Prison Writings<i> by Kim Dae Jung; translated by Choi Sung-il; foreword by David McCann (University of California: $18.95; 333 pp.)</i>

In Korea, Kim Dae Jung is a name virtually synonymous with “democracy.” A staunch believer in human rights and the democratic system, he has struggled during his whole life against the military dictatorships that have prevailed in South Korea under flimsy veils of bogus democratic institutions. At the same time, he has been an adamant opponent of the inhumanity and atheistic communism that dominates North Korea.

In 1971, Kim thoroughly frightened the military dictator of South Korea, the former Gen. Park Chung Hee, by almost winning the elections for the presidency of South Korea, despite the government’s blatant use of the local officials, the police and the various other levers of power. Since then, he has been a marked man, condemned at times to death, repeatedly imprisoned, and often under house arrest when not in prison. Attempts have been made on his life. The most outrageous case was when he was kidnaped in 1973 in a Tokyo hotel by agents of the Korean CIA, spirited to a ship and prepared for drowning at sea. Only the spotting of the ship by a Japanese plane and heavy pressure by the Japanese and American governments and people saved his life.

In September, 1980, Kim was sentenced to death for alleged past plots. For more than two years, he was allowed to communicate with his family only by a single strictly censored one-sheet letter each month. The 29 letters he wrote at this time make up this book. Finally, he was allowed to go to the United States for medical treatment; probably the Korean government did not wish the onus of having him die on their hands. He is now back in Korea but still under a suspended sentence and banned from all political activity.

There can be no doubt that Kim Dae Jung is a true hero of the struggle for democracy and human rights, not only in Korea but in the whole world. But what could he write that is of interest to the general public in 29 very discreet and heavily censored letters to his family? He carefully eschews all references to current Korean politics. The closest he comes to political commentary are a short essay on “Modernization and Democracy” and the statement that “arguments that democracy at this stage of fighting communism is premature are simply not right.” This is not a book that will add to our knowledge of the details of the struggle for democracy in Korea. But it still has much to tell us about Kim himself--his devout Christianity, iron will, unflinching bravery and dogged championship of democracy and human rights. Through his character, we indirectly learn a great deal about the strength and depth of the democratic movement in Korea.

The book centers around two main themes. One is Kim’s simple, straightforward Christian faith. In one of his early letters, he writes, “Our Lord Jesus personified the ideal love. . . . A genuine affirmation of the Christian faith depends on whether or not one accepts the Resurrection of Jesus as historically valid. . . . The happiness we derive from becoming Christians consists of loving, not hating our enemies and of offering to our troubled neighbors and others our loving hearts and service as the will of Christ.” Much of Kim’s letters are devoted to similar comments, which will constitute their chief interest for those who are religiously inclined.

A second central theme is the strong family solidarity the book displays. In typical East Asian fashion, Kim implies his devotion to his wife rather than dwelling on it in verbal effusiveness, but to his children, he pours out his love in encouragement and advice. The reader becomes engrossed in the development of the whole family. The eldest son, Hong-il, apparently was himself imprisoned for a while; Hong-il’s wife, who is always referred to as “Jee-young’s mother,” is showered with praise and advice; the growth of their two small daughters, Jee-young and Chung-hwa, is touchingly described; Kim blames himself because his second son, Hong-up, has failed to find a suitable wife or job, and late in the book, is denied a passport for travel to the United States; we suffer with the third son, Hong-gul, as he prepares for the college entrance examinations and rejoice when he finally wins acceptance into the college of his choice.

Kim’s letters show us the firmness of the Korean family system. It is undoubtedly one of the chief sources of the strength of Korean society. Together with Kim’s Christian faith, it accounts for Kim’s rocklike character. But strong as he undoubtedly is, he still required a purposeful program of activities to maintain his morale as he languished in prison, isolated, under a sentence of death, and suffering from serious bodily ailments. His monthly letters were part of his regime of morale building. Though written on a single sheet of paper, described in the “foreword” as a “postcard,” they are extraordinarily lengthy, becoming longer as he perfected a form of tiny penmanship. The later ones average 24 pages in print. One is reminded of the miracle of the loaves and the fishes.

Many of Kim’s letters include long lists of books he wanted his family to bring him. He read omnivorously. Nietzsche seems to have been his favorite, though one wonders how Nietzsche’s ruthless superman could appeal to such a loving, egalitarian democrat. Other favorite authors run from Teilhard de Chardin to John Kenneth Galbraith, Andre Maurois, Karl Jaspers, Raymond Aron, Bertram Russell, Gunnar Myrdal, Toynbee, Camus, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy and Dickens. His comments on these writers show catholic tastes but also an ability to fit pieces of what he has read into his own balanced, commonsensical views.

His letters are full of little essays on history and human nature. Occasionally, one finds sections labeled “Thought Fragments.” The term would apply to the bulk of the letters. Kim’s comments do not build up into any clear overarching philosophy, but they obviously served their purpose in keeping him mentally alert and growing.

“Prison Writings” do not tell the story of the democratic movement in Korea. Rather, they paint an intellectual and spiritual picture of the man who is perhaps the greatest champion of Korean democracy. In his unshakable Christian faith and his devotion to the best in East Asian Confucianism, as seen in the solidarity of the family system, one perceives a happy blending of East and West. I am reminded of a scroll of four Chinese characters written in Kim’s strong hand that I proudly hang in my living room. Taken from the Chinese Classics, it reads Shih jen ju t’ien , which means “Serving man is like serving Heaven.”