【Updated】Korean worker who spent his life in spontaneous struggle: Quan Tai Yi

[沼泽士兵]

Recently, I read “A Spark of Fire: A Biography of Jeon Tae-il” written by the Korean bourgeois democratic faction during the Chun Doo-hwan era, which gave me some understanding of Jeon Tae-il’s life. This book was immediately banned and suppressed by Chun Doo-hwan’s fascist government at the time. The book provides rich material for understanding Jeon Tae-il’s life, but the author, from a bourgeois standpoint, views Jeon Tae-il as a representative of bourgeois humanitarianism, only abstractly discussing oppressors and the oppressed, and regards Jeon Tae-il’s thoughts as “human rights” ideas for “all humanity.” It is fundamentally impossible to conduct a scientific analysis and evaluation of Jeon Tae-il, a Korean worker engaged in spontaneous struggle. Moreover, after reading articles commemorating Jeon Tae-il on Wuyou Zhixiang (a Chinese Marxist website), I felt the level was low and that there is currently a lack of articles attempting to analyze Jeon Tae-il’s spontaneous struggle activities using Marxism. Therefore, I plan to spend some time here, on the basis of understanding Korean history and combining it with the history of class struggle in Korea, to introduce Jeon Tae-il’s life, and at the same time, review the development of his subsequent spontaneous struggle and thoughts. Because this writing will take a relatively long time, I have decided to spend some time completing it more thoroughly.

[沼泽士兵]

Portrait of Jeon Tae-il
Jeon Tae-il was born on August 26, 1948, in Daegu, a city known for its revolutionary tradition. In 1946, to support the Busan workers’ “9.25” general strike, ten thousand people gathered at the train station for a rally. Afterwards, the police force suppressed the crowd, even shooting unarmed citizens, causing dozens of deaths. Angry citizens of Daegu destroyed police stations, seized weapons to arm themselves, and took control of all police substations in the city, putting the entire city of Daegu in the hands of the people. This sparked the grand “October Struggle” in South Korea, led mainly by farmers.
Jeon Tae-il’s parents were participants in these mass movements. Moreover, his father Jeon Sam-song was a leader of a grassroots union and led strikes during the chaotic period after Korea’s liberation from Japan, but those strikes were suppressed by the police. His mother, Lee So-sun, was an intelligent and strong-willed woman. Her biological father had bravely resisted Japanese colonial rule but was later arrested by Japanese police and executed in the mountains near So-sun’s village. She was then taken to Japan for forced labor and returned home after liberation to marry Jeon Sam-song. She carried a willow basket and went door to door selling goods to support the family. “Lee So-sun hated any form of discrimination. Whenever the police came to evict tenants from their temporary homes or to drive away street vendors, So-sun stood at the forefront of the struggle against the police. She was even detained for three days at a police station because of this.”
In the same August when Jeon Tae-il was born, after the comprador forces, large landlords, and capitalists in South Korea, together with the U.S. military government, suppressed the anti-secession and anti-oppression movements of the South Korean masses, the U.S. puppet regime, the Republic of Korea, was declared established in Seoul, marking the beginning of the dark rule of the Lee Seung-man government.
In the 1950s, Jeon Tae-il’s family moved to crowded Seoul. After saving enough money, his parents bought a shack and a sewing machine. Jeon Sam-song worked diligently as a tailor. Using their savings, they also ran a small shop. However, misfortune soon befell the family. In 1960, Jeon Sam-song received a contract to produce uniforms for thousands of students. He completed the order, but after the famous “April 19 Student Uprising,” the agent absconded with the money. Jeon Sam-song was left heavily in debt and had to transfer ownership of the shop and sewing machine. He became penniless and increasingly turned to alcohol to destroy himself. The family left Seoul and drifted among shacks and tents around Daegu, living a precarious life. The family consisted of six members: four children—Jeon Tae-il, his younger brother Tae-san, sister Soon-ok, and youngest sister So-ok (another son died at age three). To help support the family, Jeon Tae-il had to drop out of school in the fourth grade. At just 12 years old, he began selling newspapers and, with his brother, sold tripods and various stationery.
Jeon Tae-il’s family life remained unstable afterward, and he ran away from home three times.
Around the 1961 military coup, the day before he had to hand over his debts, Jeon Tae-il ran away from home for the first time. He realized that rather than watching his mother be harassed by angry wholesalers the next day, it was better for him to leave.
During that year, he traveled from Seoul to Busan, making a living by shining shoes. After a fight with other children, he lost his shoeshine box. Exhausted and having not eaten for three days, he stood on a breakwater gazing at the sea. A fist-sized cabbage floated on the water, capturing all his attention. Unable to resist, he jumped into the water to swim toward the cabbage but soon fell into darkness. Fortunately, a fisherman rescued him. When he woke up on the beach, the surrounding laborers had left some bills and coins, a rotten cabbage stalk, and a row of clam shells beside him.
Tae-il decided to return to Seoul. He climbed over the station fence to evade the ticket and boarded a train.

As I entered the train compartment, I saw two ticket inspectors holding tickets. Without thinking, I crawled under a seat. My heart was pounding; I just hoped they would pass quickly. An elderly woman sitting on a chair covered me with her skirt. I was moved by her humane act. Only from my mother had I ever felt such emotion. Despite suppressing my feelings, tears streamed down my cheeks. At that moment, I missed my mother especially and longed for my brothers and sisters. I felt very sad inside. While I was immersed in these feelings, the roar of the train brought me back to the harsh reality.

After returning home, his father touched Tae-il’s forehead with tears in his eyes and did not blame him. Tae-il then lived a relatively stable life, studying at Jongyul Citizen Middle School. Although helping his father with work often made him so tired that he would have nosebleeds in the morning, Tae-il regarded his school days as the happiest time. To him, every lesson was interesting.
His second runaway was for the sake of his dream to study.
In 1963, his father ordered him to leave school and help with work because supporting Tae-il’s high school education had become a heavy burden on the family. His father said, “You are already sixteen but have only completed one year of middle school. Do you think you can succeed through education? Do you think those who become members of parliament or government ministers in society do so because of education? You must have money. As long as you have money, even if you are twenty or thirty, you can study. You fool, throw away your grand ideals.”
Tae-il felt as if he had been thrown into an abyss. For the sake of his dream to study, he disobeyed his father’s order for the first time. This turned the home into a battlefield of beatings and scoldings. Tae-il painfully concluded that running away from home again was the only way to continue studying. He took his brother Tae-san and boarded a train to Seoul, planning to save money to study there. They lived in cardboard boxes, dividing work shining shoes and selling newspapers. But harsh reality soon shattered his illusions. His brother repeatedly begged Tae-il to take him home in the cold and exhaustion. After three days away, the brothers returned to Daegu.
His third runaway was due to his inability to endure family life and his decision to find his mother.
During this time, his father became increasingly violent, drinking constantly and beating the two brothers, taking out his anger on his wife. Jeon Sam-song had squandered the family’s assets. Lee So-sun gathered her children and told them she was leaving home to work as a domestic servant and promised to send money back. At that time in Korea, being a live-in domestic servant carried a social stigma second only to being forced into prostitution.
Tae-il took his youngest sister So-ok to Seoul to find their mother. He sold newspapers desperately every day, but the cold weather soon made his sister ill. Carrying her on his back, he could not sell enough papers. Unable to survive, Tae-il painfully sent his sister to a social welfare institution. Afterward, he worked as a laborer for a year.

[沼泽士兵]

Later, younger brother Taishan also couldn’t bear the family situation and fled to Seoul to beg for hygiene with other children. When the two brothers偶然碰上面 (偶然遇见面) at the market, they embraced tearfully. After that, they carried shoe-shining boxes and walked the streets of Seoul.
They heard about Li Xiaoshan from an old friend of their mother, Sang Yu. When Li Xiaoshan visited her before, she didn’t reveal her whereabouts. This old friend promised to tell her about their situation when they met next time. What had Li Xiaoshan experienced during this period? She worked as a female worker at a restaurant called “Duwen” in Seoul through an intermediary, but she fainted due to severe anemia after only five days of work. Ten days later, she came out of the hospital but couldn’t pay her medical bills. She had actually worked for free at that restaurant for a full six months. She wanted to dispel the doubts of capitalists with her hard work, but this only worsened her health. Not long after, she lost consciousness again, and the capitalists fired her. Before being dismissed, the two children finally saw their mother. The other female workers in the restaurant sympathized with Li Xiaoshan’s plight. They collectively fought against the capitalists, demanding that Li Xiaoshan be paid at least one month’s wages. In the end, Li Xiaoshan received 10,000 Korean won.
The mother and daughters lived a difficult life. After a few months, Ta Yi brought his younger sister Suyu back from the orphanage. At this time, she had become mentally abnormal: “She would get up early, wash her face, comb her hair, and then sit in front of the mirror with a blank stare. When asked why she sat there, she replied: If she didn’t do this, her teacher would punish her.” Ta Yi felt very guilty about Suyu’s condition.
In 1964, Ta Yi entered Seoul’s Peace Market, starting as an apprentice, ending his almost wandering days on the streets. This place would become the main battleground for the remaining six years of Ta Yi’s life.

[沼泽士兵]

Heiwa Market, along with the adjacent Donghwa Market and Unified Shopping Center, formed the largest clothing processing and supply center in South Korea at the time (the latter two were built in 1968). The three markets had a total of more than 800 factories, gathering over 30,000 workers, with Heiwa Market alone concentrating more than 14,000. Typically, factories were located on the second and third floors of buildings, and the finished clothes were sent to the first floor for sale. By 1970, the production capacity in this area could meet more than 70% of South Korea’s clothing demand.

In the 1960s, South Korea was in the so-called “takeoff period” under Park Chung-hee’s economic policies. From 1960 to 1971, the country’s average annual economic growth rate reached 9.9%. The bourgeoisie hailed Seoul’s rapid industrialization and “technological progress” as the “Miracle on the Han River.” However, beneath this miracle, what kind of life did the working class lead?

In Heiwa Market, 80% to 90% of the workers were women, who held most of the positions as skilled and unskilled workers in the factories. They usually worked from 8 a.m. to 11 p.m., working 11 hours a day. During peak seasons, capitalists forced them to work overtime, sometimes working through three consecutive nights. At such times, capitalists compelled the girls to register for and take anti-sleeping pills to keep their eyes bloodshot and continue working. They were only allowed two days off per month, and only when the capitalists permitted it.

Workers’ wages were also stratified. An unskilled worker earned between 1,800 and 3,000 won per month (4.5–7.5 USD); a skilled worker earned between 7,500 and 25,000 won (17.5–62.5 USD); an assistant skilled worker earned between 3,000 and 15,000 won (7.5–37.5 USD); while a cutter earned between 15,000 and 30,000 won (37.5–75 USD). Capitalists implemented piece-rate wages to force workers to produce more under already heavy labor. Cutters were skilled workers, mostly men aged 20 to 30. Capitalists respected them and sought their support because cutters’ skills had a decisive impact on production. They had more free time and could leave work two to three hours earlier than skilled workers. Cutters held a privileged position in the factory; they served the capitalists by managing workers and even handled workers’ wage settlements. Jeon Tae-il once wrote in his diary: “We cannot disobey the cutters; they have absolute authority over us. If we show dissatisfaction with working overtime at night, the next day they assign us very little work. Economically, we cannot survive doing so little work. Therefore, in reality, we workers are powerless.”

Each factory had an average of 10 sewing machines, but in 30 to 40 square meters, more than 30 workers could be squeezed in. This was because capitalists maximized space by building a “false ceiling” within the three-meter-high floor, dividing it into two levels; the upper level was called the “attic.” Girls could not stand upright in such a low space and had to squat in front of sewing machines or cut fabric while working. Many female workers had to climb up and down ladders more than 30 times a day to complete various tasks. This cramped space was filled with workers, equipment, and dust; working at sewing machines for two to three hours would cover them in dust. However, the factories severely lacked ventilation equipment, causing many girls to develop pneumonia early. Even worse was the poor lighting environment: the factory walls were sealed off with no natural light, and people could only work long hours under direct electric bulbs, leading many to suffer severe eye diseases. In such an environment, young female workers’ youth was destroyed prematurely. Once, Jeon Tae-il told his mother a story about an unskilled worker (at that time, Tae-il had become a cutter): She sat aside, doing nothing; when she realized Tae-il was watching her, tears streamed down her face. “Mr. Cutter (a standard respectful title), I think I am going blind. After taking anti-insomnia pills, I had to work three consecutive nights. My vision is blurred; I cannot see anything; my arms are numb; I want to raise my arms but find I cannot.”

According to Jeon Tae-il’s 1970 survey:

100% of cutters suffered from digestive diseases, gastrointestinal disorders, neuralgia, tuberculosis, or other pneumonia-like diseases.
90% of skilled workers suffered from neuralgia, indigestion, gastroenteritis, and second-degree tuberculosis.
Among workers who had worked in Heiwa Market for five years or more, all had at least one disease, mostly neuralgia, digestive problems, gastrointestinal disorders, or rheumatism.

Additionally, workers faced many other unreasonable conditions, such as severely insufficient and non-gender-segregated toilets. Only three showers were available for 2,000 workers. Among 400 factories, only three water taps with limited supply existed, making it impossible for workers to have adequate drinking water.

This was the environment where Jeon Tae-il worked. During this period, he had to work desperately to support a family of six. At the same time, he never forgot his ideal of attending university. During the 30 minutes to one hour lunch break, while other workers relaxed and chatted on the rooftop, Jeon Tae-il would read and study. He once wrote in his diary: “If I spend two hours studying after work, I can pass the university entrance exam.” But this was just a dream; he had only received a slightly higher education than elementary school and now had to endure 15 hours of work daily. Jeon Tae-il once spent 150 won to buy a set of textbooks at a bookstore, but to afford this, he had to sell his gas stove and pants due to poverty.

The tragic situation of young female workers around him saddened Jeon Tae-il deeply. He once told his mother, “Whenever I see those girls younger than So-yuk working from 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. in a smoke-filled environment without eating anything, I ask myself: is this the life a person should live? At the same time, I both admire and sympathize with them.” Jeon Tae-il wanted to do his utmost to help them and alleviate their suffering. He could not bear to use the bus fare his mother gave him; instead, he used that money to buy bread and snacks for the unskilled workers who had nothing to eat at noon. For this, he had to walk two to three hours every night, returning home around one or two in the morning. Near curfew, he had to run fast; if caught, he would have to spend the night at the police station. Soon, the police became familiar with him and tacitly allowed him to pass. Jeon Tae-il maintained this lifestyle for three to four years until shortly before his death.

Facing inequality in the factories and the plight of female workers, Jeon Tae-il decided to become a cutter. He said: I decided to become a cutter so that I could stand with the workers and negotiate fairly with the factory owners. Since cutters held a higher status and often acted unjustly, he hoped to become a cutter to make changes and help female workers. However, as with abstract terms like “fair negotiation,” Jeon Tae-il did not yet understand the essence of oppression; he did not realize that it was the exploitation and oppression by capitalists that caused his painful life. He still held submissive thoughts. In February 1967, he wrote in his diary: “Starting tomorrow, I will work hard to repay everything my boss has done and grow into a competent cutter.”

But it was this obedience and diligence that made capitalists exploit Jeon Tae-il to the maximum after he became a cutter. His personal life did not improve much; sometimes he was penniless and needed help. This environment made him question his previous endurance; he began calling his boss a “hypocrite” and repeatedly asked “Why? Why?” in his diary. The plight of his fellow workers deeply stimulated him. At this time, Jeon Tae-il no longer thought about things like going to university; with a simple class consciousness, he only thought about how to help his fellow workers the most.

Several incidents seriously affected him:

One day, a young female skilled worker suddenly coughed up blood while working at her sewing machine. Tae-il quickly collected some money and took her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with stage three tuberculosis, a common occupational disease in Heiwa Market. The capitalist soon fired her, and the young woman slowly died without medical care. This incident greatly impacted Jeon Tae-il, and he began thinking about how to change everything.

Another incident happened to himself. After becoming a cutter, Tae-il always let young unskilled workers go home early and personally completed their work. The capitalist warned him, “Cutters should do cutters’ work. Why interfere with unskilled workers’ tasks? What you are doing sets a bad precedent for them.” The capitalist already hated Jeon Tae-il because he always stood with the workers, took sick workers to the hospital, and expressed dissatisfaction when the capitalists demanded overtime. The next night, the capitalist discovered he was again doing the female workers’ work alone and fired him. The capitalist would not allow Tae-il to help other workers even a little, which hurt him. He had thought this was something a cutter could do, so his previous idea of helping workers by himself was shattered.

Meanwhile, Jeon Tae-il became increasingly interested in talking with his father every night, asking about past workers’ movements. In these conversations, he learned about the existence of the “Labor Standards Act.” The “Labor Standards Act (근로기준법)” was enacted by the Syngman Rhee government in 1953. Although there is no more precise material, considering the Korean War and the intense domestic workers’ anti-war political strikes before that, this law was enacted partly to confront the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea and claim fairness, and partly to try to quell popular resistance through economic reforms. By Park Chung-hee’s era, this law had become a dead letter.

The “Labor Standards Act” contained many good promises, such as “prohibiting women and workers under 18 from working night shifts,” “employers must take necessary measures to prevent occupational hazards or health hazards, protecting workers’ health, environment, and life,” and employers who violate these can be criminally punished. These words shocked Jeon Tae-il; he felt his past life was foolish, that such good laws and provisions existed in the world. He felt he had found hope and believed that relying on the “Labor Standards Act” could change the lives of his fellow workers. He then began to put it into practice…

[沼泽士兵]

Quan San-song died in June 1969 due to hypertension. In his later years, he began to feel remorse for his past acts of violence against his wife and children. Li Xiaoshan once discovered that the monthly money Quan Taiyi gave him for alcohol was tightly folded and stuffed into a pillowcase. He tearfully said he felt it was a sin to use the money Taiyi gave him to buy alcohol.
Before this, the ever-growing Quan Taiyi increasingly and eagerly asked this former union organizer about the turbulent experiences of the past labor movements. Quan San-song, who had already forgotten and hidden his passion for struggle, felt it was hopeless for his child to follow his “old path.” At first, he constantly avoided these inquiries and even drove him out, but later he was willing to tell Quan Taiyi about the events, experiences, and lessons of the labor movements in the 1940s. He also once told his wife, “Please do not stop what he is doing.”
At the same time, Quan Taiyi, “to improve the working conditions at Peace Market,” began to gather a group of cutters to meet in a café to discuss forming an organization. At the end of June of the same year, the “Foolish Society” was established. Taiyi believed: in the past, we worked in such a cruel and dark environment but never thought of resisting the employers; we were simply fools. This is the origin of the name “Foolish.” Meanwhile, when Taiyi initially proposed the goal of improving workers’ labor conditions, some people also regarded it as “foolish,” but Taiyi calmly accepted being such a “fool.” The fools he referred to were meant to be distinguished from the so-called “elites” and bourgeoisie in capitalist society who are cunning and scheming. If doing the hard and seemingly hopeless task of changing the status quo makes one a “fool,” Taiyi was willing to be that “fool.” Also, because of the vacancy left after Quan San-song’s death, Quan Taiyi moved the Foolish Society’s meetings to his home.
The Foolish Society reflected some characteristics of spontaneous resistance in workers’ thinking. Besides proposing legal struggles within the scope of the “Labor Standards Act,” Quan Taiyi also fantasized about establishing a “model factory” to show the world that “a factory can still make money while treating workers well,” hoping other enterprises would follow suit. This idea was highly utopian and completely unrealistic. Therefore, in the Foolish Society, it was only Taiyi’s own idea and never had the possibility of implementation. At that time, the Foolish Society mainly studied and researched the legal provisions of the “Labor Standards Act.” Quan Taiyi distributed his business cards to many factories and later visited workers at workplaces to give speeches about achieving “better labor conditions” through the law. The Foolish Society also produced 300 questionnaires intended to be distributed among workers at Peace Market, but due to lack of experience, many questionnaires were discovered and torn up by employers shortly after distribution. Ultimately, only 30 of the 100 distributed questionnaires were collected, and another 200 questionnaires could not be distributed.
Meanwhile, Quan Taiyi attracted the attention of Peace Market capitalists due to his labor movement activities. He was fired and subsequently targeted within Peace Market, with no capitalist willing to employ him. He could only work hard outside to earn money and borrow from relatives and friends to maintain the expenses of the Foolish Society.
However, what pushed Quan Taiyi to despair was another matter. After collecting and organizing the questionnaires, he analyzed and wrote a report exposing the conditions of workers at Peace Market and went to the city hall full of hope to meet the labor inspector. Trusting the “Labor Standards Act,” he believed the inspector would praise his efforts and take various measures. However, when Quan Taiyi entered the office to explain the purpose of his visit, the inspector angrily interrupted, saying, “I don’t have time to hear your whole story; just tell me the main problem.” Then, he showed no patience to listen to Taiyi’s description of the dark working environment at Peace Market, put on a sour face, told him to leave the report on the desk, and leave.
This left Quan Taiyi dumbfounded. He could not understand the inspector’s complete lack of empathy for the workers’ dark circumstances. Wasn’t the labor inspector obligated under the “Labor Standards Act” to stop those illegal behaviors? Afterwards, he petitioned the Ministry of Labor, but officials only promised to investigate Peace Market and then dismissed him without any measures. Both the inspector and the Ministry of Labor were indifferent to Quan Taiyi’s report and petitions. These experiences shook Quan Taiyi’s trust in the government and law for the first time. If even the government is untrustworthy and colludes with capitalists, what can be done? Subsequently, due to financial pressure and organizational looseness, the activities of the Foolish Society almost came to a halt. Sometimes only Quan Taiyi himself would attend a meeting. All this plunged Taiyi into depression. Under economic pressure, he could not lie to his mother every day that he “went to work” while relying on friends’ help to maintain the Foolish Society’s activities or struggling to find odd jobs. The Foolish Society eventually became nominal only. By 1970, he found a job at a construction site far from Peace Market while bitterly reflecting and expressing his ideas in diaries and novels.

[inter1359]

@Swamp Soldier

Worse still is the extremely poor lighting environment here, with the factory’s four walls sealed off and no natural view. People can only work long hours under direct exposure to electric bulbs, and many have developed severe eye diseases. In such an environment, the youth of young female workers is destroyed early. Once, Quan Tai Yi told his mother a story about an apprentice (at this time Tai Yi had become a cutter): She sat aside, doing nothing; finally, when she realized Tai Yi was observing her, tears streamed down her face. “Mr. Cutter (a standardized respectful term), I think I am going blind. After taking sleeping pills, I had to work three nights in a row, my vision blurred, I couldn’t see anything, my arms numb; I wanted to raise my arms, but found I couldn’t.”

Yesterday I saw capitalists forcing people to work nonstop with drugs, which reminded me that some games romanticize this kind of thing. Now I know that in reality, many people go blind because of it. I was planning to urge for more updates, but I saw that it has already been updated today, and it also includes an English feature, though I don’t understand why the preface and latest news are in English.

[沼泽士兵]

Life is a play. So, let us do our best not to perform in a bad play, but to play a role that does not violate our conscience, that is, to fight for the people.
(Quoted from Quantae Yi’s diary and letters)

When Quantae Yi was organizing away from the workers’ movement, he worked alone, often digging at construction sites to support his family. He expressed his thoughts in diaries, novels, and letters, which reveal his ideological development.
On one hand, he harbored hatred and questioning of capitalist society, with boundless sympathy for the working people. This stemmed not only from his personal suffering and past experiences in peaceful markets but also from witnessing social injustice and suffering.
Once, on a bus to work, a woman vendor with a willow basket and a ticket seller argued. He had interacted with such people for twenty years; witnessing the struggle of the vendor brought him to tears, saying, “This honest, simple, and fragile woman, what is her fault?” He wrote in his diary, “I hate this era that turns people into commodities; in such an era, a person’s personality and basic aspirations become objects of ridicule; in such an era, the tree of hope is cut down. I hate such people, who degrade themselves into commodities to survive.”
In a draft of a novel, Quantae Yi posed this question:

Religion claims that all people are equal.
The law also makes the same claim.
Why are the purest and most innocent young people exploited as fertilizer by these decayed rich people? Is this the reality of society? Or is this the theorem between the poor and the rich?

He questioned the labor inspector in his diary:

Who do you think is responsible for the prosperity of our country’s economy? This prosperity makes your life so comfortable.
Remember, many sacrifices unseen have been made for this economic prosperity.
For this prosperity, workers of your age work fifteen hours a day under the worst conditions.

On the other hand, under capitalist oppression and a confusing way out, Quantae Yi’s mind was filled with two thoughts: utopia and death.
The idea of founding a model company always occupied a place in his mind; he wrote down the specific time to establish the company in his diary, even drafting a 30-page business plan. Quantae Yi knew he couldn’t realize this dream alone, so like Fourier a century ago, he fantasized about a “philanthropist” donating 30 million won to start a business. He harbored illusions about the existence of “humanity” within the bourgeoisie and even wrote a petition letter to Park Chung-hee (not sent). He carefully designed this model enterprise, not without reason; this plan was essentially a self-comforting fantasy after various failed attempts to improve workers’ conditions.
During this period, he poured the most energy into this fantasy. He also knew that no philanthropist would come to him voluntarily; he even hoped to move social opinion by donating his cornea to a blind person published in a newspaper, hoping that a philanthropist would then pay attention to him.
The idea of donating his eyes as a form of self-sacrifice hinted at another thought in Quantae Yi: considering death as a way to change the current situation in despair. This idea had already appeared when he founded the Foolish Society; he silently believed that someone had to make sacrifices. Various despairing thoughts and discussions of suicide were expressed in his writings, including letters, diaries, and some novel outlines where the protagonist commits suicide, such as:

“A law student commits suicide to protest the contradictions within the law, hoping these contradictions can be resolved.” — This imagination of “exposing the hypocrisy of law through death” also foreshadowed his later actions of exposing state deception and hypocrisy through his life.
After April 1970, Quantae Yi continued to earn his living at construction sites and sent money home. Late at night after work, he would continue reading the Labor Standards Act. His life on the construction site was a period of deep reflection and a time of wavering due to past setbacks. Eventually, he left the site one day in August and went to the familiar Peace Market. In his diary, he wrote deeply moving words, ready to sacrifice his remaining three months of life to the workers’ movement:

I hesitated and struggled over this matter for a long time, but at this moment, I made up my mind. I must return to my poor brothers and sisters, to my spiritual paradise, to the young souls in Peace Market, who are my entire life. After long contemplation, I made this vow: I must protect these fragile lives.
I will sacrifice myself, I will die for you.

[沼泽士兵]

After Jeon Tae-il returned to the Peace Market, he quickly found a job. After several months, the capitalists had somewhat forgotten his label as a labor movement agitator. However, Jeon Tae-il came here precisely to “agitate.” Soon, some core members of the former Foolish Society regrouped. After recruiting some newcomers, Jeon Tae-il established the “Samdong Fellowship” organization and served as its chairman in the elections.

The organization and program of the Samdong Fellowship represented a significant improvement over the previous Foolish Society. “Samdong” refers to the three buildings in Seoul’s central Dongdaemun area: Peace Market, Donghwa Market, and Unification Market. The fellowship fought for the workers within these three markets. Although its activities were mainly focused on the Peace Market, its aspirations aimed to improve labor conditions for a larger scale of workers. Each founder of the fellowship had to recruit other “auxiliary members,” and after evaluation and communication, reliable individuals were admitted as official members.

Besides the previous Foolish Society’s strategy of individual petitions and “pleading” to employers, the fellowship also proposed strategies to expose the inhumane treatment in Peace Market to the public, and mentioned demonstrations and strikes. Items three and four of their program were as follows:

(3) If our demands for improving labor conditions fail, then we should initiate demonstrations, sit-in strikes, and other actions.
(4) We will reorganize the “Samdong Fellowship” into a labor union organization and simultaneously request employers and the Ministry of Labor to support this organization.

From this, it can be seen that the Samdong Fellowship’s program had already proposed the principles of a unionist labor union, which was a significant progress compared to the previous solitary petitions to the government labor department.

However, the Samdong Fellowship first carried out petitions and “public exposure” on a more experienced basis. Jeon Tae-il and the members cautiously distributed questionnaires to workers, quickly collecting over a hundred responses. Through these questionnaires, Jeon Tae-il and the members could more comprehensively analyze the situation of workers in the Peace Market. Most of the depictions and data about the Peace Market we mentioned earlier were basically from the investigations conducted by Jeon Tae-il during this period. Using these survey data, the members completed a petition submitted to the Ministry of Labor. They canvassed signatures from over 90 workers and submitted the petition on October 6, 1970.

At the same time, Jeon Tae-il and others cooperated with journalists, providing them with survey data. The day after the petition was submitted, the local evening newspaper, Kyunghyang Shinmun, published an article exposing the harsh labor conditions in the Peace Market. The fellowship members were ecstatic; by purchasing and pawning items, they obtained 300 copies of the newspaper, then rushed back to the Peace Market. Members wrote slogans such as “Top News of Peace Market” on cardboard, pinned them to their shoulders, and ran around shouting while selling newspapers, some even distributing them for free to young workers.

The previously silent atmosphere in the Peace Market was broken. The 300 newspapers sold out quickly, and workers excitedly circulated the report. Many workers bought newspapers at several times the price and expressed encouraging words to the members. The report caught the attention of the Peace Market management. The Samdong Fellowship also drafted a proposal including demands to shorten working hours, provide wages, install ventilation systems, and menstrual leave for women, which representatives handed over to management for negotiation. In the office, management put on a friendly attitude, saying that meeting these demands was difficult and hoped the representatives would “wait” while employers worked on installing ventilation and lighting. The inexperienced representatives trusted their words and left the office without argument.

Meanwhile, the previously silent Labor Inspection Department responded unusually. Inspectors visited fellowship members, praised them as exemplary youth, and said they would receive bonuses on Labor Day. The head of the Labor Affairs Department warned them not to “demonstrate like rioters” and suggested they find jobs first, promising a reply within a week. The members happily went to look for work.

Why did management and government departments show such seemingly “benevolent” faces to the Samdong Fellowship? This was closely related to the political situation in South Korea at the time. In October 1969, Park Chung-hee instructed the ruling Democratic Republican Party to manipulate the National Assembly to pass a constitutional amendment removing the two-term limit for the presidency, paving the way for his participation in the 1971 presidential election. Park Chung-hee’s ambition to be emperor in the republic was well known. The bourgeois democratic representative Kim Young-sam bluntly stated, “Now, this country only has Hitler-style dictatorship; democracy is completely gone.” With only seven months left before the next year’s election, the struggle between South Korean democratic forces and Park Chung-hee’s fascist group intensified politically. Days earlier, the New Democratic Party, representing the bourgeois democratic faction, officially nominated Kim Dae-jung as its presidential candidate, confronting Park Chung-hee politically. Nationwide mass struggles were also escalating. To maintain fascist dictatorship, Park Chung-hee’s government made various false promises to the Samdong Fellowship through threats and inducements, attempting to numb the workers’ fighting spirit. In fact, neither the Peace Market management nor the inspectors and Labor Affairs Department intended to take any real measures. The Labor Affairs head’s suggestion to find work was actually to distract them from labor activism. What Jeon Tae-il and others did not yet know was that spies had already started monitoring them.

A week passed without any action from the Labor Affairs Department, and the head ignored Jeon Tae-il’s inquiries. In response, Jeon Tae-il decided to organize a demonstration at the Ministry of Labor on October 20, coinciding with the ministry’s annual report to the National Assembly. He hoped to use this opportunity to pressure the Ministry of Labor. Some members hesitated about the demonstration, but after analyzing the situation, Jeon Tae-il believed repression would not be too severe during the election period.

The authorities learned of their plan, and the inspector intervened again, urging Jeon Tae-il: “I will fully exercise my authority as a labor inspector… please wait a day or two.” Tae-il demanded he keep his promise and decided to delay the demonstration. The day after the National Assembly’s annual report, the inspector invited Jeon Tae-il out to eat, saying his demands were unrealistic from the start and promised to provide so-called help for his personal difficulties. “Why don’t you forget about the labor movement?”

Tae-il protested angrily, “Why don’t you keep your promises?” In turn, the labor inspector became furious: “I’ve told you many times, but you don’t listen. Now, the Ministry of Labor’s annual report to the National Assembly is over. Do whatever you want.”

Upon hearing this, the excited members unanimously decided to hold the demonstration on the 24th, immediately launching intense publicity and preparations. Each member was to contact 10 workers, and slogans and banners were quickly formulated.

At 1 p.m. that day, during workers’ lunch break, members had already done sufficient publicity among trusted workers and called others to gather at the National Bank entrance, saying “there will be entertainment activities.” About 500 workers had gathered, aware that a demonstration was imminent.

Suddenly, “Detective Oh” called the fellowship members to the security office on the second floor of the Peace Market. Detective Oh was a notorious agent of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA). The KCIA, established by Park Chung-hee in 1961, was a crucial part of the fascist state apparatus, manipulating elections, torturing, and suppressing mass movements. Its most infamous crime was the 1973 kidnapping of bourgeois democratic leader Kim Dae-jung from a hotel in Tokyo, Japan, with plans to kill him in a bathtub and dismember him, later dragging him onto a ship to drown him, which ultimately failed for various reasons. The KCIA had long closely monitored the Samdong Fellowship. Detective Oh feigned sympathy to gain members’ trust and extract intelligence about the demonstration.

At this time, the Peace Market was heavily policed. Some employers locked factory gates to prevent workers from leaving. Events did not proceed as planned by the fellowship. Jeon Tae-il and several members entered the security office to confront Detective Oh and several Peace Market company board members. Facing angry fellowship members, the directors again used their usual tone to make promises, this time setting the date as November 7. The timid members agreed. The demonstration was dissolved, and workers dispersed in confusion.

The October 24 demonstration failed due to the fellowship’s organizational shortcomings and hesitation in struggle. From the October 7 report onward, the bourgeoisie repeatedly deceived the fellowship with soft and hard tactics, keeping the initiative in their hands. The fellowship’s unclear understanding of the enemy’s class nature caused them to harbor illusions about employers and government, repeatedly accepting those appealing promises. However, the truth eventually came out, revealing the bourgeoisie’s true nature. The events of the 24th made Jeon Tae-il completely lose trust in capitalists and government departments. He knew November 7 would bring nothing, but he delayed to allow other members to make up their minds.

Indeed, no promises were fulfilled on November 7. At a members’ meeting, Jeon Tae-il solemnly proposed a demonstration plan. This time, he suggested symbolically burning the Labor Standards Act. He would read some clauses aloud, then shout, “If these clauses are not enforced, what use are they? These moving clauses are nothing but empty words. So, why don’t we burn them?” Then he lit the Labor Standards Act on fire, and the fellowship and demonstrators shouted slogans and began the demonstration.

Jeon Tae-il told the fellowship members, “We must not surrender; we will fight to the death.” At that time, the members present did not yet understand what this meant.

[沼泽士兵]

This is not just my anger, but the anger of all working youth.
We can no longer endure this.
…
I realize that this cannot go on.
Article 30 of the Labor Standards Act is fundamentally not being followed.
The laws of this country do not protect workers!
— Letter to the President found on Quantai Yi on November 13

We are not machines!
We are not slaves! ***
— Protest slogans created by Quantai Yi and friends

November 11 was Quantai Yi’s last day at home; afterward, he was to stay at a friend’s house to make banners and slogans for the protest. During breakfast, Quanyi’s younger sister, Sunyu, carefully asked her silently eating brother: “Big brother, can you give me some money so I can pay my school fee for the 15th?” Quanyi looked down at his bowl and replied, “Sorry, Sunyu.” When leaving the table, he last said, “Please wait a few days, Sunyu. My wages will be paid…,” then left the house.
To understand the situation on the 13th in detail, many subsequent contents will be directly copied from biographical materials.

Compared to the last protest, more security guards appeared at the peaceful market, and more police cars patrolled there. At 1 p.m., employers were warning workers: “Today, a group of thugs will hold a demonstration; stay inside the factory, do not go out.” To prevent workers from reaching the protest site, security blocked the passage to the National Bank Alley. However, thanks to the active mobilization of members of the “Three Buildings Friendship Association,” about 500 workers gathered near the National Bank in a very short time.
To avoid detection, members of the “Three Buildings Friendship Association” stood in a dark corridor on the third floor of Peace Market, watching the situation unfold below. Several members were pulled away by security and detained in the security office. That morning, Quanyi and other members prepared banners, planning to hide them under their clothes before leaving the third floor of Peace Market.
Around 1:30 p.m., they took out the prepared banners. As they went down the stairs, they pulled them tight so everyone could see the content. When they reached the second floor, two detectives appeared, trying to seize the banners. The banners read: “We are not machines.” During the struggle, the banners were torn.
Some members of the association were beaten severely by police and taken away. The remaining members became extremely angry, shouting: “Do you think we can’t demonstrate without banners?”
They turned around and ran toward another exit. At that exit, Quanyi turned to his friends and said seriously, “You go out and wait for me at the cigarette shop. I’ll be there soon.” Then he was alone in the stairwell, pouring gasoline over himself. Ten minutes later, he took his friend Kim Kinam to a dark alley, asked him to light a match and lean on him, saying, “It seems the situation has developed to this point; one of us must make a sacrifice.” Quanyi said… What pushed Quantai Yi to this moment? Looking back on his life, he had already tried all means of struggle he led. At first, he saved money to buy food for female workers, helped them finish work after hours, but was fired by capitalists because of this; he petitioned inspectors and reported, but received no response; the comprehensive petition analyzed by the labor department was disbanded due to lack of organization; media reports only provided brief attention; he believed in the government, employers, and board of directors, but only received false promises, and police agents always stood with the employers… The legal methods written in the bourgeois state’s laws he had already exhausted. As mentioned earlier, Quanyi, in frustration and confusion, also grew more pessimistic and suicidal, because he saw no other way, so he chose self-immolation.
…A wave of fear swept over Kinam; in an instant, he had a thought: “Quanyi can’t do that.” But Kinam still lit the match according to Quanyi’s words.

“We are not machines!”
“We need rest on weekends!”
“No to worker exploitation!”
“They are not machines!”
Quanyi roared, shouting these slogans loudly, then collapsed to the ground. Eventually, his voice turned into a muffled moan, as if flames were burning in his mouth.
The flames engulfed Quanyi, burning on his body for about three minutes. Everything happened so suddenly that everyone was stunned; no one remembered to try to extinguish the flames. Then, a fellow worker shouted loudly, took off his jacket, and pressed it over the flames. The fire was extinguished.
At that moment, the workers dispersed, while others passing by gathered to watch this terrible scene. Journalists who arrived later took out their notebooks and began writing news reports.
“Don’t let me die in vain.” This terrifying scene was even more frightening than hell. Quanyi’s body was blackened, almost like coal. His skin blistered from the burns, his eyelids rolled up strangely, and his lips swollen.
Even Quanyi’s mother, who raised him and was with him most of his life, could hardly recognize him. Quanyi, with all his strength, shouted: “Don’t let me die in vain!” He wanted to say more, but no one could understand what he was saying.
…
The cut workers and other comrades aware of the demonstration gathered beside the National Bank after hearing the news… Around 2:30 p.m., these workers angrily shouted and launched a protest march.
They shouted slogans:
“Who killed Quanyi?”
“We are not machines!”
“We are not slaves, we are human!”
The angry young workers did not carry the banners prepared earlier; those banners had been confiscated by the police. On new banners, Choi Jong-in and several other workers bit their fingers and wrote slogans with their blood. Carrying these makeshift banners, the angry workers headed toward the East Gate, fighting police riot squads along the way. Soon, their heads were beaten with police batons; workers were knocked down, trampled, kicked, and dragged to the police station like dogs.

Quanyi was quickly taken to the hospital for treatment, wrapped in bandages, surrounded by his mother Lee So-sun and friends. While still conscious, he asked his friends to take care of his mother and complete his unfinished work, “Remember what I said, don’t forget it. Don’t let me die in vain.” Quanyi asked his friends to answer him; everyone fell silent in grief. Suddenly, Quanyi trembled and tried to stand up, shouting loudly: “Why don’t you answer?” His friends were shocked by his words, promising him loudly and trying to stop him. Then Quanyi asked them to swear loudly again, “We swear!” Everyone shouted loudly, and only then did Quanyi calm down.
The doctor told Lee So-sun that if she gave Quanyi injections costing 15,000 won each, his burns would improve. Lee So-sun begged the doctor to start injections, willing to sell everything to pay the medical bills. At that time, a labor inspector followed the ambulance to the hospital; the doctor told her to find the labor inspector as a guarantor. The inspector numbingly said, “Why should I be a guarantor?” and then walked away. When Quanyi was transferred to Saint Mary’s Hospital, that inspector reappeared, vaguely hearing his mother bargaining with the man. At that moment, he strained to question the labor inspector why he betrayed the workers.
The doctor told Lee So-sun that Quanyi had no hope of survival; he was placed in a general ward without treatment, repeatedly telling his mother he was thirsty in his final moments. Not long after 10 a.m. the next morning, Quanyi passed away.
Before leaving home for Jongyu, Quanyi wrote a letter to his classmates, which essentially expressed his final wishes, including several passages:
I have exerted all my strength, pushing that huge stone,
Now, I leave the remaining task to you.
I am going to rest for a while.
I will go to another world.
I hope that there, no one will be threatened by the power of the rich,
or be trampled by force.
Please push that huge stone to the end because I have not completed this task in this world.
As long as possible, I will keep pushing this stone until the end.
Even if it means being exiled to another world.

Lee So-sun crying at Quanyi’s funeral
Quanyi Yi reflects the spontaneous struggle of Korean workers. His final moments still held the “Labor Standards Act,” demanding its enforcement, which seemed just a legal appeal. But can we say that Quanyi Yi was engaged in a legal struggle? No. Under Park Chung-hee’s fascist dictatorship, any demonstration was considered reactionary by the government, let alone organizing unions or striking. In fact, from Quanyi Yi’s last days, he realized that legal struggle was futile — the Labor Standards Act was just scrap paper and would never be enforced. He even explicitly proposed to his friends to publicly burn the Labor Standards Act, destroying the ruling class’s laws, which expressed great anger and rejection of the bourgeois government. He still used the content of the “Labor Standards Act” as his struggle demand, only because for him, implementing those legal provisions was the recent struggle need. Throughout his struggle, Quanyi’s understanding grew, and although he did not directly express a political demand to overthrow the state violence machine in his final moments, he saw how the state machinery protected capitalists’ interests, how government departments and officials colluded with them. As Lenin said: “In many countries, including Russia, the police often begin to give a political character to economic struggles, and workers themselves can learn which side the government is on.”
However, even if Quanyi Yi saw through the nature of the state machinery defending capital, he still could not find a path to true victory — behind him was no workers’ party capable of transforming anger into political struggle. Quanyi Yi’s spontaneous struggle, the organizations he founded like the “Fool’s Society” and the “Three Buildings Friendship Association,” were naive in both understanding and organization, holding illusions about capitalists and the government, unable to resist infiltration by spies. Even though the “Three Buildings Friendship Association” was progressing, even at its highest level, it only aimed to establish unions, unable to break out of trade unionism. Because spontaneous workers’ movements are inherently trade unionist, purely union movements (Lenin).
This is closely related to the political situation in Korea at that time. Korea was initially a bridgehead for U.S. imperialism against the Soviet socialist camp. After its founding, it brutally suppressed North Korean labor communists and socialists; any communist consciousness was banned. During and after the Korean War, the Korean bourgeoisie ruthlessly suppressed socialists, with no complete communist organizations remaining; most members either died in prison or fled to North Korea. Later, with the revision of capitalism by the USSR and China’s Maoist revisionism, the confrontation on the peninsula reflected the rivalry between the two imperialist blocs. Although North Korea moved toward revisionism, for U.S. imperialism and Park Chung-hee’s regime, attacking Marxist ideas north of the 38th parallel was no different from fighting revolutionary Marxism. The dominant anti-government ideology in South Korea was bourgeois democratic thought; most students and intellectuals accepted this. Some bourgeois democratic factions, opposing Park’s government, also had to patch up their stance to oppose communism and “redization.” Any friendliness toward socialism was met with suppression. The “Progressive Party Incident” during Syngman Rhee’s era was a typical example: Cao Fengyan, who participated in the North Korean Communist Party’s Progressive Party, advocating for peaceful reunification and proposing “revising capitalism” and establishing a “democratic socialist society,” was completely destroyed by Rhee’s government, which saw the party’s intent to change Korea’s capitalism as a threat, sentencing Cao Fengyan to death on charges of espionage. Moreover, socialism became a pretext for the bourgeoisie to entrap, attack, and retaliate; in 1975, Park’s government fabricated the existence of the “People’s Revolution Party,” accusing eight democrats of plotting to overthrow the regime and establish a “reactionary puppet government,” sentencing them to death. Under this brutal terror, Quanyi Yi could not access true Marxism; everything he experienced was a reflection of a worker groping in darkness without theoretical guidance — constant struggle, constant wall-bumping, ultimately igniting himself in despair, trying to wake society with death. As Lenin said: “Fighting the government economically is precisely the politics of trade unionism, and trade unionism is far from the politics of social democracy,” and “The leadership of the working class by the Social Democratic Party involves not only striving for favorable conditions for selling labor but also eliminating the social system that forces the poor to sell their bodies to the rich.” This is the fundamental difference between Quanyi Yi and the enlightened workers who accept scientific theory, pointing out not to deny or criticize but to scientifically analyze Quanyi Yi’s thoughts and practices.
Quanyi Yi’s death made the “Han River Miracle” appear especially ironic and hypocritical. Shortly after his sacrifice, student movements surged again, and workers’ resistance also increased. In 1971, South Korea saw 1,600 strikes and protests, ten times more than in 1970. Bourgeois democratic factions, to win over workers and oppose fascist dictatorship, also invoked Quanyi Yi. On November 21, one week after his death, Kim Dae-jung made a public speech condemning the current regime’s policies of hostility toward labor and expressed regret. He announced that the New Democratic Party would include Quanyi Yi’s death in its political agenda and promised reforms after coming to power.
Quanyi Yi’s death also promoted the unity of intellectuals and workers’ movements. The legal vocabulary of the “Labor Standards Act” was obscure and difficult for Quanyi Yi and his friends; he hoped a university student friend could teach him. He also paid attention to student protests in Seoul, once saying, “Students have launched a large march in the city. If we had a university student friend who could teach us how to organize demonstrations, wouldn’t that be helpful?” But even in his final moments, he received little help from these students, which was a great regret for Quanyi Yi. His wish that “it would be great if I had a university student friend” became a famous saying that awakened intellectuals, leading them to more closely unite with workers in struggles. This influence persisted for decades; in 1960, Kim Jin-sook expressed her feelings after reading “Fire by Night: A Biography of Quanyi Yi”: “I cried tears for the first time, feeling ashamed of myself. Not because of anyone, but because of myself. Reading the book, I couldn’t help but burst into tears… I no longer feel ashamed or humiliated like myself and the working girls. I think we should share life and death. Only when I change can they change; when the land under my feet changes, my land will change. For the first time, I thought that humanity should be a noble existence.”
Earlier, the resurgence of the Korean people’s struggle movement in 1971 was truly a new chapter in the workers’ and students’ struggles, inspired by Quanyi Yi’s sacrifice. That year, Park Chung-hee was re-elected through his usual election fraud. To suppress the flames of anger among the Korean people, he shamelessly declared martial law in December, dissolved the National Assembly, and extinguished all political dissent, claiming “preparation for an invasion by the People’s Army.” Park’s martial law aimed to implement a more brutal fascist dictatorship under the so-called “Revised Constitution,” establishing the Fourth Republic in 1972. Park’s atrocities only reflected his fear of the people, and the revised system eventually collapsed amid popular resistance. The Korean Central Intelligence Agency, which infiltrated the “Three Buildings Friendship Association,” was once Park’s powerful tool for dictatorship, but he himself was ultimately assassinated by the CIA director Kim Jae-gyu, ending in disgrace. Whether during Park Chung-hee’s, Chun Doo-hwan’s, or Kim Young-sam’s democratic periods, the struggle of the Korean working class never ceased, and Quanyi Yi’s name was always heard. Today, Quanyi Yi has become a symbol of the struggle of the Korean working class. It should be noted that, due to the widespread bourgeois democratic ideology in Korea, bourgeois democratic factions tend to portray Quanyi Yi in a way that suits their interests, often limiting him to struggles for democracy, “humanitarianism,” and certain economic rights of the working class that the bourgeoisie can tolerate.

Today, a statue of Quanyi Yi stands in Peace Market

Today’s China, the spontaneous movement of the working class continues to rise, and whenever workers attempt to improve their working conditions through economic struggles, they face government repression just like Quanyi Yi. Some find no way out in the dark reality and choose to self-immolate like Quanyi Yi. In 2021, in Taizhou, Jiangsu, delivery worker Liu Jin poured gasoline over himself and set himself on fire at the Meituan delivery station, saying “I don’t want my life anymore, I don’t care, I want my blood and sweat money,” which caused great outrage. But if Marxism could be widely spread among the working class, allowing more workers to see the way forward in struggle, such sacrifices might be greatly reduced. China has millions of Quanyi Yis, but it cannot be just Quanyi Yi alone. His struggle inspires many, but with scientific theory, many unnecessary sacrifices could be avoided. The working class could defeat reactionary bourgeois governments through united struggle, no longer relying on self-immolation. From this perspective, the dissemination of socialist consciousness, the establishment of a revolutionary party, and the current darkness similar to Park Chung-hee’s regime in China are especially urgent.

[校长-布]

@Swamp Soldier

Stroking Tai Yi’s children

Is there a typo here? It doesn’t sound quite right.

[校长-布]

@Swamp Soldier

In 1964, Tai Yi stepped into Seoul’s Peace Market, starting as an apprentice there, ending the almost wandering struggle on the streets. That place would become the main battleground for the remaining six years of Tai Yi’s life.

Born in 1948, by 1964 only six years of life remained, meaning he only lived a total of 22 years. What a pity.

[校长-布]

@Swamp Soldier

Cutters are skilled workers, mostly men aged between twenty and thirty. Capitalists respect them and strive to win their support because the cutters’ abilities have a decisive impact on production. They have more free time and can leave work two to three hours earlier than technicians. The cutters’ status in the factory is essentially that of a labor aristocracy; they serve the capitalists by managing the workers, and even the workers’ wages are settled through them.

The idea that cutters have a decisive impact on production feels a bit strange. By the way, the labor intensity for cutters should not be high, right?

[校长-布]

@Swamp Soldier

He felt that his past life was simply foolish, that there were such good laws and regulations in the world. Quan Taiyi felt he had found hope and believed that relying on the “Labor Standards Act” could change the lives of his fellow workers. He then began to put this into practice…

It indeed reflects that without exposure to Marxism, workers can easily fall into the lies of the bourgeoisie.

[沼泽士兵]

Due to space limitations, the details are not elaborated here. Below are two excerpts from the original text describing apprentices and cutters:
In fact, apprentices (also called “shidas”) are more important than assistant technicians or cutters because their work includes various tasks: such as helping technicians and cutters with ironing, trimming loose threads, attaching buttons and threads under the orders of technicians or cutters, and doing all kinds of tasks requested by the boss. Apprentices mostly come from poor families that are too poor to send their children to complete elementary school. Apprentices are between 12 and 15 years old. They join the workforce hoping to learn a skill and earn money to help their families. During peak production seasons, one can see a “Urgently Needed Apprentices” notice posted at the entrance of every factory in the Peace Market.
……
Most cutters are young men in their twenties or thirties who have seen more of the world than the girls. The management respects cutters more because they are skilled workers who have a decisive impact on the factory’s profitability. If a cutter makes a mistake or delays work progress, the factory cannot operate. Especially during peak production seasons, such incidents have a significant impact on the factory’s business. This is why Quan Taiyi labels cutters as “the boss’s capable right-hand men.”
However, the above description is somewhat exaggerated. Ultimately, it is always the factory owners or capital providers who hold the most power. Unlike technicians, cutters receive wages, and if they work long enough at a factory, their wages will increase to a considerable extent. Usually, management strives to gain the support of cutters so that they can exploit technicians and their subordinate apprentices, as well as other workers, through them.
Thus, a close relationship forms between management and cutters, with cutters tending to side with the factory owners. This is precisely what makes Quan Taiyi angry.
Usually, experienced cutters have more free time than technicians. Cutters are responsible for cutting the fabric needed for a day’s work, and they complete their tasks at least two to three hours earlier than technicians. Cutters have a huge influence on other workers; it is no exaggeration to say that ten cutters can manage two hundred workers.

[沼泽士兵]

It should be the forehead, it has been corrected.