This book brings Kye's findings on late Chosŏn political ideology and Korean-Chinese relations together under one roof for two purposes. Its first is to trace the development among ruling elites of a new view of Korea's place in the world in the aftermath of the King of Chosŏn's submission to the Manchu Emperor in 1637. Second, it seeks to understand how the court in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Chosŏn mobilized this new view in dealing with political realities often more domestic rather than international.
Kye's lens is the Taebodan (Altar of Great Gratitude). Constructed by the Chosŏn court at the sixtieth anniversary of the fall of the Ming dynasty (1704), the altar functioned to enshrine the spirit of the Ming Wanli Emperor (r. 1572–1620) and demonstrate loyalty and filial piety in thanks for “the grace of rebirth” (chaejo chi ŭn) provided by the Ming during the Hideyoshi invasions (1592–98). Kye's eight-part study examines Chosŏn's geopolitical and ideological situation at the start of the eighteenth century, the proposal and construction of the altar, its expansion in form and function during the reigns of Kings Yŏngjo and Chŏngjo in the eighteenth century, its continued use throughout the nineteenth century, and its meaning for the beginning of Korea's modern era—particularly in the context of the discourse over “Getting Away from China” (t'al Chunghwa) and the construction of symbols of imperial power, such as the Temple of Heaven (Hwan'gudan). Here, Kye aims to put these developments in their larger spatial and temporal contexts in order to elucidate the rifts between rhetoric and reality in history and historiography alike.
Drawing upon the Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty and records of the altar's construction and rites, Kye finds that the Taebodan was in practice less a vehicle for offering thanks to the Ming than a tool for organizing ideology in the king's favor and thereby bolstering royal control. At the same time, he asserts, the dominant worldview of late Chosŏn's ruling elite was not one that embraced the realities of the world as they existed, but rather one that looked backward and inward. In this light, the Taebodan is notable not only for its stated purpose—gathering the ministers of one country to express loyalty to another long-since vanished country—but also for its sustained practice over the entire final two centuries of the Chosŏn dynasty.
Kye's study makes a number of important contributions to the historiography of late Chosŏn. First, it offers a critical intervention into existing historical narratives of Chosŏn's eighteenth century. Kye begins with seemingly straightforward questions: does the eighteenth century connect to the nineteenth; did Chosŏn exist on its own or as part of a geopolitical system; is there a basis upon which we can say that new discourses like “Northern Expedition” (pukbŏl) or “Northern Learning” (pukhak) became dominant ones; and if the eighteenth century was indeed a period of new consciousness or progressive government, what does it mean that an altar to the vanished Ming was constructed at the beginning of the century and expanded throughout? These questions, however, prove difficult to address using existing historical models for Chosŏn's eighteenth century. Here, Kye reevaluates the relative importance of contemporary discourses, examining why no alternative discourse became a dominant ideology. He finds a link between the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in terms of dominant “Loyalty to Ming” (tae Myŏng ŭiri) ideology, and considers what this meant to Chosŏn internally and geopolitically. Here, Kye challenges readers to focus on the lived realities of the dynasty's ruling elite and on their comparative situation within East Asia and across the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries rather than on a convoluted logic subsuming them to a narrative of nineteenth-century Korean renaissance or enlightened absolutism. This allows readers to examine the policies of Kings Yŏngjo and Chŏngjo critically, understand the changes in the personal lives and political strategies of early nineteenth-century kings, and gain deeper insight into the rhetorical and political options pursued by King Kojong at the threshold of the modern era.
Second, Kye makes a novel intervention into our understanding of the Greater Korean Empire and the discourse of “Getting Away from China” during the early years of Korea's modern period. He builds on his study of the Taebodan to offer a nuanced perspective on the empire's symbolic projects, asserting, for example, a difference in the logic behind the constructions of the Hwan'gudan and the Independence Gate. He brings to bear the more contentious definitions of “China” considered by Chosŏn intellectuals after the fall of the Ming on the use of the term in the “Getting Away from China” discourse, complicating our understanding of just what was a separation from China and the past, and what was an inheritance.
Finally, Kye's monograph strengthens the teaching and research of premodern Korea. His question-and-answer style offers students of late Chosŏn history a chance to test their assumptions and narratives against basic logic and the historical realities of the period. Moreover, his statistics on Taebodan usage provide useful raw data for further study into Chosŏn-Qing relations and their reflection in court actions.
The book, however, might have benefited from detailed consideration of the mechanisms by which victories in court debates over which Chinese emperors to enshrine—or increased Taebodan observances—translated into real political power for Chosŏn's kings. This would have shed light on just which new concessions of political capital had been made by the ruling elite to the crown, just how these observances of rites became an ideology over which the king could exert control, and just what the relationship between royal interactions with the Taebodan and expansion of royal power was.
Time at a Standstill examines the ruling elite's ideology and relationship with the crown, outlining the development of a particular view of Ming and Qing China among Chosŏn intellectuals and describing the emergence and effects of an identity crisis among Chosŏn's rulers. However, an exact definition of just who constituted this ruling elite is never offered, leading readers to wonder as to whether the object of the expanding royal power Kye posits was not in fact more complex and more contentious than it might seem. This, in turn, makes the first shortcoming detailed above all the more relevant. Without a clear understanding of just who held which view of royal power or Chosŏn's place in the world, it is difficult to determine the mechanisms by which that royal power was expanded, or those views were cemented into a conservative ideology that would eventually threaten the survival of the country itself.
Overall, Time at a Standstill is a fresh, sustained intervention into late Chosŏn that will be of value to students of Sino-Korean studies in particular and premodern and early modern East Asian history in general—intellectual, diplomatic, and political. Kye takes aim at existing narratives of eighteenth-century Korea and finds a more conservative, domestically focused ideology for us to contend with; he too is sure to draw criticism in turn. Yet his monograph highlights both a number of serious problems in our understanding of late Chosŏn history and a novel framework for broadening our consideration of the domestic and geopolitical realities of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Neither should be overlooked.
