Erigeron canadensis, commonly known as horseweed or Canadian fleabane, is an annual plant native to North and Central America and now widely naturalized elsewhere.WIKIPEDIA
Shin Bok-ryong
The author is a former emeritus professor of history at Konkuk University.
Great powers historically followed a familiar sequence when absorbing weaker states: They seized the telegraph network, the nation’s nervous system; took control of railways, its arteries; then tightened the noose with unwanted loans. Riding the momentum of its victory in the Sino-Japanese War, Japan secured control over the construction of the Gyeongin Line, which was completed and opened in 1899. Korea’s representative in the project at the time was Foreign Minister Lee Wan-yong.
Lee, already wealthy, did not become involved to enrich himself. He did so as a foreign minister, a position that required him to cooperate with Japan.
The process was not merely about transportation. Whoever controlled communications, rail links and finances could erode a smaller country’s ability to act independently, making domination easier before formal annexation occurred. As a result, infrastructure became a symbol of modernization and a tool of power.
But railway construction required sleepers. Although Korea is mountainous, it lacked the giant trees needed for the job. Japan also lacked sufficient timber, so Douglas firs were imported from Oregon in the United States.
Importing raw timber, however, carries hidden risks that remain today as insect larvae and seeds of invasive plants can travel with the logs. Back then, there was little capacity to inspect for pests, but the foreign weeds soon made themselves visible.
Along the tracks, plants nearly a meter (3.3 feet) tall began sprouting white flowers. We now know them as annual plants in the aster family native to North America. But villagers in Gyeonggi, unfamiliar with the species, called them “railroad grass.”
When the railway first opened, Koreans marveled at its novelty and convenience. Over time, however, they came to see the railway as an instrument for extracting grain and learned that Lee had played a role in its construction.
People began calling the flowers “manggukcho,” which literally means “the weed of a ruined nation,” believing that their arrival had coincided with the country’s downfall. The name was later shortened to mangcho and eventually evolved in everyday Korean into the three-syllable mangchotdae.
Countless stories are intertwined with the years in which Korea lost its sovereignty, and even flowers can carry a troubled history.
Today, mangchotdae no longer grows only along railway tracks. It blankets hillsides across the country, and people admire its flowers without much thought.
But this morning, with National Humiliation Day — the Aug. 29 anniversary of Japan’s formal annexation of Korea in 1910 — approaching, the sight of those flowers suddenly fills me with sadness.
This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.
