Isomorphic Heterotopias of Martyrdom Spaces and the Overlapping of Memory: A Comparative Study of the Jeoldusan Martyrdom Site and Yanghwajin Cemetery in Seoul

Abstract

This study examines two proximate yet theologically and spatially disparate religious spaces in Seoul: the Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine (Korean: 절두산 순교 성지; hereafter “Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine”) and the Yanghwajin Protestant Cemetery (Korean: 양화진 묘원; hereafter “Yanghwajin Cemetery”). We propose the concept of isomorphic heterotopias and discuss the logic of intersecting memories. Drawing on Foucault’s concept of heterotopia and cultural memory theory, the study finds that the Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine, through architectural enclosure, the exhibition of relics, and pilgrimage rituals, foregrounds the vertical redemption of martyrs’ flesh and faith, reinforcing ecclesiastical discourse and collective salvation narratives. In contrast, at Yanghwajin Cemetery, through dispersed tombstone layouts, egalitarian epitaph inscriptions, and public commemorative activities, the study finds that the site presents the dialectic of the martyr spirit within a secular spiritual space and individual testimonies. Despite their spatial heterogeneity, their geographic proximity generates a dialogical memory field: the vertical sacrality of the shrine is refracted through the cemetery’s horizontality, while the cemetery’s public spirit resonates with the shrine’s liturgical framework. This dialogical memory field, shaped by shared physical environments and common public narrative platforms—generates a long-term coexistence without convergence, producing a spatial relationship of “non-integrative entanglement” born of antagonism. At the same time, these sites are not isolated spatial fragments; rather, through urban governance, they are woven into the same memory politics network, forming an “isomorphic heterotopia.” Through politically inflected discursive narratives, both sites facilitate multidirectional flows of memory, preserving their respective “canons” while re-contextualizing each other within the same urban memory network. In doing so, they engage in an ongoing process of mutual rereading and co-construction, producing a re-contextualization of spatial memory and shaping a “composite historical sensibility” that, in turn, contributes to the city’s character.

1. Introduction

For believers, space is not homogeneous; they can experience interruptions in space and enter into such interruptions (Eliade 1956, p. 1). As Lefebvre observes, the social essence of space is constituted by the integration of physical, psychological, and social dimensions (Lefebvre 1991, p. 404). However, contemporary spatial theory has not confined this concept to geometric coordinates or the physical domain. In successive processes of “rematerialization” in cultural geography, it has often been marginalized (Jackson 2000, pp. 9–14). Similar to the politics of space or the notion of “third space,” space becomes a psychological concept, floating above the physical surface. From a cultural perspective, as Lefebvre responds, apart from outer space, all relations are spatial and relational—that is, social in nature.

The essence of religion is social. Religious expression emerges through believers’ mobility, printed texts, everyday life, rituals, performances—whether performative or terrorizing—and even acts of death (Knott 2005, pp. 153–84). In van der Leeuw 1933 proposed in The Essence and Manifestations of Religion that sacred objects share homologous relations. Houses, temples, dwellings, pilgrimage sites, the human body, hearths, altars, sanctuaries, shrines, and the heart are related via metonymic associations. He established key terminology for the scholarly discussion of a “poetics of the sacred”. Furthermore, he recognized that a sacred place’s power “lies in its occupation and possession,” insofar as it houses sacred items, proprietors, and officiants while excluding others. Although Chidester and Linenthal note that religious scholars often focus on van der Leeuw’s phenomenological classification of sacred places and his poetics of the sacred, they also argue that he laid the groundwork for subsequent discussions on the construction and politics of these sites (Chidester and Linenthal 1995, pp. 8–10). Van der Leeuw revealed the political contestation of sacred places, and Chidester and Linenthal further highlight the power dynamics inherent in spatial occupation.

This theoretical perspective inspires the present study: if one takes death as an anchor to examine differentiated religious spaces, how do differing doctrines that sacralize death relate to religious politics? How do sacred spaces coexist under different doctrinal frameworks in the same city? How do they form intersecting memories that clash and collaborate? How does this confrontation and symbiosis play out within identical geographic boundaries? In cultural memory studies, space is the carrier of collective memory (Halbwachs 1950, pp. 12–13). The material elements of ritual space can transform abstract memory into perceivable spatial practices (Halbwachs 1950, pp. 12–13). Different faith communities may generate intertextual or intersecting memory fields in relation to the same space (Rothberg 2009, pp. 227–91). Studies on memory of Korean martyrdom spaces have revealed the impact of Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist values on the reception of martyrdom culture (Finch 2009, pp. 95–118), and from a theodicy perspective have explored how the history of Christian suffering has been received and reinterpreted in Korea, shaping memory through theological–social interactions. Moreover, the audiovisual representation of religious sites deepens believers’ spatial “self” and facilitates the experiential generation of collective memory (Roberts 2023, p. 52). These studies offer methodological references for understanding memory mechanisms in religious spaces. Comparative studies of cemeteries and martyrdom sites—for instance, the cultural memory examination of Catholic and Protestant cemeteries in Montreal—have found that Catholic and Protestant traditions exhibit cultural differences in views on death and commemorative practices (e.g., Montreal’s nineteenth-century Catholic cemeteries often employed religious monuments for moral education, whereas Protestant cemeteries emphasized individual identity (Watkins 2002, pp. 52–62). Field research on early modern Western European Protestant and Catholic memorial symbols likewise indicates that different denominations, despite their distinct theological logics regarding death symbols and commemorative practices (Mytum 2009, pp. 160–82), may present intertextual or contrasting meanings within the same community context.

In 1866, the Joseon dynasty, concerned that Catholicism might undermine the state order and citing its perceived links with Western powers, launched a severe persecution of Catholics. A number of martyrs were executed at Jeoldusan and their bodies were cast into the Han River. To commemorate the centenary of the 1866 Byeong-in persecution, the Catholic Church in Korea established the Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine in Seoul. Situated only about one hundred meters away across the terrain is the Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery. Compared to Jeoldusan, Yanghwajin held even greater strategic significance. Dating back to 1754, the site was historically associated with royal executions, and by 1894 it had already acquired a reputation as a place where the spiritual and temporal realms could not easily converge.

Yanghwajin’s transformation into a missionary burial ground in 1890 was the product of specific historical circumstances. Following the establishment of diplomatic ties between missionaries and the royal court in 1884—marked by the founding of Korea’s first Western-style hospital, Gwanghyewon—missionary John W. Heron succumbed to dysentery in 1890. The question of his burial arose at a time when anti-Christian sentiment in Joseon was still pronounced, and missionary work relied heavily on Western-led medical, educational, and charitable activities to permeate the Confucian social order, seeking indirect means of evangelization within the larger societal framework. In the same period, Joseon had signed a treaty of amity and commerce with Britain, which included a provision for the free construction of foreign cemeteries within treaty ports. With British assistance, Heron was buried at Yanghwajin, thus establishing the site as the principal burial ground for foreign missionaries—a role it has retained ever since. The lives and deaths of these missionaries, interred in this space, stand as enduring witnesses to Korea’s modern historical transformations.

Today, the Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine and the Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery are increasingly embedded within the logic of Seoul’s contemporary public sphere. Statistics indicate that Yanghwajin receives approximately 30,000 Korean visitors and around 500 foreign visitors annually (Mason 2012), while the Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine records more than 300,000 annual entries—including both pilgrims and general visitors—each year (Kim 2022, para. 1). These figures not only underscore the enduring public visibility of both sites but also point to their transformation from exclusive religious enclaves into integral components of Seoul’s cultural and commemorative landscape.

As outlined above, the Catholic Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine and the Protestant Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery form a comparative pair by virtue of their geographical proximity. Research reveals that the two sites display markedly different spatial configurations and mnemonic narratives. The Catholic shrine integrates a museum, a reliquary of martyrs’ remains, a pilgrimage church, and saintly statuary, thereby reinforcing a highly vertical monopoly on the sanctification of death. In contrast, the Protestant cemetery embodies a more austere atmosphere, conveying theological meaning through individual epitaphs and modest carvings. These sites not only exhibit substantial divergence in their material forms and symbolic systems, but also engage in a complex mode of interaction within the contemporary urban public sphere. Despite their fundamental heterogeneity, their spatial proximity renders each a latent context for the other.

Drawing on Foucault’s notion of the “juxtaposition of incompatible spaces,” this spatial dyad may be conceptualized as heterotopias in juxtaposition, while simultaneously constituting an intertextual site of “overlapping memory.” Specifically, this study aims to address (1) how sectarian theological differences between Catholic and Protestant death spaces are projected into material practice and spatial production, thereby generating distinct symbolic systems; (2) through comparative analysis, how these systems—in terms of spatial design, public use, and institutional governance—produce a “non-integrative entanglement” structure that both influences and preserves their respective differences; and (3) how both sites are institutionally incorporated into the same memory-politics network, forming an “isomorphic heterotopia.” Finally, it examines how this juxtaposition engenders overlapping memory.

The study concludes that the heterogeneity between Catholic and Protestant death spaces is fundamentally the result of sectarian theological differences projected into material practices. Their spatial proximity fosters an overlapping mortuary memory that reflects the complex symbiosis of polyphonic historical narratives in the contemporary city. The intertextual relationship between Catholic material symbols and ritual practices emerges as a key mechanism in the production of heterotopia; through the cross-site visibility of the two spaces, their respective symbols and rituals are naturally placed in potential contrastive contexts by public visitation, thereby enabling implicit interdenominational dialog and mutual reference. However, this visibility—shaped by shared physical environments and common public narrative platforms—generates a long-term coexistence without convergence, producing a spatial relationship of “non-integrative entanglement” born of antagonism. In other words, Jeoldusan’s vertical sacrality is diluted into a “contested tradition” by Yanghwajin’s public accessibility, while Yanghwajin’s secularized narrative gains a “sacred frame of reference” through the presence of Jeoldusan.

At the same time, these sites are not isolated spatial fragments; rather, through urban governance, they are woven into the same memory-politics network, forming an “isomorphic heterotopia.” Through politically inflected discursive narratives, both sites facilitate multidirectional flows of memory, preserving their respective “canons” while re-contextualizing each other within the same urban memory network. In doing so, they engage in an ongoing process of mutual rereading and co-construction, producing a re-contextualization of spatial memory and shaping a “composite historical sensibility” that, in turn, contributes to the city’s character.

2. Spatial Analysis of the Catholic Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine

The overall form of the Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine is a sloping, three-dimensional structure. The Martyrs’ Church is situated at the summit of Chamtobong (diagram label 2), arranged to face toward the hilltop and creating an ascending pilgrimage experience. Architecturally, the principal building is a three-level box structure. The ground level is open, the upper levels feature balconies and a double-column cloister, and a towering bell tower borrows from the Korean traditional “갓” (high-crowned hat) shape. The spire resembles the instrument of execution, with a circular opening at its apex symbolizing the path of faith. Inside, the church has a trapezoidal floor plan that narrows toward the altar end, naturally focusing the visual attention on the sanctuary. At the ceiling, a circular oculus decorated with stained glass guides natural light onto the altar, signifying divine revelation. The main doors are inlaid with beams symbolizing the Ascension, and the door knock combines traditional Korean door-ring motifs with the martyrdom symbol of a noose (“목칼”), its interior relief carved with the Korean “mugunghwa” (Jung 2012, pp. 71–86) motif. The interior walls feature relief scenes depicting the persecution endured by the martyrs, allowing worshippers to viscerally experience the historical memory of suffering.

The martyrdom space at Jeoldusan can be seen in Figure 1. The relic chamber for the martyrs (label 4) is located beneath the church in the same building. Within the church complex is also a museum space finished predominantly in white and gold, creating a solemn atmosphere for venerating the martyrs’ relics. Adjacent to the church is the Martyrs’ Memorial Hall (label 3), whose exterior adopts a palace-like colonnade style with a three-tiered structure: ground-level piloti, second-floor balcony, and third-floor eaves with gourd-string–style curved rooflines. Exposed columns and beams combined with the double-column cloister evoke a restrained yet exalted architectural language. Inside the Memorial Hall are displays of books, church archives, folk ceramics, and works reflecting the spirit of martyrdom, including oil paintings and relief sculptures such as Glory and Mother of the Martyr and the Red Robe. Glory reenacts scenes of persecution during the Byeong-in Persecution, while Mother of the Martyr and the Red Robe uses relief to convey the Catholic martyr spirit and the Virgin’s compassion.

From the exterior approach, sacred icon paintings are erected at the entrance to Jeoldusan, serving as visual signposts inviting entry into the shrine. Along the path, sculptures with motifs such as the Bible, the cross, nooses, and execution instruments function as guiding elements. A pair of wooden sculptures—on the left symbolizing the executioner’s “knife” and on the right symbolizing an angel’s “feather”—are intertwined by a grapevine, symbolizing the “fruit of discourse.” Linked to these is Father Kim Dae-geon Plaza, laid out in the form of a cross and serving as the central communal space of the entire shrine. Extending from this plaza is the Way of the Cross, composed of 14 scenes of suffering (label 17). As Chŏng discusses in his catechetical writings on the Fall of Adam, Christ’s Passion, and Resurrection (Rausch 2016, pp. 70–71), Jeoldusan’s spatial arrangement reenacts the cycle of fall, suffering, and resurrection.

In September 2018, when Seoul became the first Asian city approved by the Vatican as an international pilgrimage destination, Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine became an important station on international pilgrimage routes. According to information published by the Catholic Archdiocese of Seoul’s Martyrs’ Promotion Committee, Pilgrimage Route No. 3—also known as the “Path of Solidarity”—is intended to encourage all pilgrims to emulate and practice the faith of the martyrs. This route connects Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine with other well-known martyrdom sites such as Sanamtŏ, Danggogae, and others (Catholic Archdiocese of Seoul Martyrs’ Promotion Committee 2025b). At each station, multimedia guides and “Footprints of the Martyrs” video projections preserve the visual imprints of successive generations of martyrs in real space. Route No. 4 was established to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the birth of the first Korean priest, Father Andrew Kim. His martyrdom route is also one of the Vatican-approved international pilgrimage routes, known as the “Catholic Seoul Pilgrimage Path.” Pilgrims commemorate his martyr spirit by journeying from the Uipodocheong site to the four martyrdom sites outside Seosomun, including Danggogae Martyrs’ Shrine, Saenamtu Martyrs’ Shrine, and Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine (Catholic Archdiocese of Seoul Martyrs’ Promotion Committee 2025c).

Beyond measuring the martyr spirit by foot, Jeoldusan Shrine regularly holds remembrance Masses for the martyrs and visual pilgrimage activities. On the 12th of every month, when the priest reads passages such as John 12:24, screens simultaneously display the martyrs’ portraits and biographical summaries. During the Eucharistic celebration, martyr-themed insignia and fabric decorations flank the altar, creating a solemn atmosphere. At the conclusion of Mass, worshippers proceed along the central aisle to the martyrs’ monument, light candles, and pray silently, integrating “seeing—memory—commitment” into a dual visual and bodily pilgrimage experience (Catholic Archdiocese of Seoul Martyrs’ Promotion Committee 2025a). On major feast days, special Masses are held to reinforce collective memory, for example, on the 200th anniversary of Father Kim Dae-geon’s birth in 2021, the day in 2018 when Vatican envoy Archbishop Rino Fisichella announced Seoul’s designation as an international pilgrimage site, and the annual Martyrs’ Memorial Day (September 20). Events such as “Martyr Portrait Exhibitions,” “Readings of Martyrdom Literature,” and “Dramatic Performances” engage the faithful through visual art and oral history, fostering sensory and emotional connections.

As Christian philosopher Leibniz’s theodicy suggests—“the defense of divine justice in the face of evil,” explaining suffering in terms of ultimate justice after death (Rausch 2016, pp. 70–71) ritual practices at Jeoldusan reenact eschatological justice, pointing toward the martyrs’ share in divine justice. As James A. Walsh writes, “He who knows the value of a soul counts not the cost of saving it.” (Walsh 1933, p. 10).

Building on this theological framework. In the modern Korean context, the mythologization of “Jeoldusan’s witness of blood” reinforces the moral authority of the Church, embedding the shared suffering as collective identity through risking one’s life for faith. Viewed against Korea’s modern history of persecution, believers hold that martyrdom ensures missionary success—a notion influenced by the early Church. Martyrdom strengthens believers’ spirit of suffering and sacrifice and distinguishes Catholicism from other religions. Simultaneously, the emergence of native Korean martyrs propelled the indigenization of Catholicism, offering opportunities for apostates to reintegrate. In a limited and intermittent way, persecution also contributed to the spread of Christianity.

3. Case B: Analysis of Yanghwajin Cemetery (Protestant)

From the urban locational perspective, Yanghwajin Cemetery now occupies the northeast side of the former Yanghwajin ferry site in Mapo District, Seoul. The terrain is flat, and the overall plan is rectangular, divided into a grid by intersecting north–south and east–west pathways. The main entrance is situated on the central south axis, which extends along the north–south axis from the main entrance (Figure 2, label 2) to a secondary entrance at the northern end, forming a visual and ritual procession route. Secondary north–south paths intersect with east–west service lanes, subdividing the site into nine functional sectors. Within each sector, tombstones are arranged compactly, forming discrete grid blocks. This layout reflects the Protestant ideal of equality among all individuals and aligns with the ordered production of urban public space. Observers proceeding north along the main axis follow not only a geographical direction but also a narrative progression, from early missionaries to post-war burials and onward to the infant section, completing a spatial sequence layered with historical temporality. By 2005, Yanghwajin had been in existence for 115 years and contained 877 graves; after 2005, no new monuments have been permitted. The burial ground covers approximately 13,224 square meters and includes 417 individuals from 15 countries, among them 145 missionaries from six different nations (Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery 2022). According to Jeong Ae-ju’s 2015 statistics, Yanghwajin inters 114 missionaries, 28 missionary children, and 17 non-religious individuals (Jeong 2015). Among these burials, 60 epitaph records are clearly documented (see Appendix A). These epitaphs form the core corpus for this study.

The diagram is a bird’s-eye view oriented with north at the top and south at the bottom. The number 2 indicates the main entrance (출발, “departure”) at the southern end; a secondary entrance is located at the northern terminus of the central axis. Internal paths are arranged in a grid pattern. Other numbered labels correspond to grave sites and are not relevant to the present study.

Analysis of epitaph content in Yanghwajin Cemetery indicates that approximately 70% quote from the New Testament, focusing on Jesus Christ’s teachings and redemption, believers’ faith life, and church relations—emphasizing justification by faith, Christ’s exemplary role, and the believer’s mission in the New Testament age. Quotations from the Old Testament constitute only about 10%, emphasizing attributes of God and the ultimate covenant promises concerning believers’ blessed state. The remaining 20% comprises summaries of personal character or deeds without scriptural quotations. The epitaphs are constructed around three genealogies—Scripture, ministry, and virtue—directly reflecting the Protestant doctrine of “faith, action, and witness.” Over 60% of Yanghwajin’s tombstones feature a cross atop (Latin or Celtic style), crafted in various materials, visually echoing the scriptural quotations in epitaphs and forming sacred visual markers. Where epitaphs lack scriptural quotations, English lettering and descriptions of service deeds emphasize individual identity and social contributions, situating religion and secular publicness within the same commemorative field. The semantic traces of hope after death and doctrines of death and eternal life reflected in the epitaph texts aim to reassure individuals’ fear of death and, at the collective level, to construct a transgenerational, cross-cultural representation of the faith community. In the next chapter, the Presbyterian Church of Korea’s centennial memorial committee official publication, PCK World, emphasizes that the management mechanism employing a multifaith imaginative complex originates from this rationale.

From the standpoint of national narrative, since the early twentieth century, mainstream Korean Christian media have framed neglect of the cemetery as a moral and religious crisis. For example, Kim Sung-Soon noted in the Korean Christian Weekly, “Although Yanghwajin is a sacred site of great significance to Korean Christianity, it now lies neglected—overgrown with weeds and its tombstones left in disrepair” (Kim 2001). During Chuseok, not a single flower was placed, elevating “cemetery neglect” to the level of “desecration of the pioneering martyrs’ spirit,” thereby exerting moral pressure within church circles and public opinion. Such critical discourse amplifies the perceived “secularization” crisis of the site while implicitly suggesting that only by re-envisioning the cemetery from a “sacred” perspective can religious reverence for the martyrs be restored. In the early 2000s, the Presbyterian Church of Korea’s official publication PCK World issued multiple editorials and academic commentaries continuing the tone of “neglect” and “erasure of the predecessors’ value.” It first emphasized the will of the church community, calling for multifaith joint management to transcend denominational territoriality. It stated that Yanghwajin is not merely a foreigners’ cemetery but shared heritage of pioneers of Korean Christian mission, advocating joint stewardship by the five major denominations to surpass secular and denominational divides. It repeatedly stressed its status as a “Holy Landmark” (Presbyterian Church of Korea 2003), excising the cemetery from secular contexts of urban park or foreigners’ burial ground and integrating it into the canonical narrative of Korean church history. The catalysis by media and national narratives indirectly influenced municipal decision-makers, elevating public discussion of this religious space into a broader social issue.

4. Comparative Analysis

Through the spatial analysis of Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine, the Catholic theological imperative of “vertical redemption” and ecclesiocentric claims become evident. In the overlay of physical space and symbolic ritual practice, participants are incorporated into a theological narrative of suffering and resurrection. The design of the church’s relic display chamber transforms martyrs’ remains into the symbol of a reliquary, stripping away the bloodiness and mundanity of death while retaining the sanctified body. This ensures that the spatial narrative consistently serves the Church’s moral authority. Fundamentally, Jeoldusan’s monopoly on sacrality depends on Vatican authentication and unfolds on that basis. After Seoul obtained the symbolic capital of a global Catholic pilgrimage site in 2018, attracting transnational believers through pilgrimage feeds back into the local Church, forming a cycle of “sacred production capital.” In this chain, secular power is relegated to a collaborative role without authority to intervene in the core sacred narrative, gradually externalized. The entire physical space of Jeoldusan Shrine metaphorically embodies the fundamental logic of Catholic theology: collective redemption and ecclesiocentrism. As Tertullian famously stated, “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church” (Tertullian [1885] 1999, ch. 50, sec. 13). The trinity of martyrs’ relics, the Way of the Cross, and the Mass ritual transforms individual death into the source of the Church’s communal life. This confirms Eliade’s core proposition that sacred space establishes its ontological status through rupture from the profane (Eliade 1956).

The spatial production mechanism of Yanghwajin Cemetery exhibits a sacred logic entirely distinct from Jeoldusan. The cemetery’s layout enacts a homogeneous narrative, and the open interpretability of epitaph texts realizes a dynamic negotiation between the sacred and the secular. From the national narrative timeline discussed above, the moral critique of neglect in Presbyterian publications during the 2000s reconstructed the cemetery from a forgotten foreigners’ burial ground into a Korean Christian sacred site. Municipal intervention in the public sphere incorporated the cemetery into Han River cultural-belt planning, diluting the space’s religious exclusivity and rendering it a site where secular behaviors and commemorative rituals coexist. As Massey articulates in her concept of “power geometry,” sacredness is not preexisting but is dynamically generated through negotiated practices among multiple actors. Unlike the Catholic logic of monopolizing sacrality, Yanghwajin’s spatiality arises from Protestant emphases on individual witness and secular vocation. Calvin argues in the Institutes of the Christian Religion, “The daily work of believers is all holy service”. This theological view rejects confining sacredness to specific ritual spaces, emphasizing “life as pilgrimage.” Accordingly, Yanghwajin Cemetery’s grid-like layout, by spatially homogenizing and eliminating hierarchical differences, materializes the Protestant priesthood-of-all-believers ideal. As Waltersdorf observes, unlike Catholicism, Protestant space decentralizes and weakens institutional sacral authority, allowing individuals to engage directly with the sacred. Yanghwajin’s grid layout embodies this idea materially: sacrality is no longer monopolized in a specific ritual center but is diffused throughout the cemetery’s egalitarian narrative.

At present, the Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine and the Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery are becoming increasingly embedded within the logic of Seoul’s public sphere. Since the 2010s, the Seoul Metropolitan Government has sought to incorporate religious commemorative spaces into an overarching plan for the “restructuring of urban memory.” Both Yanghwajin and Jeoldusan have been included in the Pilgrimage Heritage Route and designated as core components of Mapo District’s “Modern Historical and Cultural Belt”. They were, respectively, inscribed as municipal cultural properties in 1997 (as part of the Yanghwajin Ferry and Jandu Peak Historic Site) and in 2015. This institutional recognition demonstrates that the public perception of these religious spaces as historical landmarks, along with their social functions, has attained a notable degree of stability.

However, this contemporary “publicness” does not stem from a unified historical memory. As noted above, the interlacing of spatial proximities and heterogeneous narratives has shaped public recognition of their educational, scenic, and spiritual values. This mode of reception, as Michel De Certeau (1984) observes, constitutes a “tactic of space appropriation” in which the public, through personal memory and embodied experience, rewrites commemorative spaces originally embedded within the framework of state narratives—thereby moving beyond the constraints of strictly canonical religious discourse. This pathway of engagement exemplifies the theoretical proposition advanced in this study as “non-integrative entanglement,” whereby, within the urban context, the two sites are neither fully homogeneous nor entirely exclusive. Instead, they constitute the empirical foundation of heterotopia through structural diversity.

As shown in

Table 1. Core differences between Catholicism and Protestantism in theology and spatial practice.

	Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine	Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery
Theological Principles	Theology of martyrdom; Church as the sole mediator of salvation; emphasis on veneration of relics and collective liturgy	Sola Scriptura, “priesthood of all believers”; individual’s direct relationship with God; rejection of relic veneration
Spatial Configuration	Vertical, centralized layout; altar–relics–pilgrimage route aligned along a unified sacred axis	Horizontal, decentralized layout; grid arrangement of flat gravestones without a central architectural focus
Material Symbols	Martyrs’ relic chamber, Stations of the Cross reliefs, saint statues, stained-glass windows—highly symbolic elements	Gravestones, epitaphs, modest carvings focusing on personal narratives and biblical quotations
Ritual Practices	Institutionalized and highly collective (Mass, pilgrimage, annual commemorations)	Individualized and non-liturgical (family visits, personal prayer, small gatherings)
Public Function	Reinforces doctrinal unity and communal identity; high politico-religious tension	Emphasizes education, historical memory, and civilizational enlightenment; highly accessible to the public
Temporal Experience	Oriented toward the “eternal” sacred time-space; emphasis on transcendence and tradition	Oriented toward “historical” secular time-space; emphasis on historical education and personal testimony
Relation in the Urban Context	Constitutes a “vertical redemption” narrative	Constitutes a “horizontal hope” narrative

, the distinctions between Catholicism and Protestantism—ranging from theological principles to spatial configurations and ritual practices—form the structural foundation for what this study defines as “non-integrative interweaving.”

The comparative spatial forms at Chŏltusan Martyrs’ Shrine and the Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery reflect distinct theological orientations embedded in material practice. Catholic martyrdom theology is expressed through a vertical sacred hierarchy—elevated structures, relic chambers, and collective liturgies—while Protestant memorial culture emphasizes horizontal organization, modest monumentalism, and individualized commemoration. These orientations translate belief into spatial syntax, shaping the visitor’s experience and the symbolic orders sustained within each site.

The rationale for conceptualizing this relationship as a form of non-integrative entanglement lies in the fact that Catholicism and Protestantism fundamentally embody two irreconcilable systems of memory. As the preceding spatial analysis has shown, the spatial logic of Catholic martyrdom theology reinforces a highly exclusive alignment of ritual and doctrine, while the Protestant cemetery—established from the outset with an emphasis on education and enlightenment—foregrounds publicity and pedagogical values. These divergent orientations generate a symbolic rupture, lacking a shared grammar of integration, and thus lay the foundation for symbolic incommensurability.

Much like their physical proximity, the two sites are situated adjacently along the narrative timeline—1866 for Jeoldusan and 1890 for Yanghwajin—yet they remain in political–ethical opposition. The former is often inscribed within an anti-oppression narrative, while the latter points toward contested histories of the Japanese colonial period. This non-contemporaneity of memory (Chakrabarty 2000), when interwoven, nonetheless resists synthesis, providing the structural basis for their entanglement without fusion.

Moreover, the cultural mechanisms of modern urban space have endowed this “confrontation” with both visibility and continuity. Within heritage policies such as the Pilgrimage Heritage Route and the Hangang Historical Belt, an institutionalized appearance of pluralistic coexistence is constructed, wherein the two sites are passively drawn into each other’s systems of meaning through urban planning, political discourse, and public narratives. Yet, as argued here, such “plural coexistence” remains confined to the level of institutional space. Given the fundamentally different symbolic grammars and doctrinal value hierarchies of the two memory systems, their co-presence instead accentuates points of incompatibility. This ensures that difference continues to manifest and that confrontation becomes stabilized as a persistent spatial relationship.

5. Logic of Generating Isomorphic Heterotopias and Intersecting Memories

Heterotopias are a core metaphor in Foucault’s triadic dialectic of power-knowledge-space; in his 1967 lecture “Of Other Spaces,” Foucault describes them as counter-sites embodied in real places, spaces that function by juxtaposing what is otherwise incompatible, thus subverting the logic of everyday space (Foucault 1986). Heterotopias are real sites inscribed within social systems, reflecting, protesting, and inverting other spaces (Zhang 2016, pp. 126–32). Religion is essentially social, and in its circulation, believers and religious culture create new spaces—so-called diasporic or dispersed spaces that are both real and imagined, physical and social in their spatial attributes. Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine and Yanghwajin Cemetery can be understood as religious dispersed spaces whose multi-denominational juxtaposition forms a model of denominationally heterogeneous intersecting memories. As Foucault notes, heterotopias can juxtapose “multiple spaces that are, in themselves, incompatible” within a single real site; the juxtaposition of Jeoldusan and Yanghwajin thus forms an “Isomorphic Heterotopia.”

Papal and notable visits have further solidified Jeoldusan’s sacral status: Pope John Paul II visited in 1984 and Blessed Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa) visited in 1985, each affirming its spiritual significance. In 1997, the Korean government designated Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine as a national historic site, reflecting state-level recognition of the martyrdom value. In contrast, Yanghwajin Cemetery experienced a different trajectory: under Park Chung-hee’s 1961 decree prohibiting foreigners from owning land, Yanghwajin Cemetery became temporarily ownerless and was only designated as a park by the Seoul municipal government in 1965. Such state-level adjudications establish external boundaries for the legitimacy of these heterotopian fields. The contrast between neglect and flourishing of these religious spaces also reflects differences in national and religious identity constructions. Catholic martyr narratives are frequently incorporated into modern national history discourses, whereas the Protestant foreign missionaries’ cemetery has more often relied on spontaneous dissemination of its value through church organizations and media. This distinction exemplifies the divide between grand narrative and individualistic narrative. Local government cultural planning, national heritage designation, and media discourse together form an institutionalized mechanism for negotiating memory, incorporating the sacred-secular significance of heterotopias into broader urban and national narrative networks. In concrete historical contexts, whether heterotopias can be juxtaposed, and how they are accepted or rejected by society, is determined not only by internal religious or cultural logic but also by legal and planning policies at the state or municipal level. This aligns with research in urban heritage protection, which shows that urban planning and cultural heritage policies often determine whether a space can bear and publicly present a particular collective memory, thereby affecting its mnemonic tension and the generation of social meaning (Chiodelli and Moroni 2017, pp. 62–70).

Within Lefebvre’s spatial triad framework, heterotopias represent the spatialization of perceived space in physical form: different denominations project their own logics of redemption or hope onto the imagined spatial level, so that in practiced space believers experience distinct embodied trajectories. Hence, geographic proximity coupled with functional heterogeneity is a primary generative condition for heterotopias. The intertextual relationship between symbols and rituals is the key mechanism generating semantic depth within a heterotopia. The materialized symbols of martyrdom at Jeoldusan—such as the Stations of the Cross reliefs, stained-glass windows, and the reliquary—construct a visible text of the Catholic narrative of vertical redemption, corresponding to the Protestant cemetery’s Euro-American-style forest of headstones that conveys a textual vision of horizontal hope and personal testimony. Together, these elements form the visual grammar of the respective spaces. Religious rituals—such as Catholic Mass and pilgrimage, or Protestant personal prayer and commemorative gatherings—breathe dynamic life into these symbols. The symbolic meaning of the signs is only made manifest through the enactment of ritual, while the ritual’s own symbolic force depends on the symbols as its material carriers and contextual framework (Turner 1969; Geertz 1973).

This intertextuality is not only highly coupled within the internal structures of each denomination—producing two distinct narrative formations of “vertical redemption” and “horizontal hope,” one closed and the other open-ended—but also, within the cross-site visibility of the two spaces, naturally places their symbols and rituals into a latent comparative frame for visiting publics. This process facilitates an implicit interdenominational dialog and mutual referencing. In this way, heterotopia acquires its layered semantic density not only through the reciprocal referencing of material symbols and ritual practices, but also through its continual reproduction and re-contextualization within public perception and the city’s memory network (Lefebvre 1991; Foucault 1986). For example, contrasting the Protestant “priesthood of all believers” ideal against the collective ritual of martyrdom yields a rich comparative interpretation. Such intertextual interaction aligns with Rothberg’s theory of multidirectional memory: in this interplay, the memory narratives of Jeoldusan and Yanghwajin not only extend themselves internally but are continuously enriched and reinterpreted through mutual reference, forming deep “intersecting memories.” Just as Rosenberg traces how Holocaust memory and colonial memory interpenetrate—breaking zero-sum frames—this constitutes the formation of intersecting memories, wherein memory symbols and texts produce a palimpsestic effect across physical and discursive spaces. This intertextuality indicates that culturally embedded memory fields are always in the process of rewriting (Rothberg 2009, pp. 227–91).

Catholic martyrs, through their sacrifice for the faith, forged a localized spiritual axis that bears intense politico-religious tension within narratives of national identity and resistance. The Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery, by contrast, differs fundamentally: as indicated by its very name, it was intended to highlight both the national origins of the missionaries and their role as educators. Its historical trajectory follows the pathway of civilizational enlightenment—the eastward transmission of Western learning—modernity. Each space thus maintains its own canon.

In this light, Catholicism radiates inward, embedding faith into the spatial fabric to produce a highly religious narrative, whereas the Protestant cemetery, from its inception, was imbued with the meaning of an external civilizational influence projected onto the Joseon dynasty. This divergence produces both a tension of memory and a conflict in the symbolic hierarchy between the two sites. Yet both are situated along the banks of the Han River, where pilgrimage and visitation form an intertextual network of physical routes. Such spatial juxtaposition compels both the public and scholars to narratively interpret them as “two facets of a single historical moment”, thereby activating a mechanism of mutual re-reading.

Although both spaces take “death” as the thematic core for constructing urban memory, their semantic emphases diverge. Under the umbrella term “Seoul Faith Heritage,” the intertextuality between suffering and dedication converges upon a shared conclusion: the religious spaces along the Han River constitute an ethical space of the city.

Placed within a broader historical context, the martyrdom events—rooted in the conflicts between the Qing Empire and the West—together with the narratives of missionaries from the late Joseon period through the era of Japanese colonial rule, jointly fill the temporal and spatial dimensions of Seoul’s modern transition, forming a narrative framework of mutual embeddedness. The memory narratives of Jeoldusan and Yanghwajin not only extend themselves but are also continually enriched and re-read through mutual reference, generating a deep-layered overlapping memory. As Rothberg argues in his analysis of the mutual permeation between Holocaust memory and colonial memory, the dismantling of a zero-sum framework is itself constitutive of multidirectional memory. Situated within both physical and discursive spaces, the mnemonic symbols and texts here produce a “palimpsest” effect, whereby the embedded cultural memory field is perpetually in the process of rewriting (Rothberg 2009, pp. 227–91).

Political discourse likewise serves as a crucial pivot shaping memory flows, influencing the formation and direction of multidirectional memory. Cultural memory scholarship indicates that cultural memory is a form of collective emotional attachment (Tang et al. 2025, p. 261). It not only circulates within the group but also enters broader social domains through public discourse; political discourse can thrust certain memory issues into the public eye or marginalize them. In the case of religious spaces, when attention focuses on heritage issues, it can trigger governmental or municipal planning interventions; policy intervention, in turn, alters site practices and generates new trajectories of collective memory narratives. Such multidirectional overlap occurs not only among different denominations or believer communities but also, through state discourse practices, forms cross-subject memory interactions. Yanghwajin Cemetery exemplifies this dynamic.

Maurice Halbwachs argues that each collective memory unfolds within a spatial framework, with different groups inscribing social relations and historical experiences through their spatial strategies; spatial durability enables continuity of memory. Religious groups, through settings such as altars and statues, repeatedly enact rituals that serve as carriers of faith memory, and the permanence of religious space metaphorically enshrines the invariance of belief, uniting collective memory with “sacred time” (Halbwachs 1950, pp. 12–13). Building on Halbwachs, Jan Assmann discusses the relationship among religion, culture, and memory, noting that memory, like language, is both a social and individual phenomenon and possesses a cultural dimension: on the one hand, through surface phenomena such as codices, religious rituals, festivals, and canonical texts; on the other hand, through suppression and resurrection of the past, it forms a persuasive view of past life (Assmann 2006). Accordingly, “intersecting memories” can be understood as interactive memory fields formed by two religious communities toward the same space. Assmann holds that the material elements of ritual space transform abstract memory into perceivable spatial practices, enabling religious groups to construct a “continuity of faith” in the physical environment—whether through Christian symbols signifying divine rebirth or the Late Egyptian ritual of reassembling scattered limbs as a symbol of unified regeneration of the land (Assmann 2006, pp. 161–63). Such rituals, through embodied actions and spatial aggregation, anchor politically unified memory in physical practice. As Nietzsche observes, “Only things that continue to hurt remain in memory,” making repetitive construction a key to public memory.

Based on Halbwachs and Assmann’s discussions of cultural and collective memory carriers, this study regards the symbols, spaces, and institutions of Catholicism and Protestantism as key elements embedded in collective memory. Previously detailed symbol forms and material referents need not be restated here. In short, the interplay of symbols, spaces, and institutions in different denominational fields both preserves each tradition’s memory canon and renders them mutually visible. Catholic scholars, when reviewing modern Seoul’s religious upheavals, often mention both foreign missionaries’ “social service and dedication” and local martyrs’ sacrifices side by side in academic discourse, rather than in opposition; similarly, Protestant communities, while emphasizing individual witness, also draw on the martyr spirit to explore faith purity. This multidirectional projection forms a polyphonic field of urban religious memory, making the memories of Jeoldusan and Yanghwajin “visible” to one another and jointly participating in reshaping Seoul’s religious tradition within historiography and public discourse, rather than through simple exclusion or marginalization. A review of academic studies on Jeoldusan and Yanghwajin reveals that comparative juxtaposition is common, and this study follows suit. Such scholarly dynamics also generalize intersecting memories at the ideological level. This symbol–narrative-based re-interpretation transcends initial denominational frameworks; in urban public discourse, these sites serve as footnotes to each other, enriching mnemonic content and reflecting memory’s multidirectionality and nonlinearity. As times change and issues such as human rights, social justice, and interreligious dialog become focal, sacred sites absorb more interreligious reflections on suffering. In this context, memory fields are redefined, drawing on original memory symbols while injecting new value judgments. In this process, the memory fields of Jeoldusan and Yanghwajin generate new intersection points when confronting modern social issues, thus participating in the generation of intersecting memories. Viewed in its entirety—or indeed from the very inception of this study—the central question has been what kind of overlapping memory are these two sites co-constructing? The author contends that it is a “composite sense of history that shapes the character of the city”, for the origins of the city and the starting point of its modernity are never characterized by singularity. The spatial configuration of memory itself constitutes the physical imprint of historical contestation and negotiation. The heterogeneous “entanglement” of spaces does not culminate in consensus, but rather in an urban spiritual structure capable of accommodating difference, preserving conflict, and generating semantic heterogeneity. As Andreas Huyssen aptly observes, the core mechanism of contemporary urban spatial memory lies in “the juxtaposition and rewriting of heterogeneous times within concrete space” (Huyssen 2003).

6. Conclusions

This study’s concept of religious Isomorphic Heterotopias aims to encapsulate the dual nature of religious space generation: simultaneously exclusive and autonomous, yet shaped collaboratively by multiple forces such as denominations, government, and national discourse (Soja 2005, pp. 25–30). As Soja argues, the “Third space” continually expands to encompass the “Other,” prompting ongoing negotiation and reconstruction of power structures and cultural identities. The notion of Isomorphic Heterotopias reveals how religious spaces in an urban context become entwined with public life and state power. This resonates with Lefebvre’s view of social space production—that space is shaped by social processes—and with Foucault’s insight of heterotopias as “counter-sites” that juxtapose incompatible elements.

One can envisage Catholic and Protestant presences coexisting in this district: the unified religious representation embodied by Jeoldusan Martyrs’ Shrine alongside the dispersed, decentralized form of Yanghwajin Cemetery, co-located within the same physical field. Studies by Dehaene and De Cauter demonstrate how reading urban space through heterotopia deconstructs commercialized, publicized spaces as products of post-civil society, where diverse groups enact public life in everyday places rather than grand platforms (Dehaene and De Cauter 2008). Similarly, the juxtaposition of Jeoldusan and Yanghwajin presents multiple images within one space, enabling multidirectional memory generation through mutual reference.