Narrating Victimhood Nationalism

Deciding to study in Kraków in January 2018—about 8,600 kilometers away from Seoul—was, surprisingly, not a difficult decision. After discovering unexpected similarities between the histories of two nations that seemed too far apart to share any historical connection—and more importantly, between the emotions their people hold toward those histories—Poland no longer felt like a distant country to me, especially as someone whose identity has long been shaped by a sense of historical victimhood.

Yet, despite how it felt, Poland was undeniably far from Korea. For anyone with an academic interest in Poland, it was difficult to find sufficient information back home. My growing curiosity and desire to see and understand more turned studying in Poland from a choice into something that felt almost like an obligation—something I simply had to do.

After arriving in Poland and engaging directly with people, I became increasingly convinced about the focus of my research: victimhood nationalism. I noticed remarkable parallels in the ways Poles and Koreans unconsciously perceive their histories. Both nations have grown up on narratives of suffering written into their history textbooks—Poland with the three partitions lasting 123 years, the Second World War, and an unwanted experience of communism; and Korea with thirty-five years of Japanese colonial rule and the enforced division that followed the Korean War.

Shared suffering, I came to realize, can often inspire a deeper sense of solidarity than shared victories. Those who carry the memory of defeat can find a stronger sense of connection with one another than those who share a history of triumph. This book began as a project born from that realization—from the perspective of a Korean who, upon encountering a similar historical consciousness in Poland, sought to explore the points of connection between these two geographically distant nations.

In fact, both Koreans and Poles often express—quite naturally in their daily lives—the trauma and identity shaped by a long history of victimhood. Because this sense of historical victimhood is so deeply rooted and so widely reflected across society, narrowing the focus of my research was not easy. This victim identity surfaces almost everywhere: in classrooms and museums, in films, dramas, and newspaper articles, in family conversations, and even in Facebook comments.

Among these various social and cultural spaces, what especially caught my attention were museums. State-funded museums that exhibit modern and contemporary history, in particular, seemed to function almost like vast incubators of victimhood nationalism. Their exhibitions reach both domestic and international audiences alike, persuading visitors through carefully curated historical narratives designed by curators.

Between 2019 and 2021, I visited as many museums as time allowed, collecting materials for my research. In Korea, I visited the National Museum of Korea, the National Museum of Korean Contemporary History, Seodaemun Prison History Hall, the War Memorial of Korea, the Independence Hall of Korea, and the National Memorial Museum of Forced Mobilization Under Japanese Occupation. I paid close attention to how each of these institutions chose to represent the Japanese colonial period and the messages they sought to convey through their exhibits.

In Poland, I conducted fieldwork at the Oskar Schindler’s Enamel Factory, Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum, Warsaw Rising Museum, Museum of Warsaw, Museum of the Second World War, and Polin Museum of the History of Polish Jews, among others, gaining a broader understanding of how Polish museums interpret and present their national history.

For in-depth analysis, I eventually selected four institutions: in Poland, the Warsaw Rising Museum and the Museum of the Second World War; and in Korea, the Independence Hall of Korea and the National Memorial Museum of Forced Mobilization Under Japanese Occupation. These museums became the main case studies through which I explored how both nations remember, interpret, and narrate their past traumas.