寫給台灣的情書

圖為原警備總部景美軍法處的軍事法庭，美麗島事件之後，我曾被押到那裡應訊。

那天，上樓敲門的，是一個黨外圈大家都認識的警總組員。台灣人，扮演某種較軟性，帶點「自己人」親切感的傳話角色。幾度看他神色困窘的坐在「家屬」聚會的客廳裡。也曾在街頭的群眾活動中，看他站在角落，把風衣領子往上拉，遮住半張臉，貼著一支無線對講機說話。

他敲門時，我正端著臉盆穿過走廊回房。那是政大對面巷子，租給學生，隔成一格格的小房間。他轉身看到我，伸手遞過一紙公文。房門打開，前一夜借宿的同學揉著睡眼站在那裡，我把手上的公文塞給他，說，「幫我留著。」那個人稱「抓耙仔」的伸手奪回。我放下臉盆，兩人一起下樓。

路邊的黑頭車後座車門開著。我先進去，裡頭坐著一名壯漢，站在車門邊那個再擠進來，兩人把我緊緊夾在中間，一路都沒有人說話。我心想，媽的，忘了戴手錶，以後寫回憶錄，連第一個時間點都無法確定。

他們把我帶進上圖那個軍事法庭，《八十年代》雜誌的同事林濁水兄，和專印黨外雜誌和選戰傳單，並兼任信介仙「保鏕」的張榮華兄已經在裡頭……

面對二二八事件六十周年，一股回憶、找尋、訴說，和書寫的熱情似乎蔓延開來，或許更多人也開始聆聽、閱讀，彌補認識的空白。「轉型」與「正義」，「真相」與「和解」這些字眼，更廣泛也更深刻的在人群裡醞釀發酵。我停下來，努力的嗅著，想要分辨空中雜然紛陳的氣息。

訴說／聆聽，書寫／閱讀，記憶／失憶，控訴／否認，對話／疏離，接納／抗拒，和解／撕裂……我們愈逼近真相的具體情節，那些屠殺鞭撻針刺電擊關押流放的痛苦，那些威嚇欺瞞誘騙收買分化的陰毒，越是歷歷在目，感同身受。我猜測這是為什麼遲遲不肯把張茂桂兄在十多天前傳來，那篇刊於紐約時報，描述一位韓國和尚被刑求監禁十五年的悲劇，以及韓國追求轉型正義之困難的報導，繼續讀下去的原因。

「……他們把我剝光，綁在鐵椅上，再把電線接到我的生殖器。開關扳起時，電流竄過脊椎痛擊大腦，我的身體彷彿彈起一米高……」（我想了又想，想那位大和尚掙扎著要不要在臨終前吐露他埋藏最深的記憶……猶豫著要不要把紐約時報的全文附在篇末。）人間的迫害與被迫害，都是類似如此，令人聞之如遭電擊的情節。但訴說和聆聽之間，卻滋生種種不同的反應。我們都明白，台灣比其他國家還多一重困難。泛濫全島的主流論述，或明或暗的緊抱內戰邏輯，你，命定的，只能在正義／不義，被害／加害，兩份僅有的判決名單裡，尋找自己的名字。不是自我，就是他者；或者是敵，或者是友。

我們如何在這樣氣息濃烈，流竄衝撞的昏亂裡，嗅到希望，尋找第三種、第四種，更多的選擇。我們有什麼別的方式來訴說書寫，聆聽閱讀；有什麼別的方式，來連結我們自己和那一段不堪的歷史，同時創造存活下去的可能。

真相不必然導致和解，各國的經驗早已証實。真相只能教我們警惕，珍惜民主轉型的可貴。我們揭發加害的真相，不在於指控你或他，或哪個特定的族類，而在於指出威權統治的恐怖手段，是文明人類的公敵，你我都應唾棄，並確保永不再犯同樣的罪。

我回憶自己在訴說和書寫時的聲氣、口吻、眼神，並檢視其間可能隱藏的「次文本─ sub-text」……

又想著，設若僅止於訴說書寫／聆聽閱讀，即使我們極謹慎的將譴責局限於特定的「人類公敵」，並避免武斷而絕望的二分，是不是就能激發足夠的能量，積極的架構有盼望的未來。我們一面挖掘，是不是也得播種，而非徒然留下坑坑洞洞。

前不久哪天的夜裡，我從床上跳起來，找到紙筆，寫「我們一起重建一艘戎克船」，停了半晌，又寫「and have fun」。隔天清晨上網查詢，台南市政府已經於2006年底作成一份：台灣船復原計劃。

建一艘戎克船，怎麼會想要建一艘戎克船？我在想，如果把歷史當作一面難以重圓的破鏡暫且擱下，在裂開的土地上種一顆會重新活過來的種子，以今日之我，應當可以活出一條不同的歷史軌跡。恰如夢想著進入時光隧道，回到過去，我們是不是可能重新「創造過去」。並且，是「一起」來重編劇本，一起演出，一起想像我們寧願共同擁有的「歷史願景」，創造能賦予我們希望的神話與傳奇。

暫且放下「被」割裂，以至連對話都難以展開的過去，讓我們在想像中一越而過，開始「一起」做件有樂趣的事。譬如說「一起重建一艘戎克船，and have fun」。

戎克船Junk，是載運近代漢人移民渡過黑水溝到台灣的船隻。我們一起搭建想像中可能在泉州港邊的船塢，一起查閱典籍，尋找戎克船的型制規範，一起扮演登船的「羅漢腳」，一起祈求觀音菩薩的庇祐，一起航向波濤詭譎的海峽……我們宛如親臨歷史現場，一起演出蓽路襤褸以啟山林……

慢著！有一幕劇情要討論一下。

我們的漢人祖先登陸之後，和更早幾千幾萬年，就划著叫「艋舺─Monka」的獨木舟率先入住的南島祖先，是怎麼相遇的？那些驅趕、詐騙、強奪、剝削，和襲擊、馘首之間，互相對抗的歷史「真相」，以今日「轉型」之我，回到當時第一次接觸的現場，你希望如何改寫劇本，重新演出……

假設將這個「原漢祖先初遇故事」，當作課外活動的主題，邀請全國各學校班級和成人社團都來創作劇本排練演出，並且擇其優者透過媒體傳播，讓舉國民眾參與討論評選。我們極可能發現，絕大多數人寧可共享一段美麗快樂的邂逅。像是在月光穿透的椰子樹下，訴說和聆聽開天闢地的神話，眾人同飲佳釀，男女眉目傳情，歌聲纏綿清亮，梅花鹿在草原上抬頭，彷彿也沈醉其間……

我們在心底都寧可重新譜一段互相愛慕的歷史，都渴望共同擁有令人引為美談的傳奇。即使是一九四五年，二戰結束，運兵船和難民船帶來的另一段遭遇。

在共同參與的創作和演出裡，你無法想像一個人對身邊的同學朋友鄰居說，我必需以你為敵，我要折磨你、鞭打你，我要你死，要你痛不欲生。不，不可能的。以今日的你，今日的我，我們會拒絕那種「人類公敵」安排的劇本。我們寧可一起重新來過……

是不是要先和解，真相才會浮現？是不是要先共事，分享創造的快樂，建立新的社群感，我們才能共讀「……他們把我剝光，綁在鐵椅上，再把電線接到我的生殖器。開關扳起時，電流竄過脊椎痛擊大腦，我的身體彷彿彈起一米高……」的駭人情節，而共同感到不可思議，並共同厭棄那些「人類公敵」，相互盟誓永遠拒絕以不義的手段對待每一個人。

轉型和正義，真相與和解，是人類在新世紀最艱難的公共議題。我們救贖的希望，或者在於賦予它無邊無際的想像空間……

我猶豫著要不要將紐約時報那篇報導附在後面。那是發生在韓國的故事，離我們遠些，或者你願意找些人「共讀」……

林世煜／2007年3月21日

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South Korea Reviews Its Dark Past, but the Pace Is Slow
By CHOE SANG-HUN
Published: March 11, 2007

SEOUL, South Korea, March 9 — In his final days, the Venerable Bogwang, a fisherman turned Buddhist monk, wrestled with his conscience. The scriptures he revered exhorted him to leave behind the entanglements of the material world.

Before becoming a monk, the Venerable Bogwang was Lee Sang-chul, a fisherman who was imprisoned and tortured by his government.

But he could not shake off the nightmarish memories of the interrogation room of South Korea’s once-infamous Army Security Command, where, he said, he was held for 43 days and tortured in 1983.

“They tied me naked in a steel chair and attached an electric cord to my genitals,” he said in his last interview. “When they threw the switch, electricity bolted through my spine and jolted my brain. It was as if my body jumped a meter off the floor.”

By the time the military interrogators were done with him, he had signed a confession that said he was a Communist spy. He served 15 years, and during that time his wife, who had also been tortured, divorced him, and he never saw his children again. He was released in 1998 and became a monk two years later.

He joined scores of South Koreans fighting to clear their names of political subversion charges under the military dictatorships from the 1960s to the 80s. Under the auspices of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, established by the government of President Roh Moo-hyun at the end of 2005, investigations are under way. Verdicts are being reviewed and in some cases overturned.

But on Feb. 25, the Venerable Bogwang died, apparently of natural causes, at his hillside monastery, 60 miles south of Seoul.

His death, at 57, was a reminder of the painfully slow progress the Roh government is making in delving into the country’s tumultuous history, and what a political minefield the past remains in South Korea.

In the interview nine days before his death, he spoke passionately about his campaign to establish the truth of what happened to him 24 years before, at a time when the military government often resorted to red scares to quash political opposition.

“Senior monks say that I should forgive everything and leave it behind; they say hatred begets hatred,” he said. “But they also say I should seek truth. My mind is full of conflict. One thing I know is that I cannot leave behind the false charge that I was a Communist spy.”

Former political prisoners are coming forward with accounts of witch hunts and torture that can sound unreal to young South Koreans today. Large-scale antigovernment demonstrations, tear gas and firebombs have long since receded from the streets. North Korea stirs more sympathy for its economic plight than it does fear.

The Korea of three decades ago was a very different place.

On Sept. 26, 1971, Lee Sang-chul — the man who would become the Venerable Bogwang — was a deckhand on a fishing boat that drifted into North Korean waters during a storm. It was seized by North Korean patrol boats.

The 21 crewmen were allowed to return home after 11 months, amid a budding easing of tensions. Beforehand, however, the North Korean authorities brought in Mr. Lee’s uncle, who had been reported missing during the 1950-53 Korean War. They warned Mr. Lee that a “bad thing” would happen to his uncle if he did not spy for them.

Once back in the South, Mr. Lee underwent a 90-day debriefing and, according to the police, confessed that he had been trained to spy. The crewmen were tried and given suspended one-year sentences for entering Communist waters.

The young Mr. Lee thought his troubles were over. But 12 years later, on Nov. 15, 1983, agents from the Army Security Command, a powerful intelligence outfit loyal to the military dictator Chun Doo-hwan, arrived at the shipyard where he was working and shoved him into a black sedan.

The espionage activities of both North Korea and South Korea had diminished with the mid-1970s easing of tensions, but political persecution had not.

In the South, anti-Communist squads from the police, the military and the main intelligence agency closely monitored Koreans living in Japan, relatives of South Koreans taken to the North during the war, relatives of the South Korean fishermen abducted after the war and never seen again — and those who, like Mr. Lee, managed to return.

The government saw them as potential threats, and, according to testimony and investigative reports by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, as a pool of scapegoats.

“They asked me to draw a map of the shipyard,” the Venerable Bogwang recalled. “When I did, they said I got that information for spy purposes. They asked me where the police station was in my town and how many officers were there. When I answered, they said I collected that information for the North Koreans.”

Interrogators deprived him of sleep for days, then made him sit in front of high-intensity lights, he said. They tied him to a rod like “a pig being roasted,” put a wet towel over his nose and eyes, and poured water laced with mustard or pepper into his mouth.

Kim Byung-jin, 51, who was an interpreter for interrogators at the Army Security Command, called such methods of torture common.

“They could make the victim say whatever they wanted him to say,” he said. “Truth was irrelevant.”

Mr. Kim did not just see the torture. A Korean resident of Japan, he was studying at Yonsei University in Seoul in 1983 when he was brought in as a Communist suspect and tortured before being put on the military’s payroll for two years.

“I still hear them saying to me, ‘You ready? Here we go!’ as they cranked up the generator to send electricity to the wire tied around my fingers,” Mr. Kim said in an interview last month. He said he admitted to “nonsensical charges” after they threatened to send his wife to a brothel and his infant son to an orphanage.

In November, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission began releasing its reports, recommending that the courts retry several spy cases that it concluded were built on torture and fabricated evidence. The commission also recommended that the state formally apologize to those wrongly convicted. On Jan. 23, a court acquitted, posthumously, eight men who were hanged in 1975 on charges of organizing a “People’s Revolutionary Party,” ostensibly to overthrow the government at North Korea’s behest. The court found that the men were executed on the basis of confessions extracted under torture.

But with a presidential election looming at the end of this year, the investigations are raising political hackles. Conservative critics call them a “score-settling” by leftists.

“This is a political offensive against me,” Park Geun-hye, the daughter of Park Chung-hee, who ruled South Korea with an iron fist for 18 years until his assassination in 1979, told reporters in January. She hopes to run in the December election as a candidate of the conservative opposition.

During the interview, the Venerable Bogwang recalled the day his interrogators brought in his daughter and son, aged 6 and 4, to weaken his resolve.

“My daughter said, ‘Daddy, please come home,’ and kissed me,” he said. “That was 24 years ago, and the last time I saw them.”