One of my co-workers received an invitation to an international festival. She already had plans for that Sunday, so she passed the information on to me. I made plans to go. A few days later, when we were at Bupyeong underground mall, two older women saw and made a beeline for me, all smiles. They invited me to the same international festival.
August 19. In the morning I went to the meeting point by the McDonald’s outside of Bupyeong Station to take a free bus to the event. When I arrived, Seokbin, a university student volunteer, took my name and had me stand in line. A couple minutes later he brought a foreigner to stand next to me. We introduced ourselves. He was Lukas, a 19-year-old German metalhead. In Germany young men were expected to either do one year of military service or, for conscientious objectors, one year of voluntary service. Although that system had just recently been discontinued, Lukas had decided to come to Korea to do a year of voluntary service. He was helping out at a community center that organized day programs for disabled people. Cool.
We chatted as buses filled up and the line moved forward. When we finally got on a bus, we were given name tags and asked for our phone numbers. I didn’t have a phone, so they said Lukas and I had to stay together throughout the festival so that if anything happened, I could use his phone. Okay… He seemed cool, so I didn’t mind, but if something were to happen, couldn’t I ask anybody for their phone? I felt like they were treating us like little kids paired up on a field trip. We must take care of the helpless foreigners.
It was organized by Mannam Volunteer Association. The venue was huge and admission was free. Almost all the games and activities were free. The only thing you really had to pay for was food. And even then, we were given ₩3000 worth of food vouchers to use at the food vendors. Lukas wondered where all the money was coming from to fund this. Their literature was heavy on photos and light on print. I wondered what sorts of volunteer activities they did. You know I’m all for volunteerism.
The festival was fun. There were demonstration tents, tables to try out crafts, traditional Korean games, activities for children and adults, a booth where you could try on hanbok. A mini-parade with a brass band that marched through the main area (why were they playing John Philip Souza’s Stars & Stripes Forever, though?). Lukas even got free acupuncture on his bad knee. He and I were not the only foreigners. There were many others from all over, especially southern Asians. Tons of photographers were everywhere and whenever they pointed their cameras at people, instead of the customary peace sign, they raised their hands in the Mannam salute.
Two things struck me as weird. First, everyone at the festival was super-smiley and friendly. This was unusual because Koreans usually don’t smile and chat with people they don’t know. Second, the closing ceremony struck me as churchy. A bunch of people marched onto the amphitheater’s stage waving flags of the world. Then everyone sang a song that sounded like a hymn about happiness and unity. Afterward, several staff members individually asked me if I’d enjoyed myself. They gave me a flyer and said that their next event was a peace festival with sports tournaments, almost like a mini-Olympics and that I mustn’t miss it.
In the following weeks, Seokbin, invited me to several smaller group events: to miniature land, to a beer festival, dancing and to eat pizza. For whatever reasons, I was unable to go to any of them. Actually, I was free for the dancing, but I’d feel a plum fool going to the club with a bunch of kids half my age, so I didn’t. I think Lukas went to one or two events. It wasn’t until much later that I realized that it was a deliberate effort to maintain contact during the weeks between the international festival and the peace festival (after which the invitations dried up).
September 11. Was stopped on the street by two women who wanted to tell me about Mannam. Despite the fact that neither spoke English, they were still trying. I showed them a flyer for the peace festival, and once I let them know that I’m a friend of Seokbin’s they hugged me, smiled and went on their way. I wondered again what motivates older people to have such zeal for Mannam.
September 12. I discovered through BSSK that Mannam had recently suffered a blow to their reputation because it was revealed that their major contributor is a questionable religious group rumored to be a cult. I also read Mannam’s response letter to the allegations. Maybe I won’t go.
I watched a couple YouTube videos about the organization. One by Michael Aronson. More damning evidence against them.
September 15. During our Facebook chat Lukas said that he won’t be going to the peace festival either because he heard about Mannam’s issues. He’s particularly sensitive to this because he lost a close friend to a cult in Germany.
As far as I understand it, Mannam is a group that does all the run-of-the-mill cult things like alienate its members from their families and friends, pressure members to do endless fundraising for the organization, et cetera. Korean members are the most at risk. The reasons why they like to have lots of foreigners at their events (and take tons of photos of and with them) is to lend credibility to the organization.
Later, Mannam changed its name to Shincheonji. Same group, new name.
Check out what Wikipedia has to say: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shincheonji_Church_of_Jesus
Also, check out Michael Aronson's video. It's from 2012, but it's still relevant.
2012
Aronson recently made more videos about Shincheonji when the cult was back in the news in early 2020 because Patient 31, who was responsible with spreading COVID-19 all over Daegu, is a Shincheonji member.
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