That hideous strength.
By trevino Posted in User Blogs — Comments (23) / Email this page » / Leave a comment »
He was a large man, taller than my six feet. He wore blue jeans and a yellow muscle shirt. And well he should, for he had muscles: his physique was defined and rippling; not that of a bodybuilder, but that of a fighter, a tough man, a man weathered and made lean by years of strenuous exertion. His face betrayed his handsome form. His eyes were too far apart, and they bulged out of their sockets, seemingly held in by the unnaturally large eyelids that yawned forth from the sockets to grip the bloodshot spheres in place. His mouth was too small and too low. His forehead was too high. His hair was black, high, and tight. He was ugly as only the physically powerful are ugly.
She was a small woman, shorter than me by at least a head, and waifish thin. She looked about a foot across at her shoulders, and maybe six inches deep. She had the figure of a rail, topped by huge eyes surrounded by disheveled dark hair that came down just past her chin. Her mouth was thin, and wide, and her wrists were like twigs. She was beautiful as a prey animal is beautiful.
He had her in a headlock, was twisting her arm, and she was shrieking in pain.
We watched from across the four-lane street, Julia and I. She was my local point of contact in Seoul, and we had been to a Doosan Bears baseball game, Dongdaemun market, and Namsan Tower. Now we were at a taxi stop, it was late, and dark, and chilly, and remote, and directly across the street from us at the deserted gas station, an appalling scene emerged. We paid no attention when they drove up and parked. We paid no attention when they got out of their car. We paid no attention when they raised their voices. We paid no attention at the first shriek, nor the second, nor the third, until Julia said, "My God," and I finally focused upon what was happening fifty feet away.
He had her backed against a retaining wall, and was shouting at her in Korean. She kept trying to flee, dodging left, dodging right, only to meet his powerful arms knocking her back, pinning her tight, and now squeezing her painfully. Her cries carried through the chill night, and even from the distance, I could see her face, sodden with tears, contorted with hurt and fear.
I had been playing with Julia's cell phone, a pink brushed-metal delight of Korean technophilia. I handed it back to her. "Call the police," I said, and she did, engaging in an animated conversation in Korean with the dispatcher on the line. I stood and watched and wondered what to do. Passers-by came in a trickle: none deigned to notice, even as the woman cried out. I wondered: crying out for what? For help? Insults? The presence of fellow citizens obviously did not deter the man. The cruel game of cat and mouse continued: she twisted, pulled, and darted about; he batted her back, kept her in place, and laid upon her his crushing grip. "If he starts to hit her, I'll go over there," I announced to no one. It was dishonest: what qualitative difference was there between a blow in anger and physical entrapment; between a slap and a painful pinning? I was reluctant to take the strong man on, and at that moment, my sense of self-preservation soundly defeated my sense of honor and its attendant duty. And then he hit her.
It was hardly the blow he was capable of: a mild slap to the side of her head, more a gesture of annoyance than an effort to harm. She moaned, not in pain, but in despair. I looked at Julia: she was rapt upon the scene. I walked across the street and up to the unhappy couple. I crossed my arms and stood there, mere feet away, turned mostly toward the street. The man looked me over, and I kept watch through peripheral vision: I had no chance against him, and I was fully prepared to run, or if flight failed, to fight dirty as soon as it came to blows. Eyes and groin and throat. I was not going to win, but he should, at the least, know that he had been in a fight.
I looked across the street at Julia, who seemed alarmed at this turn of events. She was on her cellphone again, urging the police onward. The ugly man stopped eyeing me and refocused upon his whimpering prey. He lowered his voice and began lecturing her as she wept and moaned. This would do, I thought: he is unsure of me, and that is enough to keep things at a tolerable level until the police arrive.
The ugly man did not wish to wait for the police to arrive. I saw movement from the corner of my eye, and I turned to see him dragging the girl toward the open door of his car. Her cries abruptly increased, and she set her hands against the doorframe. He grabbed the back of her head and forced her skull downward, contorting her neck in an appalling fashion; his other hand was between her shoulder blades, shoving her into the automobile. He was going to escape and finish the job elsewhere. I rushed forward to interpose myself, thought better of it, and began banging on the car. "Hey! Hey! You can't do that!"
The ugly man turned. I stood up straight. "Everything is okay," I said, "Ahnyoasayo. Everything is okay." Nonsense phrases to calm the beast. But the beast was not as he appeared. His fierce visage relaxed, and his bulging eyes widened. "No," he said, "No. Okay. No problem." He gestured toward the girl, still braced against the car. "She is mine. No problem. She is mine." Pidgin English versus pidgin Korean. "Kamsamnida," I replied. Thank you. Having thus exhausted my entire Korean vocabulary, I searched for more conciliatory gestures. "Okay," I said, "okay." "Okay," he repeated, "she is mine." He gave a half-smile and held up his hands. She looked at me with the black eyes of a doomed doe. I stepped back and crossed my arms. The ugly man turned and began lecturing the girl again, but he did not resume the attempt to force her into the car. A wave of relief washed over me. The ugly man's stomach for violence only encompassed -- for now -- those upon whom he could visit it with impunity.
Within a minute, a police car arrived. Instead of coming directly to us, it drove about aimlessly in the parking lot, wandering as if uncomprehending: where was the scene of violence that was reported? I yelled at Julia to cross the four lanes to help me coax the squad car over. She hurried over, and shortly the car pulled up alongside me and the now stone-still couple. Inside was an old cop and a young cop, both in smart black pants, crisp blue shirts, silver reflector harnesses, and bareheaded. The former was short and balding and had the comical aspect of an east Asian comedic straight man; the latter was tall and vigorous and looked every inch a cleanshaven keeper of the peace. It was the latter who leaned out the window and asked what the problem was. Julia responded in rapid-fire Korean, gesturing toward the couple ten feet away, both of whom were staring at us and listening intently. The young cop grunted, and the old cop said something to him.
The ugly man abruptly released his prey, dashed to the driver's side of his vehicle and hopped in. He shut the door. The woman took a few aimless steps away from the door she had recently been forced into, looking about in an apparent daze. Both cops emerged from the squad car and strode to the rolled-down window in which the ugly man's face was visible. Julia and I stood silently as the cops engaged in a brief conversation with the ugly man; and we watched as they, without moving from that man's side, shone their flashlights on the wide-eyed woman and asked her some questions. The young cop came over to us and said something to Julia. "He says she says she wasn't being hurt," said Julia. The old cop yelled a question in our direction. "He wants to know if we saw her being hit," she said. "Tell him yes," I said. "Neh," replied Julia. Yes. The ugly man yelled a single word out his car window. "Bullshit, he says," said Julia.
The young cop asked Julia a question. "What kind of hitting was it?" she translated. I mimicked the man's actions on Julia as best I could: "He had her pinned like this -- and hit her like this." The young cop snorted, and his meaning was clear enough: that's not beating your woman. "Tell him she was screaming in pain," I urged Julia. She and the young cop went back and forth for a moment. She turned to me: "He keeps saying she says she's fine, and there's nothing they can do." Out of ideas, I spoke directly to the young cop: "You can't question her in earshot of the guy. You need to get her away from him." He looked at me in incomprehension and shrugged. I looked over at the couple's car. The ugly man was staring directly at me, his bulging eyes flaming with hatred. The woman, contrary to the cop's protestations and her own, clearly not fine in the slightest, had wandered in front of the vehicle, her slender silhouette illuminated by the headlights.
The old cop walked over, his cartoonish face a mask of annoyance. He ignored me, jabbing a stubby finger at Julia and lecturing her. She protested to him, and they went back and forth in rising tones. "What's going on?" I asked. Julia continued to stare at the old cop, who continued to speak, and answered: "He wants to know why we're wasting his time. He says they can't do anything, and we should mind our own business. We're the ones with the problem. The girl says she's fine." The old cop looked at me, spoke, and vigorously slapped his chest. "He asks what you want him to do," said Julia.
"Julia," I said slowly, "Ask the girl directly if she wants a cab. We'll pay for her to go anywhere in Seoul. Ask her." Julia looked past the cop and shouted toward the girl, who looked surprised and embarrassed to be addressed. I glanced toward the ugly man, still ensconced in his car, still glaring at me. The girl walked toward us with a trembling smile on her tear-stained face. She bowed slightly and replied in a tiny, tremulous voice. "She doesn't need a cab," said Julia, "She says she's fine. They were just having an argument." The old cop gestured toward the girl, looked at me, and said something in Korean that needed no translation: See, this is not our problem. "That's pretty goddamned pathetic," I said to the old cop. I urged Julia to emphasize to the girl that we would give her money. "She does not want a cab, Josh," she replied, and I knew we were done.
The old cop said something, and Julia translated, "He wants us to move along." I walked past the cop, to the girl, and held out my hand. She took it, and I pressed her tiny hand in mine. She looked at me, then at the ground, and her lower lip began to tremble. I let go and turned around to walk away. Julia walked to the taxi stand. The cops walked to their car. The girl walked toward the ugly man who sat silent with a beckoning glower, and toward an evening the horrors of which we had witnessed were now, thanks to our intervention, mere prelude.
I assume this is a story about you.
Take this from somebody who has been in a number of fights in his life, including ones that were set off by similar situations you were in. First, size isn't nearly as important as experience. If somebody isn't used to a round, they will either get stunned by the weakest connection or they will back out before it escalates to blows, regardless of how big they are. Second, some fights you might not think you are going to come out of in great shape, but they are still worth fighting anyways. I'd say this qualifies as one. I actually take a lot of pride in punishing people like him, even if I come out bloodied too.
And this story is just another reason for me to continue hating cops. I've never met a cop that didn't deserve my contempt. I'm sure they are out there, but they seem to be a tiny minority. I've had problems with them from simple things like having warehouse parties shut down to being on the wrong side of arguments with campus police after I had somebody try to mug me (real police, not just rent-a-cops) to having them storm into my apartment and pin me down on a mistake. I've even been on the wrong side of a very nice Oakland PD group beat down. It seems my disdain should apply internationally as well. It takes a special kind of person to want to be a cop and control everybody else's life, and that isn't a good kind of special. (Actually, I do remember one officer I met while she was on duty who I liked.)
What you did there was extremely dangerous. This may not make sense, but it is a fact, and it is something that is taught to police and others who might have to intervene in domestic disputes:
It will often happen in these cases that a third party who intervenes in one of these things will be perceived by both parties as a common enemy interfering in their 'relationship.' The woman you think you are saving will turn to her assailant and say, "Who is this jerk? Kick his butt for me."
No matter how shining a knight you think you are, you do not know how deep or how strong the relationship between the two people is. There are some really dysfunctional relationships out there, and if you try to get in the middle of them, you're the one who gets hosed.
Free advice: Never attempt this alone.
....I do object to the idea that I consider myself a "shining knight" here.
That being said, I certainly was unaware of the phenomenon you describe. Very disturbing.
My brother was a police officer and has told me the only instance he encountered in which he thought he was going to have to kill someone was when he and his partner intervened in a domestic dispute.
As they were cuffing the husband the wife jumped them which led the husband to jump them also.
A lot of abuse is never reported by the victim because, you know, they just had a disagreement, and a little too much to drink, and it won't happen again. And certainly there are some f-ed up relationships out there, and as you say it's good to be aware of what you might be getting into.
Doesn't make it right to ignore it. Even if you happen to be alone when you see it.
You don't have the option of walking away... or at least I don't.
Josh, am I wrong in assuming the impetus for posting this story -- which I laud you for what you did do, even if, as other commenters have noted, it may not have been the wisest thing -- was the news item that South Koreans have cloned embryos for stem cells? The title seems to betray that also, referencing Lewis' classic about bioethics and designer people...
My sense is you're suggesting that acceptance of evils such as cloning and embryonic stem cell research are almost inevitable in a culture where the sort of brutality you witnessed is "no big deal." That the heart of an American was moved to do something, even in a foreign country, to right the injustice being done that poor, broken-down, woman is, I believe, a tribute to all Americans. And it is part of the reason the pro-life movement thrives in this country moreso than other countries.
*Warning* potentially offensive content to follow...
There is a coarseness in the person, a lack of love, something deeply disordered in the basic fabric of someone who thinks it okay to clone embryos just to destroy them, no matter the ostensible end-goal. Same goes for those who support abortion -- the intentional destruction of life for no good reason. And that coarseness which does not respect or love unborn babies even at their earliest stages of existence is fundamentally the same as the coarseness which leads to violence like that you described above, and to those who refuse to do something about it because "it's not that bad."
So, I take your implication in posting this at this time, with that title, to be a "what else should we expect from a culture that endemically doesn't protect life and the dignity of every person?"
I suppose, on the flip side, a culture that allows abortion and embryonic stem cell research will come to disregard the dignity of extra-utero people as well. It's a two-way street: disrespect for people is disrespect for people, no matter how many cells they have. If unchecked by proper morality and true love for fellow man, one will lead to the other.
God, this is offensive:
"what else should we expect from a culture that endemically doesn't protect life and the dignity of every person?"
I'm not much of a poster and I don't want to waste much time on this crap but you've hit a nerve. How can you be so judgmental? Does this offend me? (John 6:61) Yes, and it makes me sick. While you have your Bible handy, why don't you go back and read Luke 18.9-14 or Matthew 18.1-5.
I'm assuming you've spent less time in South Korea than I.
Anyway, I'm sorry for Mr Trevino's negative experience. One of my best friends, a very sweet and naive girl, was raped by a US soldier in Korea while she was trying to help him find a cab home. Should I make sweeping judgments about US culture? "Well we should expect such a thing from a country that goes to war for oil." ? No, that's an ignorant statement. And so is yours.
And I'm not saying you can or should ignore it. Trevino, you're a brave man, and an honorable one.
But -- it's interesting that even attempting to intervene in fistfights between two men who are otherwise fairly equal in physical strength and not, presumably, amorously involved --- this kind of mutual hostility toward the interlocutor can occur. If you want to break up a fight, a good rule of thumb is to have twice as many people breaking it up as are participating in it. If it's two guys, you need four men, all else being equal. Sometimes you need to physically subdue both parties by force of numbers.
That was one heck of a situation, Trevino. I think you handled it about as well as anyone could reasonably expect.
Your Army guy rapist is a complete non-issue. He would be punished for raping a girl, and I assume he was. The Koreans who cloned stem cells will not be punished, nor was the ugly guy who beat on the girl, nor are abortionists. My point is not that people within Korean culture do heinous things while Americans do not, my point is the cultural response to those heinous actions, and a belief that American culture has less tolerance for such heinous actions
Note that in my comment I was trying to figure why Trevino would post that story which doesn't seem to have any relevance to anything political. I noticed the title, recalled the material of the book by the same name, paid attention to the news of the day and voila! had a thesis. Could i have been wrong about Trevino's point-of-departure? Sure. But that's my stab at it. I didn't conjure those thoughts out of thin air, I'm not the "large, ugly man" who was abusing a smaller woman, I'm not the Korean passers-by who ignored it, I'm not the police officers who got upset at the whistle-blower for being called out on something "so minor," and i'm not the one who chose to insert himself into the situation to try to affect some good.
But I do see all of those factors, and they come together somehow.
Now, I also don't pretend that American culture is perfect. Superior? In some ways, I'd say yes. If that makes me judgmental, guilty as charged.
But I did indict American culture in my response to my own original comment. I stand by my belief that a culture that okays abortion and/or the destruction of embryos to harvest stem cells has serious problems that, if unchecked by true morality and love, will devolve that culture and kill it. And on that score, America is guilty. Perhaps the Army rapist guy thought there was no problem impregnating that girl -- your friend -- because "she could just have an abortion." How convenient.
The summary of my comments is this: the problem is not what is done in a given culture, the problem is what is acceptable in a given culture. Evil happens everywhere, does the culture yawn and walk on by or does it punish the perp? The cultural problem was not that the man was abusing the woman, but that others ignored it. The cultural commentary isn't that the Army guy raped your friend, it's that he would be punished for it by the culture.
Embryonic stem cell research, like abortion, is a sign of a culture with problems. A culture that does both (or starves to someone death "legally") has issues. If there is no public outcry against such tributes to Moloch, the culture is in trouble.
Slightly off topic, but I'm interested in your opinion on something; Let's say theoretically the Korean researchers come up with a way to cure cancer through this research (Not saying it's likely, insert any other Kerry/Edwards miracle the point remains the same).
Is it morally allowable to use the new technology/procedure/whatever to save lives?
What you're asking is if it is morally acceptable to hedge a possibility of a future good, against a certain present evil.
The answer is no.
Embryonic stem cell research does not have any absolute promise of future cures. Your question even betrays this point: "Let's say theoretically the Korean researchers come up with a way to cure cancer through this research" In other words, it is assumed that at least one embryo will have to be destroyed before any life-saving therapies can emerge -- but there's not even a certainty of any emerging. So life will definitely be destroyed, in the hope (but not certainty) that good will come. (To deviate off topic a slight bit more... Adult stem cell research -- in which no human life is destroyed -- has as much promise, if not more.)
For sake of argument, I'll anticipate your follow up: If there was an absolute certainty that lives would be saved by destruction of a human embryo, I still do not see how it is ethical because that is a determination by man about which life is "worth living" or "more valuable" -- the person with cancer or the embryo. Every life is intrinsically valuable and belongs to the individual in possession of it, not to scientists or the government or even the child's biological parents.* As such, that person's right to life cannot be revoked for no good reason, and as long as the individual is innocent -- as in the case of embryos -- the only "good reason" I can imagine is in the case of a pregnancy that will kill the mother if carried to term. But the principle there, it seems to me, is akin to that of killing in self-defense, which is always permissible when life is gravely threatened.
*life, ultimately, belongs to God, but each person is in possession of the life on loan from God; we each are the steward of the life God has given us.
....I have to say that no such idea was in my mind when I wrote this.
While I do think that the status of women is a good indicator of a culture's social pathologies, I haven't seen enough of Korean society to draw any conclusions. People are telling me that what happened with the cops specifically is indicative of Korean social mores, but I couldn't say.
Well, thank you for responding.
"My point is not that people within Korean culture do heinous things while Americans do not, my point is the cultural response to those heinous actions, and a belief that American culture has less tolerance for such heinous actions"
Ok. Within certain contexts, I'm sure arguments can be made. Tolerance for the type of abuse Mr. Trevino witnessed can certainly be one. So can stem-cells. Be careful about condemning a culture though. I reread your first post and frankly I still find it insulting and arrogant.
For what it's worth, Seoul is a very, very safe city to live in. And, imho, Korea has a certain kind of charm and innocence that I have come to endear. That's all.
"And on that score, America is guilty. Perhaps the Army rapist guy thought there was no problem impregnating that girl -- your friend -- because "she could just have an abortion." How convenient."
Hmmm, I don't follow this. I don't think I want to be able to either.
Good luck with everything. May the Lord's kingdom return.
if i came off as condemning a culture... heaven knows I'm in no position to do that. I have a tendency to write things that contain my basic thoughts but unrefined. I stand by what I wrote, but could have stated it better, with more due consideration.
I apologize too for my first response. It wasn't very graceful. Take care,
was the motive for relating that story? Did it happen recently and you felt compelled to relate it today, and the title happened to fit literally, without consideration for the content of the book? Even at that, why post it at Redstate? It's hardly a political statement, etc..
Just curious why you felt compelled to write that here...
It happened the same evening I posted it. The book's title referred to the power of Satan in the world, and I thought it fit. As for posting it as RS, perhaps you're right: I should have reconsidered that.
Sounds like it came from someone who's been to a police academy. ;)
that knowing someone else cared will give the woman courage to seek help later. You did the right thing, when too many take the easy way out and say it's none of their business and walk away. Not every story has a happy ending, but ignoring such acts isn't just.