WALL Christmas tree and wooden arcade covered with biblical quotes, the entrance to the Church of Love in the Gangnam district of Seoul could be confused with that of a chic shopping center. An air bridge connects the two buildings of the mega-church, which occupy a huge block. Inside, the corridors are lined with polished stone and the walls are decorated with abstract art and neon signs in the shape of a heart. A cavernous underground prayer hall can accommodate 9,000 people. On Sundays, it is packed.
Just around the corner is the Supreme Court of South Korea, which claims that the church has no legal rights over much of this space. He ruled last month that the government of the Seocho district, where the church is located, had abused its power by renting land to allow the church to expand its underground footprint. The then district chief of Seocho, who is now a national legislator, said that he had been pressured by senior politicians to grant the lease. It was approved in 2010 when the president was Lee Myung-bak, a Protestant who has displayed his religion (he is currently in prison for unrelated bribery). The Church of Love may have to spend tens of millions of dollars to demolish the prayer hall. Or, as many observers think, he can find a way to avoid this.
The favor enjoyed by the church during Mr. Lee’s presidency, which ended in 2013, was a sign of the enormous influence of evangelical Protestantism in South Korea. Churches like Gangnam’s serve as places where people make useful connections, whether to find a spouse, get a job, or climb the political ladder. Many politicians emphasize the importance of their faith. Mr. Lee promised to dedicate Seoul to God when he was elected mayor. In the 1990s, one of his predecessors, Kim Young-sam, installed a chapel in the presidential palace and welcomed a stream of pastors. Hwang Kyo-ahn, leader of the main South Korean opposition party, was Prime Minister from 2015 to 2017. He called this work a gift from God.
The role of Protestant churches is surprising in a country that is not very religious by world standards. More than half of South Koreans say they have no religion. But among the South Koreans who say so, almost half are Evangelical Protestants. The country has more Protestant organizations, around 55,000 of them, than convenience stores. Of the 100 largest churches in the world, 20 are in South Korea, including the largest Yeouido Full Gospel Church in Seoul, which has 800,000 members. About 10 million Protestants now live in South Korea, far more than Catholics or Buddhists. Their number continues to grow.
The support of the pastor of a large church can decide elections. The current president, Moon Jae-in, is a Catholic who is less sensitive to the requests of the evangelicals than others at the Blue House. But conservative churches remain powerful. They organize large demonstrations that can successfully block events such as gay rights rallies that go against their beliefs. Recently, hundreds of thousands of believers (some are illustrated) took to the streets every week to demand that Mr. Moon step down. They accuse him of “doing the devil’s work” and selling the country to North Korea in an attempt to improve relations with him. They pride themselves on ensuring the fall of the Minister of Justice of Mr. Moon, who resigned last month following a corruption scandal.
Protestantism arrived in Korea in the 19th century with American missionaries, but its political influence dates from the time of the domination of strong men. Rhee Syng-man, the country’s first dictator at the time, who was president from 1948 to 1960, was a staunch Protestant who made Christmas a national holiday. “What mattered was growth, and evangelical pastors told their congregations that the state’s approach to seeking wealth was holy,” says Kim Duk-young of the University of Kassel. in Germany. By linking North Korean communism to the devil, church leaders appealed to Protestant landowners who had been driven from their homes by northern forces during the Korean War and had sought refuge in the South. Park Chung-hee, who was president during South Korea’s rapid economic boom in the 1960s and 1970s, was a Buddhist. But he encouraged the growth of Protestant churches.
Anti-Moon protesters are proud of their faith’s historic ties to the political elite. They carry banners with the names and faces of Mr. Rhee and Mr. Park. They also salute the chief who they believe will save the country, a right-wing pastor named Jun Kwang-hoon who called Mr. Moon “worse than Hitler” for trying to befriend North Korea. . Critics of Mr. Jun call him “panty shepherd” because he told female church members that they would become children of God if they took off their underwear for him (Mr. Jun says his remarks were taken out of context). His disciples shrug. “Moon Jae-in is a communist and he does the devil’s work,” said an elderly protester. “It’s a spiritual fight.”
It is unlikely to succeed. Protesters have not provided convincing evidence to assert that Mr. Moon’s North Korean policy amounts to treason. They also did not strike a chord with other South Koreans, especially not young people.
Some Protestants point out that neither the protesters nor the glittering mega-churches represent their faith. They hate the Conservatives’ past ties to dictators. “It is wrong to spend all this money in fanciful churches,” says Jung Byung-o of the Christian Ethics Movement, a Protestant group. Kim Yong-min, who runs a small church in a basement in Seoul, says his organization is trying to keep right-wing Christians out of politics. The small space also serves as a studio for a political talk show and is full of leftist literature. He says that most of his congregation supports Mr. Moon. ■
This article appeared in the Asia section of the print edition under the title “An Unholy Alliance”
