Brothers' HomeHistorical Archive

These documents reveal the systematic nature of operations within Brother's Home. They include intake forms, daily schedules, and disciplinary records.

These papers document the daily life within the facility, including work assignments, meal schedules, and "rehabilitation" programs.

The Brothers Home operated during a period of rapid industrialization and social change in South Korea, when welfare institutions often served multiple purposes.

This rare footage from the 1980s captures a moment of unthinkable cruelty - young children, who should have been playing in schoolyards, instead found themselves trapped within Brothers Home. Their clustered formation and institutional uniforms tell a story of lost childhood, of young lives suddenly and brutally interrupted by a system that viewed them not as children to be protected, but as bodies to be controlled.

This poignant image captures the daily ritual of morning assembly, where residents, many just teenagers, were forced to stand motionless for extended periods. The rigid formation and watchful supervision reflect the psychological control exercised over these young souls, who were stripped of their basic freedoms and dignity.

This disturbing footage reveals the systematic organization of children within the facility. Each face in the line represents a stolen childhood - many were forcibly separated from their families and subjected to a harsh institutional regime. The lockers and yellow curtains form a deceptively normal backdrop to what was, for these children, a daily nightmare.

The main entrance served as both a gateway and a barrier, symbolizing the boundary between the outside world and the confined life within.

The dormitory blocks were designed to house hundreds of residents, with minimal space and basic facilities.

This area was where many residents were forced to work long hours under harsh conditions, contributing to the facility's industrial output.

The extensive grounds of Brothers Home encompassed multiple buildings and facilities, designed to be self-contained and isolated from the outside world.

A row of windows with iron bars lines the concrete walls, making the facility resemble a prison rather than a welfare institution. These windows witnessed the plight of thousands who were illegally detained.

Sunlight through barred windows casts shadows on the floor. Behind this seemingly peaceful scene lies countless days and nights endured by thousands of illegally confined residents. Each ray of light carries the weight of historical memory.

These aren't just windows - they're the boundary between freedom and captivity. The heavy iron bars, casting long shadows across the concrete walls, represent more than mere security measures. They were the daily view for thousands of imprisoned souls, a constant reminder of their lost freedom. Each window frame holds countless untold stories of those who gazed through these bars, dreaming of the outside world they were forcibly separated from.

This haunting footage exposes the grim reality of daily life within Brothers Home. The endless rows of tightly packed metal bunk beds, overlooked by institutional banners, represent the systematic dehumanization of residents. Each bed tells a story of suffering - of individuals denied their basic human dignity, forced to exist in conditions more suited to a prison than a welfare facility.

This haunting nighttime scene reveals the grim reality of rest at Brothers Home. The cold, institutional setting with its rows of narrow beds speaks volumes about the residents' loss of privacy and dignity. Even in sleep, they were denied the basic comfort of a proper bed, forced to endure conditions that stripped away their humanity night after night.

This haunting aerial photograph exposes the true nature of Brothers Home - a sprawling complex built into the mountainside, deliberately isolated from society. Its institutional architecture, resembling a prison more than a welfare facility, stands as a stark reminder of the thousands of lives confined within its walls. The remote location and fortress-like design served a dual purpose: to prevent escapes and to keep the facility's dark reality hidden from the world.

A survivor shares their experiences of life within the facility, providing a firsthand account of the conditions and treatment they endured.

The drawing shows two inverted human figures, documenting the brutal punishment practices. These simple lines represent indelible collective memories and serve as crucial historical evidence.

Each careful line in this sketch maps not just a building, but a landscape of trauma. The detailed annotations in Korean and the precisely drawn transport routes reveal the methodical nature of the facility's operations. This isn't merely a blueprint - it's a survivor's attempt to make sense of their imprisonment, to document the spaces where thousands lost their youth, their dignity, and sometimes their lives.

This powerful illustration, created by a former resident, captures the raw reality of violence within the facility. Set against what appears to be a newspaper page with Korean text, the drawing shows a brutal assault scene. The artist's use of color, particularly the striking red, and the detailed portrayal of the figures reflect not just a memory, but a trauma that demanded to be documented and remembered.