Death of a Korean Man
Did I cause the death of a Korean worker? I may never know.
This assignment was a shoot for POSCO Steel. One of the largest steel manufacturers in Korea, and in the world. The flight to Korea was uneventful, and the welcome we received upon landing was warm and generous. It was my second of what would eventually become many trips to the country, and Korea was already beginning to feel like a second home. Still, I was learning about class distinctions, cultural expectations, and the unspoken rules of work and hierarchy. This story is about how my misunderstanding of those cultural differences may have contributed to a tragedy.
The day began early, with a hearty breakfast of soup and kimchi. Then came the long drive from Seoul to a steel mill in a remote city called Pohang. We traveled for hours in a cramped van. Everyone but the assistant and me fell asleep. I later learned the wisdom of doing this.
When we finally arrived at the massive steel plant, we began shooting immediately. The place was visually overwhelming. Smoke, sparks, towering machinery. One particular shot needed something more. It featured a distant balcony overlooking plumes of steam rising from water being sprayed on red-hot steel. The balcony looked too empty, too lifeless, so I asked if someone could stand there, gazing down into the billowing heat. They found a worker willing to oblige.
From my vantage point, far back and shooting through a telephoto lens, I had no understanding of the temperature he was enduring. I later learned that the heat from the molten steel and the rising steam soared well above 120 degrees. Yet he stayed exactly where he was told to stand, for exactly as long as he was told to stand there. No complaint. No hesitation. Obedience was simply part of the job.
I continued taking my time shooting, switching lenses, adjusting angles, unaware of what was happening to him. Then, in a terrible instant, the man collapsed, passing out and falling onto the scorching metal grate beneath his feet. Four coworkers rushed in like a hidden team. Scrambling to pull him to safety before carrying him away.
It was then I learned just how brutally hot that platform was, and how deeply ingrained the expectation was that a worker would do whatever he was instructed, without question, regardless of danger. It was a heart wrenching method of cultural education. I suddenly realized that my request carried the weight of another person’s life. The heat, the silence, the way the worker stood there without a word. There was great respect and humanity in his dedication that I did not recognized because I was too intently focused on the imagery.
I like to believe he recovered. Otherwise they would have told me. And I certainly never put someone in that position again. Well, at least not as long. Lesson learned.
We did get some great shots that day though.
