In front of a calligraphy scroll, a white-haired man kneels and weeps. This is a photo of the descendant of an independence fighter, taken on August 7 at the National Museum of Korea. Just days later, the director of the National Museum of Korea bowed his head in apology, leaving the descendants of the patriotic martyr—who had wept with overwhelming emotion—to suffer in silent agony. Here is the astonishing story.
 
The man in the spotlight is Park Yong-hyeon, the son of independence activist Park Won-geun. Hailing from Boeun, North Chungcheong Province, the elder Park was an anti-Japanese activist who was imprisoned twice during the 1930s for his involvement in the Saminhoe and Sinin Club incidents resisting Japanese colonial rule. After liberation, when the Korean War broke out, he was massacred by the Boeun police in 1950, and it took 60 years for his contributions to the anti-Japanese movement to be officially recognized, a story covered by SBS in 2020. At that time, Park Yong-hyeon described his faint memories of his father as follows.

[Park Yong-hyeon / Son of Independence Activist Park Won-geun (August 2020): "My father is listed on the 'Japanese Surveillance Target Profile Card.' Other than that, I only have intermittent thoughts and memories of my father..."]

Independence fighters of that era often left behind virtually no personal effects as they evaded pursuit by Japanese authorities, and the same was true for Park. For the son who lived for decades clinging to faint memories and longing, surprising news arrived recently: a handwritten calligraphy piece by his father was on display at the National Museum of Korea. Rushing to the exhibition hall, he saw the calligraphy clearly introduced as his father's work, and believing he was seeing a trace of his father for the first time, he wept tears of joy. Ahead of National Liberation Day, this touching story spread across social media, drawing widespread attention. Praise followed, saying the National Museum of Korea had done a great deed. But the real upheaval occurred right after.
 
On August 11, SBS received a tip-off that the calligraphy relic had been quietly removed after allegations arose that it might not be the work of Park, but someone else. Our reporting team visited the site. Where Park had shed tears of joy, only a single poem was hanging.

[Exhibition Official (Afternoon of August 11): "It has been replaced. Due to personal circumstances..."]

When we asked the museum what those "personal circumstances" meant, they replied that after the exhibition opened, a report was received suggesting the possibility of it being the work of someone with the same name, and concluding that re-verification was necessary, they withdrew it from the gallery on the afternoon of August 10. The piece was taken down just three days after Park had visited. However, reporting revealed that the person sharing the same name happens to be considered one of the most prominent pro-Japanese collaborators (chinilpa). That figure is Park Jung-yang, a high-ranking pro-Japanese official who served as a member of the Imperial Diet of Japan and was accused of taking the lead in suppressing the March 1st Independence Movement. His name before being renamed is known to have been Park Won-geun, identical to the independence activist. Faced with the claim that calligraphy introduced as embodying the spirit of an anti-Japanese independence fighter might actually be the trace of a collaborator on the exact opposite side of history, the National Museum of Korea was thrown into turmoil and hastily began a re-appraisal.
 
At this point, a question arises. Why did the museum assert and introduce it as the work of the patriotic martyr Park Won-geun in the first place? The calligraphy in question was displayed in the special exhibition "Our Dining Table," which opened at the National Museum of Korea on July 1. Planned as an exhibition comprehensively exploring Korea's culinary culture, it is understood that the museum obtained the privately owned calligraphy while searching for relics that matched this concept. The Chinese characters on the artwork, "Il-ban-si-guk-eun" (Even a single bowl of rice is the nation's grace), are known as the words of Master Yeonggyu, the first Buddhist monk commander during the Imjin War. In one corner of the artwork, the words "Korean Park Won-geun" were written. The museum explained that because the owner of the artifact introduced it as Park's work, and because it included the descriptor "Korean" alongside the name like other patriots while quoting the words of a righteous army commander who fought against Japan, they had no reason to suspect otherwise, let alone imagine that it could be the work of a pro-Japanese collaborator.

Although the museum had consulted various experts beforehand, it admitted that there were deficiencies in the verification process. As the National Museum of Korea is the nation's most authoritative cultural institution, even displaying a minor collection item is supposed to undergo extremely stringent procedures. The cultural community pointed out that it is difficult to understand how such an institution invited controversy over flawed verification, tarnishing its reputation. Having removed the calligraphy without any announcement, the museum abruptly posted an apology on its website on the evening our coverage began. The following day, Director Yu Hong-june personally bowed in apology and promised preventive measures, including multifaceted cross-verification of artifacts.
 
There are people who must not be forgotten: the descendants of activist Park Won-geun, who wept emotional tears trusting the museum's explanation. When we contacted them, they could not hide their utter dismay at the bolt-from-the-blue news that within just a few days, the piece might not be an heirloom of their ancestor after all, and worse, could be the handwriting of a pro-Japanese collaborator who tormented independence activists. Even so, they refrained from harsh criticism, stating that as descendants of a patriotic martyr, it would not be right to take the lead in undermining the prestige of a state institution, and expressed hope that the museum would do its best to determine the authenticity. While their response reflected the dignity of an independence fighter's family, establishing the authenticity they seek appears far from easy at present.


As mentioned earlier, Park left behind no personal relics. There is nothing to compare against to verify his handwriting. In essence, there was never any solid scientific basis to conclude it was Park's handwriting in the first place. The situation remains the same now during the re-appraisal. The museum is currently conducting comparative appraisals against the surviving handwriting samples of Park Jung-yang. However, experts note that even if it is concluded not to be Park Jung-yang's work, that does not automatically prove it belongs to activist Park Won-geun, as it could be the work of a third party, making uncovering the truth extremely difficult. The museum plans to review the authenticity and announce its conclusion as early as the end of this month.
 
Coincidentally, on the day immediately following the museum's official apology, Park's descendants headed to Cheong Wa Dae. They had been invited to an event for the descendants of national merit recipients ahead of National Liberation Day.

[President Lee Jae-myung: "The state will fulfill its responsibilities and duties so that there is no deficiency in protecting the honor and lives of your ancestors and of yourselves."]

Following the SBS report, Park's descendant remarked, "Thank you for remembering activist Park Won-geun and taking a deep interest in our family's story." He added, "We ask for your continued interest and support so that the museum's investigation can be conducted transparently going forward." This reflects the call for the nation to fulfill its duties and responsibilities without falling short in protecting the honor and lives of both the forebears who dedicated themselves to reclaiming lost sovereignty and their descendants. Whether the truth behind the tears shed by the white-haired elder can be uncovered now puts the nation's premier cultural institution to the test.