The name Dolbegae is a familiar one to us Japanese publishers, along with Hangilsa and Changbi. For example, books published by Dolbegae are often cited in the works of Japanese scholars like the historian Wada Haruki. I understand that dolbegae means "pillow of stone." How did your company come to choose that for a name?

There is a very important figure in recent Korean history, Chang Chun-Ha, who was a leader of the democratic movement during the Park Chung-Hee regime. He died in the mountains under mysterious circumstances in 1975. During the Second World War he was drafted as a student soldier by the Japanese colonial government. But Chang was a devout Christian and he resolved to flee if sent into battle. He told his family, "If the word dolbegae appears in a letter from me, that will be my final letter." Then he was shipped off to the front. "Pillow of stone" is a reference from the Old Testament of the Bible; to Christians it symbolizes keeping one's faith in the face of adversity. Chang eventually deserted and joined Kim Gu's Kwang Bok (Independence) Army. Meanwhile Park Chung-Hee belonged to Japan's Kwantung Army, which was trying to suppress the Kwang Bok forces. When Park and others like him seized power after Korea's liberation in 1945, Chang felt compelled to oppose them and committed himself to the democratic movement.

In 1971 Chang Chun-Ha published his autobiography and titled it Dolbegae. In October 1972, President Park declared martial law in the name of "peaceful unification of the nation" and promulgated the so-called Yushin ("revitalization" or "reform") Constitution. Chang had his reasons for waiting until 1971 to publicly reveal his past as a deserter from the student corps and a member of the Kwang Bok Army. His disclosure of involvement in the wartime independence movement signaled his intention to pursue a democratic movement against Park Chung-Hee’s machinations to perpetuate his rule. It was a direct attack on the Park regime, which was already making preparations to install the Yushin system. It also demonstrated Chang's conviction that the democratic movement was a natural extension of the anti-Japanese resistance.

Dolbegae Publishers was founded in 1979 by Lee Hae-Chan, who recently served as Prime Minister of South Korea. At the time Lee already owned a publishing house. When he had his publisher's license revoked for publishing a particular book, however, he decided to start a new publishing company under a different name. The government was extremely strict in its allotment of publishers' licenses in those years, but Lee had just read Chang's book Dolbegae and decided to use that as the name of his new company. Thus the circumstances of the company's founding and the name Dolbegae itself reflect the contemporary history of Korea and its democracy movement. The company name symbolizes the nationalistic and democratic thought and action of Chang Chun-Ha.

It's a highly symbolic name for the company, then. And I understand that Dolbegae has chosen to focus on publishing books about the modern and contemporary history of Korea, is that right?

Initially we concentrated on modern and contemporary history, but now we cover the entire breadth of Korean history. We refer to our specialty as Korean Studies. That of course includes literature, philosophy, and intellectual history. The study of Korea is the primary theme of Dolbegae's publications and a defining mission of the company.

Are there other publishing houses in Korea that share Dolbegae's commitment to Korean Studies?

There are several houses that emphasize Korean Studies, or National Studies as they often call it. However, most publish books aimed at readers interested in a specific academic field, such as Korean literature or history. At Dolbegae, we want to publish books in the humanities that cover a whole range of fields -- literature, history, philosophy -- for the general intellectual reader. Our approach to Korean Studies resembles the field often referred to as National Studies insofar as the subject matter is Korea, but the perspective we bring to that subject is completely different. To us, Korean Studies is more precisely what you might call "Korean Humanities." Our objective is to take an active, independent stance in our examination of Korea. Certainly we do not ignore observations and theories from overseas. The challenge we set for ourselves is how to take those perspectives into account even as we seek a new understanding of Korea.

Japan, too, has publishers who adopt a stance similar to yours. One of the challenges such a stance entails is how to build a successful relationship between editors and authors toward that end. If the editors and authors do not share a common theoretical or philosophical perspective, they cannot produce books of the sort you describe. However, it is difficult for editors to propound or achieve a common point of view with their authors because the writers tend to be specialists in particular fields. In that respect, it's much easier to edit academic works on narrowly defined topics.

I agree that it's difficult to get editors and authors on the same page, philosophically speaking, and produce a book in the bargain. The crucial ingredient is trust between editor and author. At Dolbegae we have managed over the years to cultivate and build upon relationships of trust. In the years since its founding in 1979, the company has gone through a profound transition. It began in the early 1990s. Until then, Dolbegae had not set itself up as a publishing enterprise. Though we were generally known as a publisher of books in the social sciences, we ourselves treated publishing not as a cultural activity but as a political one. So we didn't really think of ourselves as publishers. (Laughs) But with the Democratization Declaration of 1987, the dissolution of the military dictatorship and the end of authoritarian government in South Korea, our entire society began moving in the direction of a true democracy. By the early 1990s we began to feel that we should establish a conscious identity for ourselves as a publishing house. This change in our thinking was also accompanied by a change in the type of books we published, as we shifted from an activist political stance to a more cultural orientation.

In the 1980s Korean publishers -- not only Dolbegae -- produced vast numbers of books in the social sciences. It was a veritable golden age of social science publishing, a response to the demands of the times for a political transformation of Korean society and the critical and pragmatic thinking to sustain it. But as society itself changed in the 1990s, interest in the social sciences began to wane, and social science publishers responded in a variety of ways. That is the point at which Dolbegae decided to focus on "Korean Humanities."

I joined Dolbegae in 1983, but I wasn't an ordinary job applicant. I had been asked by a mentor of mine to translate a book, and that person happened to be the editor in chief of Dolbegae. He invited me to work with him there, and that's how I wound up at Dolbegae. But in 1986, I quit. Like many politically passionate young men at the time, I thought I should be active in the labor movement, not in publishing. (Laughs) So I became a labor activist and did organizing work in factories. Three years later, in 1989, I returned to Dolbegae, this time as editor in chief, although the company was actually still run like a collective. Subsequently, however, my colleagues parted ways to go into other careers -- some in politics, some in business -- and in 1993 I became president. That was when I started us on the track of "Korean Humanities."

One reason I was inspired to move in that direction was that I had majored in Korean literature at Seoul National University. At Korean universities, Korean literature is taught as part of the humanities curriculum, not literature. At the time I was mainly interested in the humanities, and in Korean Studies in particular. Also, during my college days I cultivated a network of researchers, and my interactions with them intensified my interest in Korean Studies.

We identify strongly with Dolbegae's philosophy and your own. Japan, too, of course has its own tradition of academic fields that focus on Japan, such as Japanese literature, Japanese history, and Japanese cultural or intellectual history. A crucial issue we face is how to adopt a more critical and comparative stance vis-à-vis Japanese history, literature, culture and so forth in the face of this long academic tradition. This has been, in fact, a matter of great concern to me (Ryusawa) throughout my career as an editor. Over the years I have tried to reflect this concern in my work with younger editors, whether in organizing study groups and seminars, or in publishing books as well as various series, dictionaries and encyclopedias. But compared to Dolbegae, I don't feel that my efforts in this direction at Heibonsha were very successful.

I think that the intellectual environments of Japan and Korea are different, for one thing. Japan has had a modern publishing industry for over 100 years, and the translation and publication of so many Western works has contributed to the country's evolving analysis of its own history and culture. That cumulative analysis is what gives a country the wherewithal to view itself through a comparative, critical lens. Korea has a much shorter publishing history. And what with the colonial period, and the war and domestic strife that followed liberation, there was no time for us to develop self-awareness as a nation. Our present efforts to do just that are not about achieving a relativist perspective based on many decades of self-analysis, but rather involve a dual process. Even as we seek to construct a national consciousness out of what has been a barren intellectual wasteland, historically speaking, we are also trying to make that consciousness more self-critical. This is a tremendous challenge for us. So when we look at Japan, with its verdant intellectual environment of long standing, we are envious!

It may be true that the challenge for Japan has not been as difficult as what you describe in Korea. We have a history of Western studies going back many generations, as well as a comparably long history of Japanese studies influenced by our study of the West. We also have a fairly substantial legacy of Asian studies, particularly of the Far East. But achieving a relativist stance atop this long accumulation of research is another matter. Precisely because of this long, long history of research, it is difficult to develop a critical perspective. All too often, scholars of Japanese studies unconsciously favor Japanese values, while scholars of Western studies just as unconsciously lean toward the West. This makes it particularly problematic to find a mutually relative meeting ground. In such circumstances, how does one develop a critical methodology? That is the question that my fellow editors and I have been asking ourselves.

For our part, we find much to envy when we look at your situation in Korea. You suggested that at Dolbegae, editors and authors enjoy a highly collegial relationship. That is to be admired. Having said that, however, I also believe that collegiality is not the only important aspect of the relationship between authors and their editors or publishers. The latter play a different role from authors, in that editors and publishers must also function as critics for their authors in a sense.

I agree. Even when authors and editors share the same point of view and cordial working relations, there is always some tension due to this element of criticism in the process of making a book together. The editor may have the greatest respect for the author, but he must also stand in the shoes of the reader and do all he can to make a book the best book possible. To find the way to that goal by communicating constructively with the author while maintaining a creative tension -- that, I believe, is the credo of a top-notch editor. A prerequisite for this, of course, is that the editor and his publishing house enjoy the fundamental trust of their authors and readers. Dolbegae places a very high priority on cultivating such trust.

As I mentioned earlier, Dolbegae underwent a period of transition in the early 1990s. The subject matter of our books changed somewhat as a consequence, but we continue to adhere to the publishing philosophy on which the company was founded. As a result our relationship with our authors, as well as our readers, is fundamentally unchanged. I think I can safely say that the trust our long-time readers have placed in us has not wavered. That is the type of publishing house we strive to be. We are quite small, and we don't produce bestsellers. That we have survived on our own terms, despite a very short history as a commercial enterprise, is due, I think, to the fact that we have not betrayed that trust.

At one time, humanities publishers in Japan enjoyed a similarly close relationship with their readers. Misuzu Shobo, which has specialized in publishing translations of Western works, is a prime example of such a publisher, one that was blessed with a readership that displayed an unflagging interest in the house's catalog. But from the early 1990s on, if not before, we saw the relationship between Japanese humanities publishers and their long-time readers begin to deteriorate.

In Korea today we see a proliferation of books with colorful designs but content of dubious value. A book requires editing and a structure -- not only the design -- that serves its content. In other words, it needs an editor's commitment, but that is something one sees less and less of today. It is amid these circumstances that Dolbegae has sought to maintain its own commitment to producing good books. And that is precisely why we have been able to retain the trust of our authors and readers.

On the East Asia Publishers Conference Website we have a feature, Recommended Books, where conference members introduce books published in their respective regions. Our contributors have recommended at least two books by Dolbegae: Uigwe, the Flower of Historical Documentation in the Joseon Dynasty and Lecture: My Way of Reading Chinese Classics.

At Dolbegae we currently have 14 employees besides myself. Of those, six are editors. Right now we are putting a lot of effort into our Discovery of Korean Culture series. There are five volumes so far: White Porcelain, Reflecting the Joseon Mind; Joseon Royal Court Culture: Ceremonial and Daily Life (which is available in English); Hwaseong at Suwon: New Joseon Town Built in the Practical Learning Spirit; The Tomb of King Muryeong: A Treasure-Trove from the Ancient Baekje Kingdom; and Uigwe, the Flower of Historical Documentation in the Joseon Dynasty. The word uigwe means "standards for ceremonies"; these are written records that document Joseon-era court and state rituals with pictures and text. The hardest thing about this series is that the authors often do not provide manuscripts in line with what the editors have in mind. They know how to write academic treatises in their field of expertise, but few of them are accustomed to writing for the general reader. So our editors have to go back and forth with the authors to get the manuscripts close to what we want them to be.

I can't read Hangul, but these books are elegantly designed and I can tell at a glance that they were made with great care. This series is certainly in keeping with Dolbegae's emphasis on Korean Studies, isn't it.

Yes, it is. To be honest, during my first three years at Dolbegae, I didn't have much interest in publishing at all. But when I returned to Dolbegae in 1989 after my labor movement experience, I made a vow to devote my life to being a true publishing professional. I felt that the publishers' movement that had produced social science books in the 1980s now needed to adopt a more professional stance. One of the first things I did was form a group we called "People Who Make Books" which met once a month to discuss all aspects of publishing, including marketing. The group is still going after 15 years. We have about 30 members, mostly in their forties. They include Chang In-Yong of Chiho Publishing House and Han Sung-Bong of East-Asia Publishing Co. The participants in our group each have their own distinctive approaches to publishing, but they are also the movers and shakers of the major publishers' organizations like the Korean Publishers Association and the Korea Publishers Society. So we function as the epicenter of efforts to figure out, not merely how to make and market books, but how to build a publishing culture in Korea.

Just as you say, it is imperative that editors and publishers come together to discuss their profession and the special attributes of books and publishing. The three of us who launched the East Asia Publishers Conference (Kato Keiji, Otsuka Nobukazu, and Ryusawa Takeshi) were unable to do that during our careers as editors in Japan. Our country has a long history of publishing, which has its negative as well as positive aspects, but a major reason for the stagnation we see in the editing profession in Japan today -- as well as a consequence of it -- is that editors have forgotten this history. And it will be extremely difficult to reverse this trend. In a nutshell, there has been a loss of awareness of the profession and tradition of publishing and editing among those who practice it. The publishing profession in Korea may have a shorter history, but in Japan, despite the long history of their profession, publishers have lost a sense of themselves as heirs to that legacy. Awareness of a lack of tradition can motivate one to overcome that lack. But loss of one's tradition leads to a dead end from which it is extremely difficult to extricate oneself. So we have much to learn from our colleagues elsewhere in East Asia.

But publishing in Korea is by no means in a better position than in Japan. We are faced with very trying circumstances ourselves. That is precisely why publishers in Korea are attempting to work together to address the issues that face the entire publishing industry. This is a strategy devised by the new generation of publishers. Their activities represent a new trend in Korean publishing, as exemplified by their enthusiastic participation in the construction of the publishing complex in Paju. But it's a tough road in one aspect especially. At small publishing houses like ours, the president must serve as editor and sales representative, all in one. And unless our businesses are on sound footing, we don't have the wherewithal to engage in collaborative activities of the sort we're discussing. That is a major conflict right there. To resolve it, we are trying to set up an organization, a "Publishing Promotion Committee" or the like, that can obtain government funding to carry out these heretofore volunteer activities. We need to get beyond the volunteer stage and create a public organization that can serve as a leader in the development of Korea's publishing culture. We also need to gather publishing professionals together to devise frameworks and policies for the industry. We are currently working with the government to establish such an organization. That is where I am investing much of my energy these days.