Hanja, hangul or both? Why Chinese characters still hang from Gwanghwamun.

A composite image shows how a Hunminjeongeum-style nameboard in hangul, the Korean alphabet, could be added beneath the existing Hanja plaque in Gwanghwamun, made by a civic group campaigning to install a Hunminjeongeum-style nameboard in the Korean alphabet on the main gate of Gyeongbok Palace. [SCREEN CAPTURE]

[EXPLAINER]
 
If you’ve ever stood in front of Gwanghwamun, the main gate of Gyeongbokgung Palace, you’ve likely looked up at the massive wooden nameboard perched high above the crowds.
 
To the untrained eye, it appears as a dignified relic — a slab of calligraphy that crowns one of the most iconic landmarks in Seoul.
 
But to some Koreans, those three characters — "光化門," written in traditional Chinese hanja characters — are currently the center of a high-stakes tug-of-war over national identity.
 
The debate, which has simmered for decades, was recently reignited when Culture Minister Choi Hwi-young, during a Cabinet meeting chaired by President Lee Jae Myung on Jan. 20, proposed a double-decker compromise: keeping the current hanja sign on the top tier while adding a new sign in hangul, the Korean alphabet, beneath it.
 
The Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism has said it will proceed through expert consultations and public hearings before moving on to formal steps. Choi said in a briefing on Feb. 12 that public debate should come first, while also acknowledging that anything touching cultural heritage must follow expert review.
 
As Korea approaches the 100th year since Hangul Day was first marked in October, the government faces a debate on authenticity and how the nation wants to be "read" by the world when it looks at Korea's most televised gate.
 

President Lee Jae Myung speaks about a Gwanghwamun nameboard in hangul, the Korean alphabet, during a Cabinet meeting at the Blue House on Jan. 20. [JOINT PRESS CORPS]

What is the debate about?
 
Hangul, Korea’s phonetic alphabet, was created in 1443 under King Sejong (r. 1418-1450) during the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910) to make reading and writing accessible beyond the elite.
 
But for centuries, Hanja remained dominant in official documents and public inscriptions in Korea.
 
For Lee Dae-ro, 80, director of the Hanmalgeul Association, or Korean Language Association, and a lifelong linguistic activist who has argued for years that Gwanghwamun should carry hangul, the current hanja sign is more than a historical artifact but is a source of "tears" and national "humiliation."
 
“This isn’t something that came up again just for fun,” Lee told the Korea JoongAng Daily.
 
He argued that because a hangul sign hung from the gate in the late 20th century, replacing it with hanja was “wrong,” and the debate keeps returning because some Koreans are trying to “make it right.”
 
Lee repeatedly calls the current hanja nameboard “fake,” even alleging that the government misled the public by describing it as “original-form restoration.”
 
Heritage authorities, however, describe the nameboard as a historically informed replica based on archival sources rather than an original artifact.
 
A civic coalition is set to formally launch on March 1, Korea's Independence Movement Day.
 
The group plans to read a "Declaration of Independence for Hangul Culture," arguing that moving away from hanja signage signals a shift toward a self-reliant national identity.
 

Representatives of the Korean Language Society of Korea and related groups chant slogans during a protest outside the Hangeul Hall in Jongno District, central Seoul, on Jan. 26, 2005, opposing the Cultural Heritage Administration’s plan to replace the Gwanghwamun nameboard with a Chinese-character version. Lee Dae-ro, far right in front, leads the chants. [OH JONG-TAEK]

Was there controversy before?
 
Yes, for more than half a century.
 
Gwanghwamun was first constructed in 1395 and is believed to have been given its name in 1425.
 

Gwanghwamun nameboard controversy [YUN YOUNG]

The original gate and its nameboard, however, were destroyed when Gyeongbok Palace was burned down during the Japanese invasions of the late 16th century, leaving no record of who wrote the original inscription.
 
The Chinese-character nameboard now hanging above Gwanghwamun on Sejong-daero in central Seoul is widely understood to be a modern restoration of an inscription written in 1865 by Im Tae-young, the commander of the royal military training corps, during a major reconstruction of the gate.
 
The gate suffered extensive damage during Japan's 1910-45 colonial rule and the 1950-53 Korean War, and the nameboard was lost in the process.
 

The nameboard for Gwanghwamun in hangul, the Korean alphabet, handwritten by then-President Park Chung Hee in 1968. [JOONGANG ILBO]

 
When Gwanghwamun was rebuilt in 1968, a hangul nameboard handwritten by then-President Park Chung Hee was installed instead.
 
The current nameboard dates to October 2023, when authorities restored a Chinese-character version in gold lettering on a black background, based on historical records. The move corrected an earlier restoration in 2010 that used black characters on a white background, which the authorities acknowledged was incorrect.
 
An official at the Korea Heritage Service told Korea JoongAng Daily that while the proposal remains under review, the initiative is being led by the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism and would require several procedural steps.
 
“We need to assess whether the proposal conflicts with existing preservation plans and conduct a process of public consultation,” the official said.
 

Visitors walk around the entrance of Gyeongbok Palace in Jongno District, central Seoul, on Dec. 28, 2025. [YONHAP]

Is this really about global perception?
 
The Culture Ministry has asserted the dual-sign proposal in part as a way to reduce “cultural misunderstandings among foreigners” and project Korea’s distinct identity through hangul.
 
Jung Un-seok, a Seoul tour guide who goes by the nickname "Oliver," said questions about the Chinese-character plaque do come up on site, though not frequently.
 
In Jung's experience, the sharper “vassal state” narrative tends to surface more in the Chinese-tour market, sometimes amplified by unlicensed guides. In Jung's experience, claims that Joseon-era Korea was fundamentally dependent on imperial China and that landmarks like Gwanghwamun are therefore derivative rather than distinctly Korean are sometimes amplified by guides that have not been licensed by the government.
 
“The problem is the illegal Chinese guides […] they come and say things like, ‘So Korea was a tributary state,’ or ‘They copied the Forbidden City,'" he said, criticizing such claims as "nonsense" due to the Forbidden City's later construction date.
 
However, not all foreign visitors are convinced that adding a hangul nameboard is the right fix. For some, historical authenticity, or keeping a heritage site as close as possible to how it appeared in its historical context, is the bigger priority.
 
Sanoat Dodoboeva, a student from Tajikistan living in Seoul, said she understands Korea's pride but worries about "over-correcting" history.
 
“I love visiting historical sites, and the whole point is keeping the authenticity," she told the Korea JoongAng Daily in front of Gwanghwamun. "Heritage is keeping how it was in that era, not how it is now. Otherwise, it’s not history anymore — it’s just following trends.”
 
Emily Gross, a tourist from France, echoed the sentiment.
 
"I guess it would make sense to change it to hangul for the national identity, but at the same time, you don't want to 'change' history," she said.
 
Concerns about comprehension appear unfounded: In a walk-around of the square on Thursday, the Korea JoongAng Daily found that most public signs are already bilingual, with Korean and English, and tourist information staff circulate to help in multiple languages. If comprehension is the goal, multilingual explanation panels, QR codes and guided tours may achieve more than modifying the gate’s façade.
 

Officials repaint the Gwanghwamun nameboard in Jongno District, central Seoul, on March 29, 2016. [KIM SANG-SEON]

What's next?
 
Even if a hangul board is approved, the real controversy may shift from whether to design it, to how.
 
One flashpoint is reading direction.
 
In Korea’s earlier debates, the same three characters were cited as proof of opposing philosophies: whether the plaque should be read in the traditional right-to-left order that appears today, “門化光,” and matching the Hanja over it, or in the modern, left-to-right order most people expect, “光化門.”
 
And, some heritage authorities are wary of the very real risk of a new board cracking, as happened in 2010.
 
The restoration-era nameboard in 2010 became infamous after it developed cracks within months, and later research led authorities to revise elements of the restoration installed in 2023.
 
Another question is placement.
 
Government briefings have described keeping the existing hanja nameboard on the third-floor eaves and installing a hangul board beneath it on the second-floor level, a visibility hierarchy that different camps may read as a symbolic “win” or “loss.”
 
“I’m against it. Personally, I can’t accept the idea of hanging it underneath,” Hanmalgeul Association head Lee said. "Still, we can’t just let this drag on forever... so I said, ‘Fine — then do it that way.’”
 
If two boards hang in one frame ultimately, Lee said, it becomes “storytelling” — a prompt for Koreans and foreigners to ask why hangul, celebrated on anniversaries and in museums, is still politically contested at home, with one of the most visible landmarks forcing the country's crowning achievements to share a place or prominence with a language not its own.
 
Lee worries that the spirit of King Sejong, whose statue sits just a few hundred yards away from the gate, may be diluted by such a sight.
 
“Then people — Koreans and foreigners — will look and think: ‘This is a heartbreaking history.’”

BY SEO JI-EUN,CHO JUNG-WOO,ALICIA CARR [seo.jieun1@joongang.co.kr]