[Cityscapes] Exploring beneath Gwanghwamun's surface

A reconstruction of Baekundong Stream seen in Gwanghwamun is being prepared for removal, March 20. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

By Ron Bandun

A lot of people went nuts a few weeks back, when pictures distributed in the media showed an ancient stream unearthed in downtown Seoul as part of the Gwanghwamun renovation project. Its excavation was cool to me, while also a little banal, on account of how much is hidden beneath the ground we walk on.

As a practicing anarchaeologist, I made several visits to Gwanghwamun to see the ruins for myself as soon as the news broke. Anarchaeology, if it isn't apparent, is the clandestine visitation of archaeological sites, a branch of urban exploration alongside draining or roof-topping. I wasn't the first to coin the term, but I put that definition to it given the need to name an interesting new hobby I was developing. Anarchaeologists don't damage or loot sites ― we just want a closer look before redevelopment destroy them.

Getting around Gwanghwamun during the renovation has been complicated, due to the changes to the roads, the people including police everywhere and the fences that partition off the former traffic island square into at least four sections. Okay, that last one isn't that much of an impediment ― all I've needed was the time-honored anarchaeological technique of waltzing in through open gates.

Inside Gwanghwamun Square during renovation, March 20 / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

The site is still quite porous, with pedestrian paths through and a narrow entrance to reach the Sewol protest site, encased by construction fences and guarded by police, and for a time a signal mannequin directing traffic.

A motionless "signal mannequin" directs traffic in Gwanghwamun, Jan. 9. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

It took me a few tries to find the site that got everyone all excited. My first few visits focused on the middle section, near the King Sejong Statue, where I found what could have been an uncovered stream, or might've just been plain old excavation. Another section I visited late at night, directly in front of Gwanghwamun Gate, had nothing of interest.

Finally, after looking very closely at the press photos, I figured out the stream was in the extreme northwestern corner of the square, almost directly between the Government Complex and the palace. It was not behind the tall construction fences, but just on the other side of crash barriers next to where pedestrians walk, right where anyone could see if only they looked.

Workers place tarps over a recently excavated water channel in Gwanghwamun, March 22. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

Unfortunately for me, by the time I arrived, they were putting a blue tarp over everything, maybe to preserve it for transport or to protect it from rain while they figured out what to do with it.

A recently unearthed water channel in Gwanghwamun is covered with tarps, March 23. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

Finding the stream was underwhelming to me for a few more reasons.

First, the ground in downtown Seoul is known to be crammed with historical relics of varying significance, sometimes referred to as the "Pompeii of Seoul," so the discovery of a stream doesn't add much to the big picture.

Secondly, the streambed seemed to be dry, probably excavated right out of the earth rather than an active part of Jongno District's amazingly complex underground water infrastructure.

Third, the addition of Jungang Underpass in 1971 beneath Gwanghwamun, as well as the 2009 installation of the sizeable underground complex beneath the King Sejong statue, would have disrupted any continuity in the water body's flow as parts of the stream would have been uncovered and discarded in those days.

Fourth, I'm not so sure there was such a water body in the Joseon era days when the area was called Yukjo Geori (Street of Six Ministries), so the water may have been diverted to flow through there at some point ― which would make sense considering the manufactured nature of the stone-lined streambed.

And last, it's also worth noting that these archaeological excavations are mandated in Jongno District as part of the redevelopment process, after it was decided too much had already been lost in previous major construction projects.

An archaeological survey is conducted at the construction site for Centropolis in downtown Seoul, seen June 10, 2015. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

Not to disparage anybody's curiosity though ― if anything, we should be looking at all parts of Seoul's traditional boundaries with as much wonder as that streambed evoked. And we should all be aware of how developers are changing the built environment with its six centuries of human-guided history in central Seoul, and often poorly preserve sites like these.

Many have called for incorporating this stream into the plan for the new Gwanghwamun Square, just like what happened with Igansu Gate behind Dongdaemun Design Plaza, which is what the city really, really should do, but better this time.

But did you know there already was such a feature in the previous version of Gwanghwamun Square? Two, in fact. Running almost the entire length of the rectangular square on both sides, there used to be two shallow chutes carrying flowing water, only a couple centimeters deep, at least during the warmer months. You probably didn't notice them, unless you stepped in and got your shoe wet.

A surface reconstruction of Baekundong Stream in Gwanghwamun is filled with snow in winter, Jan. 9. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

During my anarchaeological expeditions, I witnessed these water channels chopped up unceremoniously and removed. That's right, to reveal this stream hidden beneath concrete, they had to destroy two others ― and nobody cared.

A section of Baekundong Stream is chipped away during Gwanghwamun's ongoing renovation, March 22. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

These two seldom-observed water channels appeared to have been surface representations of two actual streams ― Baekundong Stream and Junghak Stream ― the two main water bodies passing through the vicinity, still coming from mountains in the north down to Cheonggye Stream, and yes, both are still active today, just hidden underground in concrete tunnels. Their original courses didn't pass through this part of Gwanghwamun, but were diverted at some point either in antiquity or just recreated fancifully there for the 21st century.

Baekundong Stream originates from various sources around Seochon, where it flows under Jahamun-no then passes into Saemunanno 5ga gil, the diagonal street behind the Sejong Center. If you examine an area map, its course is apparent.

About 10 years ago, I found a tunnel entrance for one of the stream's tributaries somewhere up on the slope of Mount Inwang, and entered with a couple of friends, hoping to make our way underground all the way down to Cheonggye Stream, where we could emerge from behind the waterfall there. But the tunnel got smaller the deeper we went, until it was killing our backs and we had to turn back, defeated.

Inside Baekundong Stream, one of the existing tributaries of Cheonggye Stream running underground from a mountain / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

Meanwhile, Junghak Stream's course starts from Samcheong Park on the skirt of Mount Bugak, where anyone can find the caged-off tunnel entrance. The stream flows downhill outside Gyeongbok Palace's eastern wall and then underneath Jongno 1-gil.

There is even a meter-wide recreation of the stream flowing along its most authentic course, between Kyobo Building and D Tower, which exists but has never been activated; in the entire time I've been observing it, it's been bone dry. If there were water flowing, it would be quite nice, and its current dimensions are about the right scale for a Gwanghwamun stream reconstruction.

A recreation of Junghak Stream is seen east of D Tower in downtown Seoul, April 21, 2017. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

One friend who'd been making YouTube videos of his explores (a bit too obtrusive a platform for most of this anarchaeologist's adventures) made it into Junghak Stream. I can't show you the video, however, because hours after he posted it, he had to take it down; it turns out the government monitors the area vigilantly and does not tolerate content of this kind. But the agent who contacted him apparently did compliment him on his video.

The ground in Jongno hides many secrets, and more are being discovered every time an archaeological survey is carried out. Yes, probably most are too small for humans to enter, or filled with water or buried under dirt, but there are tunnels where you could stand up safely, and others where you'd need equipment like waders.

We might never know how many have already been buried and filled in. In a 2014 Korea Times article, the city government said it had discovered 41 "underground tunnels" (as if there are other kinds of tunnels), 18 of which were around Jongno 3-ga, and filled in 18 that were deemed hazardous to surface dwellers. Two other tunnels have been declared cultural assets and public tours are offered.

Every time a shovel pierces the ground in Jongno, it hits something historic. If we preserved all these discoveries, there'd be no room left for the living among downtown Seoul's increasing inventory of preserved ruins.

But I'm on board for incorporating the Gwanghwamun stream into the new square design. Imagine if there was a stream flowing through Gwanghwamun, maybe a meter or two wide, where you could dip your toes in or cross over it on little bridges. I hope they build it, not to mark its place or for history, but because it would be nice.

Ron Bandun is a self-described "anarchaeologist."