Koreans, Africans: Solidarity and Shared Struggles
In January, BAP Atlanta’s Musa Springer participated in an international delegation at the DPRK University in Japan. Subsequently, they were invited to publish an article in the university’s newspaper. The article was published in Japanese; you will find the English version below.
“The total liberation and unification of Africa under an All-African Socialist Government must be the primary objective of all Black revolutionaries throughout the world. It is an objective which, when achieved, will bring about the fulfillment of the aspirations of Africans and people of African descent everywhere. It will at the same time advance the triumph of the international socialist revolution, and the onward progress towards world communism, under which, every society is ordered on the principle of: from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” — Osagyefo Kwame Nkrumah
I am deeply grateful to Korea University and Chongryon for inviting me to return for the 4th annual delegation this January 2025. The meticulously organized trip provided profound insights into the Korean community in Japan. A special mention to the Korea University cafeteria and cooks—the meals were exceptional, and if I could bottle and bring home that gochujang, I certainly would!
Reflecting on the historical bonds between the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK) and the Black Panther Party, a notable instance comes to mind. In 1970, Eldridge and Kathleen Cleaver, prominent Black Panther Party leaders, spent their summer in Pyongyang. The two leaders of the virulent Black liberation struggle in the US were enthralled with the socialist development they witnessed inside the DPRK, especially inspired by the nation's commitment to self-reliance and anti-imperialism. Attending anti-imperialist conferences in Pyongyang and grounding with key Korean revolutionaries, even receiving guerilla training from Korean fighters, the Cleavers’ admiration led to a mutual respect between the two movements.
Kathleen Cleaver, who has continued a long life of revolutionary activism and lawyering to this day, wrote in her unpublished memoir: “The North Korean’s official denunciations of the United States’ imperialists matched the most virulent sentiments Black slaves and their descendants felt, making it easy for Black Panthers to identify with the fervor of their ideological antagonism.”
In honor of this solidarity, and the excellent medical care Kathleen received during her pregnancy in the DPRK, the Cleavers named their daughter Joju Younghi, with "Joju" reflecting the Korean pronunciation of "Juche," altogether meaning “a young heroine born in Juche Korea.”
This history is perhaps unknown among most. However unspoken this history is, it is the stories of deep solidarity such as these that compel me to rekindle such connections— among Koreans and also within Black/African communities back home. Participating in these delegations provides a foundation to pursue this endeavor, and a platform to drive the historical tendency towards ‘solidarity’ as a verb among our communities.
Returning for a second visit this time allowed me to deepen my understanding of the Korean community's struggles in Japan. Building upon relationships established during my previous trip, I engaged more profoundly with professors and students, gaining a closer perspective on their experiences and resilience.
“Do you remember me, I was your translator last time”, one young woman student said to me at the KU campus. “I remember that you are African in America, the same as we are Korean in Japan.” I indeed recognized her, and felt profoundly proud that she remembered this important point from the lecture I gave in the last delegation.
During my stay, I had the privilege of participating in two panels at Korea University. In my discussions, I emphasized that as anti-imperialists, our perspective on Korean-U.S. relations should extend beyond the confines of Asia. It's imperative to consider U.S. imperialist actions not as distinct to any one region, but dynamic, as is the case in Latin America and Africa, where they are rich in the resources that they U.S. uses to fuel global conflicts. While there may be perceptions of shifting U.S. focus offering hope for peace in Korea, which would sincerely open a world of opportunity for my new Korean friends, we must remain vigilant to how Trump has turned toward these other areas, perpetuating long-term unrest and the plunder of resources to rebuild U.S. weapons stocks. As anti-imperialists, we must oppose imperialism in all its forms, recognizing the interconnectedness of these systems regardless of location.
Once again in my remarks I was able to make connections between the motions of Korean Reunification and Pan-Africanism, a guiding objective and revolutionary ideology for my organization, The Black Alliance for Peace. As Koreans seek peaceful reunification of their land, we seek a reunification of Africa; as Koreans wish to repeal colonial borders, we wish to abolish colonial African borders; as Koreans fight to reclaim their names, dances, music, and heritage from the colonizers, so too do we. As Koreans identify fondly with their ‘Fatherland’ at home, encouraging all Koreans to take a similar stance, we, too, identify with our ‘Motherland’ on the continent.
The parallels between the Korean experience in Japan and the African experience in the United States are striking, and they teach us that we are never alone so long as we understand our history and the true meaning of solidarity. I want to repeat myself to emphasize to my Korean comrades in Japan: you are not alone. The struggle you endure — forced name changes, forced labor, suppression of your culture, discrimination — mirrors what my people have endured now for 400. Just as you were compelled to adopt Japanese names, we were stripped of our African names and given Euro-American ones. Just as you were forced to labor in the tunnels under imperial rule, so too were Africans in the U.S. (and we still are).
As we walked in Harajuku with our KU student tour guides, we noticed a man on the sidewalk near the train station. He had many signs written in large, red Japanese, and was shouting quite loudly into a microphone — he resembled the hateful preachermen who I know often in the Southern U.S., where I live.
“What is he talking about, can you translate?” I asked one of the students.
“It is election time,” replied the student. “And he is saying that Koreans are taking all of the tax money, that Koreans are the problem, that we are bad.”
The moment was chilling, because it broke through ‘kawaii’, calm, peaceful appearance Japan prides itself on; the anime, J-pop, cutesy sidewalks suddenly felt like I was back home again, only with a different language. In the U.S. we refer to our position as “within the belly of the beast”, meaning inside the belly of the imperialist beast. For Koreans in Japan, as I wrote last year, they are inside the belly of another beast. Inside of this belly they are the scapegoat for the ills of the body (society), as Africans are the perpetual scapegoats for the ills of the body within the U.S.
Perhaps most importantly is the spirit of resistance that is not only shared between Koreans and Africans, but by people everywhere under the thumb of colonialism and imperialism. I felt this spirit deeply during my time with my new comrades. Just as you have resisted-through guerilla struggle, escaping the forced mines to create maroon communities, and now through the revolutionary education of Chongryon and KU — we, too, ran away from the slave plantations, directly confronted the slave masters with machetes, formed entire communities of maroons, and built freedom schools to preserve our culture.
I don't name these similarities for the sake of sentiment or emotion. Rather, it shows a commonality in our material conditions, and a commonality in our struggle for dignity, self-determination, and ultimately, liberation. With a reunified Korea standing as a beacon of hope for Koreans, it inspires us Africans in the U.S. and elsewhere to fight for Pan-Africanism with as much determination as you all do. The lessons you teach us are invaluable, and the bonds we forge here will only grow stronger in the struggle for global liberation. When I return again next year, we can explore these themes of solidarity more and even deeper.
Forward Ever, Backward Never!