On May 8, 2026, at 3 p.m., a gathering took place at the Memorial Hall of the National Cemetery in Dongjak-dong, Seoul, where attendees paid their respects to a prominent journalist. The event commemorated the 136th birthday and the 81st anniversary of the passing of Goha (古下) Song Jin-woo.
Hosted by the Goha Song Jin-woo Memorial Foundation and supported by the Ministry of Patriots and Veterans Affairs and the Dong-A Ilbo, the ceremony was more than just a memorial; it was a moment to reflect on the origins and future of Korean journalism.
The atmosphere in the Memorial Hall was solemn. The ceremony began with a national tribute, followed by the reading of a biography, memorial speeches, a commemorative lecture, a tribute performance, floral tributes, incense offerings, and a moment of silence. Over 300 participants, including descendants of independence activists, veterans, academics, journalists, and citizens, gathered to honor Goha's life.
Hyun Byeong-cheol, president of the Goha Free Democratic Research Institute, stated, "The values of freedom and responsibility, peace and coexistence, unity and democracy that Goha left behind are crucial principles that must be upheld even today." This statement served as a stern warning to contemporary Korean society and a profound reflection on the divided times we live in.
Yoo Hong-rim, president of Seoul National University, also paid tribute to Goha's life, noting, "In the harsh reality of the Japanese colonial period, he prioritized the freedom and dignity of the nation over his own safety." This sentence encapsulates the essence of Goha's life.
While Goha was a journalist, he was not merely a newspaper publisher. He was also an educator, an independence activist, and a politician. However, the most significant title he held was that of a 'public servant' (公人). He placed the fate of his nation and community above his own well-being in the face of the responsibilities demanded by the times.
The name 'Goha' means 'standing beneath the old.' It signifies humility before history and tradition, emphasizing a commitment to learning from the past. This is not merely a virtue of modesty; it embodies the spirit of a modern intellectual who sought to balance tradition and modernity, nation and world, freedom and responsibility.
The final resonances of the memorial were deepened by a eulogy from Professor Song Sang-hyun, an honorary professor at Seoul National University and Goha's grandson. He reflected on Goha's life not just as a family memory but as a legacy of commitment to independence and the establishment of a free democratic state. He emphasized the importance of passing on the values of freedom, democracy, and national dignity that Goha cherished to future generations. This was a time to reaffirm the spirit of independence and the essence of journalism.
The heavy footsteps of attendees leaving the Memorial Hall reflected this sentiment. That day, we were not merely commemorating one journalist; we were questioning the essence of journalism itself.
Who was Goha Song Jin-woo? He was born in 1890 in Damyang, Jeollanam-do. His family lineage is from Sinpyeong, and his pen name is Goha. From a young age, he studied Confucian classics and learned about the sorrows of a nation in despair under the guidance of independence activist Ki Sam-yeon. After encountering modern studies, he traveled to Japan and graduated from Meiji University with a degree in law.
During his time in Japan, he formed a deep bond with Inchon (仁村) Kim Seong-su. Their relationship transcended mere academic camaraderie; it was a friendship akin to the legendary bond between Guan Zhong and Bao Shuya from ancient China. Like them, Goha and Inchon understood each other's intentions and acknowledged their roles as they walked the path of national education and journalism together.
While Inchon laid the foundation for national education and journalism through capital and organization, Goha supported this path with intellect, logic, and writing. Though they had different roles, their goal was unified: to preserve the national spirit of colonial Korea.
After returning to Korea, Goha became the vice principal and later the principal of Jungang School. At that time, Jungang School was not merely an educational institution; it was a cradle of national consciousness and a space where the spirit of the March 1st Movement flourished.
Goha discussed strategies for independence with figures such as Kim Seong-su, Hyeon Sang-yun, Choi Rin, and Choi Nam-seon. Following the March 1st Movement in 1919, he was arrested and imprisoned in Seodaemun Prison. Although he was acquitted in court, he endured nearly a year and a half of imprisonment.
However, prison could not break his convictions. In 1921, Goha became the third president of the Dong-A Ilbo. He later served as president, advisor, and chief editor, intertwining his fate with that of the newspaper. For him, the newspaper was not merely a business; it was the voice, ears, and breath of the nation.
Thus, he endeavored to uphold the newspaper's role as a public instrument even amid Japanese oppression. The Dong-A Ilbo launched the Movement for the Promotion of Local Products, advocated for the establishment of a national university, and took the lead in the BnaRod Movement to eradicate illiteracy. Goha believed that journalism should not just convey events but also cultivate the survival capacity of the nation.
The newspaper had to be the eye of the times, the voice of the weak, and the conscience of the nation. In 1936, when marathon runner Sohn Ki-jung won a gold medal at the Berlin Olympics, the Dong-A Ilbo published a photo of him with the Japanese flag removed from his chest. This incident, known as the 'removal of the Japanese flag incident,' was not merely an editorial act; it was a journalistic resistance to preserve the dignity of a nation in despair. As a result of this incident, the Dong-A Ilbo faced a suspension and Goha was forced to resign under pressure from the colonial government. However, he did not succumb; he merely stepped down.
The Japanese authorities pressured him to cooperate with them, urging him to participate in Shinto rituals and recruit students for military service. Yet, Goha ultimately refused. He protested, stating, "The Dong-A Ilbo is my voice, my ears, my breath, my hands and feet. How can someone whose entire being has been severed act?" He believed that demanding cooperation while silencing the voice of journalism was akin to selling the nation's conscience, which he could not accept.
After liberation, Goha faced another historical challenge. While liberation brought joy, it also ushered in chaos. The ideological divide was severe, and the shadows of U.S. and Soviet military administrations loomed over the Korean Peninsula. Goha organized the Preparatory Committee for the National Assembly and served as the chief secretary of the Korean Democratic Party, seeking a path toward a free democratic state. However, the joy of liberation was short-lived.
On the morning of December 30, 1945, he was shot at his home in Wonsa-dong, Seoul, ending his life at the age of 55. Goha's death was a personal tragedy, but it also marked a tragedy in modern Korean history. Yet, his life is not merely remembered as a tragedy.
He exemplified what journalism should be. He did not bow before power, did not retreat before his nation, and did not remain silent in the face of the times. His journalism was not a commercial skill but a public conscience.
Today, Korean journalism must once again ask itself in the shadow of Goha. For whom do we write? Do we write for clicks or for truth? For factions or for the community? In the age of artificial intelligence (AI), journalism has gained unprecedented speed and efficiency. AI can quickly generate articles, and algorithms can finely analyze reader preferences.
However, no matter how advanced technology becomes, the essence of journalism remains unchanged: to verify facts, monitor power, protect the vulnerable, and illuminate the direction of the community. AI may be able to write articles, but it cannot replace the conscience of journalism. Algorithms can analyze interests but cannot judge justice.
Thus, the spirit of Goha is even more urgent in the age of AI. It is about balancing freedom and responsibility, nation and world, fact and conscience, journalism and public service. Honoring the name of Goha Song Jin-woo is not merely about reminiscing about the past; it is about reaffirming the position that today's journalism must occupy.
The spirit of friendship that preserved national education and journalism alongside Inchon Kim Seong-su, and the essence of journalism that upheld its public duty even amid Japanese oppression, are more crucial than ever in our society today.
Goha has departed, but the questions he left behind remain unresolved. Whose side should journalism be on? The answer is clear: journalism should not side with power, capital, or factions. Journalism must stand on the side of truth. This is the path that Goha Song Jin-woo has left behind, and it is the path that today's Korean journalism must walk again.
Hosted by the Goha Song Jin-woo Memorial Foundation and supported by the Ministry of Patriots and Veterans Affairs and the Dong-A Ilbo, the ceremony was more than just a memorial; it was a moment to reflect on the origins and future of Korean journalism.
The atmosphere in the Memorial Hall was solemn. The ceremony began with a national tribute, followed by the reading of a biography, memorial speeches, a commemorative lecture, a tribute performance, floral tributes, incense offerings, and a moment of silence. Over 300 participants, including descendants of independence activists, veterans, academics, journalists, and citizens, gathered to honor Goha's life.
Hyun Byeong-cheol, president of the Goha Free Democratic Research Institute, stated, "The values of freedom and responsibility, peace and coexistence, unity and democracy that Goha left behind are crucial principles that must be upheld even today." This statement served as a stern warning to contemporary Korean society and a profound reflection on the divided times we live in.
Yoo Hong-rim, president of Seoul National University, also paid tribute to Goha's life, noting, "In the harsh reality of the Japanese colonial period, he prioritized the freedom and dignity of the nation over his own safety." This sentence encapsulates the essence of Goha's life.
While Goha was a journalist, he was not merely a newspaper publisher. He was also an educator, an independence activist, and a politician. However, the most significant title he held was that of a 'public servant' (公人). He placed the fate of his nation and community above his own well-being in the face of the responsibilities demanded by the times.
The name 'Goha' means 'standing beneath the old.' It signifies humility before history and tradition, emphasizing a commitment to learning from the past. This is not merely a virtue of modesty; it embodies the spirit of a modern intellectual who sought to balance tradition and modernity, nation and world, freedom and responsibility.
The final resonances of the memorial were deepened by a eulogy from Professor Song Sang-hyun, an honorary professor at Seoul National University and Goha's grandson. He reflected on Goha's life not just as a family memory but as a legacy of commitment to independence and the establishment of a free democratic state. He emphasized the importance of passing on the values of freedom, democracy, and national dignity that Goha cherished to future generations. This was a time to reaffirm the spirit of independence and the essence of journalism.
The heavy footsteps of attendees leaving the Memorial Hall reflected this sentiment. That day, we were not merely commemorating one journalist; we were questioning the essence of journalism itself.
Who was Goha Song Jin-woo? He was born in 1890 in Damyang, Jeollanam-do. His family lineage is from Sinpyeong, and his pen name is Goha. From a young age, he studied Confucian classics and learned about the sorrows of a nation in despair under the guidance of independence activist Ki Sam-yeon. After encountering modern studies, he traveled to Japan and graduated from Meiji University with a degree in law.
During his time in Japan, he formed a deep bond with Inchon (仁村) Kim Seong-su. Their relationship transcended mere academic camaraderie; it was a friendship akin to the legendary bond between Guan Zhong and Bao Shuya from ancient China. Like them, Goha and Inchon understood each other's intentions and acknowledged their roles as they walked the path of national education and journalism together.
While Inchon laid the foundation for national education and journalism through capital and organization, Goha supported this path with intellect, logic, and writing. Though they had different roles, their goal was unified: to preserve the national spirit of colonial Korea.
After returning to Korea, Goha became the vice principal and later the principal of Jungang School. At that time, Jungang School was not merely an educational institution; it was a cradle of national consciousness and a space where the spirit of the March 1st Movement flourished.
Goha discussed strategies for independence with figures such as Kim Seong-su, Hyeon Sang-yun, Choi Rin, and Choi Nam-seon. Following the March 1st Movement in 1919, he was arrested and imprisoned in Seodaemun Prison. Although he was acquitted in court, he endured nearly a year and a half of imprisonment.
However, prison could not break his convictions. In 1921, Goha became the third president of the Dong-A Ilbo. He later served as president, advisor, and chief editor, intertwining his fate with that of the newspaper. For him, the newspaper was not merely a business; it was the voice, ears, and breath of the nation.
Thus, he endeavored to uphold the newspaper's role as a public instrument even amid Japanese oppression. The Dong-A Ilbo launched the Movement for the Promotion of Local Products, advocated for the establishment of a national university, and took the lead in the BnaRod Movement to eradicate illiteracy. Goha believed that journalism should not just convey events but also cultivate the survival capacity of the nation.
The newspaper had to be the eye of the times, the voice of the weak, and the conscience of the nation. In 1936, when marathon runner Sohn Ki-jung won a gold medal at the Berlin Olympics, the Dong-A Ilbo published a photo of him with the Japanese flag removed from his chest. This incident, known as the 'removal of the Japanese flag incident,' was not merely an editorial act; it was a journalistic resistance to preserve the dignity of a nation in despair. As a result of this incident, the Dong-A Ilbo faced a suspension and Goha was forced to resign under pressure from the colonial government. However, he did not succumb; he merely stepped down.
The Japanese authorities pressured him to cooperate with them, urging him to participate in Shinto rituals and recruit students for military service. Yet, Goha ultimately refused. He protested, stating, "The Dong-A Ilbo is my voice, my ears, my breath, my hands and feet. How can someone whose entire being has been severed act?" He believed that demanding cooperation while silencing the voice of journalism was akin to selling the nation's conscience, which he could not accept.
After liberation, Goha faced another historical challenge. While liberation brought joy, it also ushered in chaos. The ideological divide was severe, and the shadows of U.S. and Soviet military administrations loomed over the Korean Peninsula. Goha organized the Preparatory Committee for the National Assembly and served as the chief secretary of the Korean Democratic Party, seeking a path toward a free democratic state. However, the joy of liberation was short-lived.
On the morning of December 30, 1945, he was shot at his home in Wonsa-dong, Seoul, ending his life at the age of 55. Goha's death was a personal tragedy, but it also marked a tragedy in modern Korean history. Yet, his life is not merely remembered as a tragedy.
He exemplified what journalism should be. He did not bow before power, did not retreat before his nation, and did not remain silent in the face of the times. His journalism was not a commercial skill but a public conscience.
Today, Korean journalism must once again ask itself in the shadow of Goha. For whom do we write? Do we write for clicks or for truth? For factions or for the community? In the age of artificial intelligence (AI), journalism has gained unprecedented speed and efficiency. AI can quickly generate articles, and algorithms can finely analyze reader preferences.
However, no matter how advanced technology becomes, the essence of journalism remains unchanged: to verify facts, monitor power, protect the vulnerable, and illuminate the direction of the community. AI may be able to write articles, but it cannot replace the conscience of journalism. Algorithms can analyze interests but cannot judge justice.
Thus, the spirit of Goha is even more urgent in the age of AI. It is about balancing freedom and responsibility, nation and world, fact and conscience, journalism and public service. Honoring the name of Goha Song Jin-woo is not merely about reminiscing about the past; it is about reaffirming the position that today's journalism must occupy.
The spirit of friendship that preserved national education and journalism alongside Inchon Kim Seong-su, and the essence of journalism that upheld its public duty even amid Japanese oppression, are more crucial than ever in our society today.
Goha has departed, but the questions he left behind remain unresolved. Whose side should journalism be on? The answer is clear: journalism should not side with power, capital, or factions. Journalism must stand on the side of truth. This is the path that Goha Song Jin-woo has left behind, and it is the path that today's Korean journalism must walk again.
* This article has been translated by AI.
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