Winter 1997. During those bewildering months, as South Korea sought an emergency bailout from the International Monetary Fund amid the Asian financial crisis, I wrote a book about the nation’s first UNESCO World Heritage sites. They included Bulguksa Temple and Seokguram Grotto, the Tripitaka Koreana and its storage halls at Haeinsa Temple, Hwaseong Fortress, Changdeokgung Palace and Jongmyo Shrine.

These five monuments had been inscribed on UNESCO’s World Heritage List in 1995, 23 years after the World Heritage Convention came into effect. For me, a journalist who had long written about Korean culture in English for readers who may know little about Korea, much less its history and traditions, the inscription was momentous. Writing “World Heritage in Korea” was both a privilege and a challenge.

Yet the timing obviously carried a poignant paradox. At a moment of national despair, when many Koreans feared for their future, these priceless cultural treasures were finally recognized for their “outstanding universal value” and placed among humanity’s greatest achievements.

Now, 30 years later, I find it troubling that Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon’s redevelopment plan for the area across from Jongmyo Shrine represents a stark step backward — a glaring case of both historical regression and cultural insensitivity. Responding to the raging public concern about the project’s potential to harm the shrine’s integrity, Oh argued: “We are just slightly raising the height of a building to make the project financially feasible. A simulation has shown that the building will not cast a shadow over Jongmyo.”

But the issue is not whether a shadow falls across the shrine. As the mayor of a 21st-century metropolis, Oh needs a more informed and imaginative perspective on urban redevelopment. Instead of prioritizing profitability for a small circle of landowners and developers, he should focus on how to honor and enhance an exceptional cultural landmark, drawing inspiration from it in ways that benefit all citizens over the long term.

The recent global enthusiasm for Korean culture shows that the country has moved beyond the era of government-driven megaprojects that bulldoze their way through historic urban centers. Rows of gleaming high-rises, punctuated by a broad green belt extending all the way from Jongmyo’s main entrance to Namsan, may appeal to development enthusiasts and promise handsome returns to stakeholders.

High-end residential-commercial towers overlooking the shrine’s 19.4-hectare forested grounds and the scenic mountains beyond will no doubt attract affluent buyers. Yet it is far from clear that the mayor and his advisers have seriously grappled with how to protect Jongmyo’s intrinsic value — or how to harmonize redevelopment with the needs of longtime residents, merchants and small shopkeepers who have shaped the neighborhood’s character.

Jongmyo is described by the World Heritage Center as “the oldest and most authentic of the Confucian royal shrines to have been preserved almost intact.” Its centerpiece, Jeongjeon, the main hall, is the longest single wooden structure in the world, stretching 109 meters with a floor area of 1,270 square meters. Inside, the spirit tablets of 19 kings and 30 queens of the Joseon era (1392-1910) are enshrined in individual chambers along the north wall. Tablets of other monarchs and their spouses are housed in the adjoining Yeongnyeongjeon, the Hall of Eternal Peace.

Yet numbers alone cannot convey Jongmyo’s true significance. Its location, architectural layout and surrounding landscape are steeped in symbolism. Jeongjeon stands as a monumental expression of austere aestheticism, marked by repetition, symmetry and simplicity — qualities rarely found in traditional Korean architecture. Beneath these aesthetics lies a Confucian worldview that emphasizes dynastic legitimacy, the monarchy’s duty to ensure national prosperity and peace, and the moral value of filial piety.

A visitor senses this philosophy most vividly when turning from the hall to face the broad stone platform on which it stands. This two-tiered expanse occupies nearly the entire square courtyard, encircled by stone walls. Here, rituals linking deceased kings with their living descendants were performed — and continue today. The centuries-old ceremonies, featuring refined Confucian rites accompanied by elegant music and dance, remain a living tradition, recognized by UNESCO as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

The ritual arena is paved with rough granite blocks that gleam under daylight. Not a single tree stands within the courtyard, in deliberate contrast to the surrounding lush woods outside. This dramatic juxtaposition creates a heightened sense of solemnity and detachment from the bustling city — a core element of Jongmyo’s architecture and one of the greatest joys of visiting it.

Erecting high-rise towers that pierce the skyline beyond the shrine’s walls would compromise this carefully preserved serenity. Rather than obstructing views and eroding the shrine’s divine atmosphere of transcendence, Mayor Oh should revise his contentious plan to ensure that Jongmyo’s authenticity and integrity remain undisturbed.

As a treasure of humanity, Jongmyo must be safeguarded for future generations. The mayor’s decision will not only determine the fate of one historic site but also set a precedent for how Seoul approaches urban regeneration in the decades to come, hopefully moving forward from its past mistakes.

Lee Kyong-hee

Lee Kyong-hee is a former editor-in-chief of The Korea Herald. The views expressed here are the writer's own. — Ed.


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