodthirstiness. An insurgent force depends on the goodwill of those in whose name it fights, and the Taliban's religious credentials are beginning to wear thin. Taliban sympathisers, however many remain, will soon conclude for themselves if God's work is indeed worth death.
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