CIAO DATE: 10/98

The 1997 Korean Presidential Elections

Chaibong Hahm,
Robert A. Scalapino,
and David I. Steinberg

Asia Society

November 1997

Contents

An Election Without Issues,  by Chaibong Hahm

Foreign Policy for a New Administration,  by Robert A. Scalapino

Presidential Elections and the Rooting of Democracy,  by David I. Steinberg

An Election Without Issues
by Chaibong Hahm

The 1997 presidential election campaign is unlike anything South Koreans have experienced before. With less than two months until election day, an opposition candidate is enjoying a commanding lead in the polls, while the ruling party’s candidate is trailing a distant third. Leading opposition candidates are putting the final touches on a political alliance, and the incumbent party is facing collapse. All this is extremely uncharacteristic of presidential campaigns in a country where, before the transition to full-fledged democracy some ten years ago, the results of presidential elections were largely a foregone conclusion as the authoritarian government used all of its considerable power to ensure that it stayed in power. Even when elections were closely fought despite the best efforts of the authoritarian regimes, it was never expected that the opposition would actually win. The candidate for the incumbent party always led in the polls and always ended up winning. The opposition repeatedly ensured its own defeat with factional infighting that split the ticket.

Of course, all this may only mean that democracy is taking root in South Korea. Indeed, considering the political and economic achievements of South Korea in recent years, the election of the fifteenth president of the republic, to take place on December 18, 1997, should be a proud occasion. Justly celebrated for its stunning economic growth of the past three decades and equally noted for its rapid transition to democracy since the late 1980s, South Korea, by all accounts, is now in the process of consolidating its economic and democratic achievements. It has fully graduated from “less developed country” status to the rank of a leading industrialized nation. Politically, the transition to democracy has been successfully carried out.

However, the mood in Seoul, and everywhere else in the country, is anything but joyful. Instead of celebrating decades of economic growth, South Koreans are anxious and even pessimistic about future economic prospects. Instead of celebrating the maturing of democracy, people are disillusioned and cynical about the political process. The election seems only to magnify and intensify this sense of crisis.

This is not to say that the South Korean economy and democracy are seriously threatened either from within or the outside. Despite the dramatic bankruptcies of major conglomerates (chaebol) and the ensuing financial crisis, it is unlikely that the economy is facing imminent collapse or a “meltdown” as some doomsayers would have it. It is highly unlikely that another military coup would disrupt the political process, no matter how “messy” the democratic process becomes. The threat from North Korea, while still very real, has not been a major issue during the campaign and has had little impact on the elections so far. What underlies the people’s anxiety and sense of crisis? Is it simply a case of the jitters as Koreans try to get used to the idea of the opposition taking power through an election for the first time? What is the logic driving this campaign? Why is the ruling party so weakened to the complete surprise of everyone? How should one interpret the bewildering proliferation of candidates and parties? What will the Korean people base their votes on? In order to try to answer at least some of these questions, it is important to analyze and understand the broad trends and major issues of South Korean politics. Only by understanding fundamental shifts in South Korea’s political discourse in recent years can one can begin to understand the complexities of the current election.

National Goals

During the past three decades, Korean political discourse has concentrated on such issues as economic development, democratization, national security, and reunification. These issues captured the highest hopes and aspirations of the Korean people, and in the broad scheme of things, all of these goals, with the exception of reunification, have been achieved. The process by which Korea achieved economic development and democratization while containing North Korean aggression was by no means a smooth one; it consisted of many false starts, reversals, and shocks. Coups d’etat, the bloody suppression of anti-government demonstrations, and frequent constitutional changes punctuated the political process, while pro-democracy demonstrations by students, intellectuals, and dissident political leaders became the order of the day.

The reasons for the tensions and collisions between opposing political forces were many, not the least of which was that many of their goals and ideals were different, and in some cases, downright contradictory. South Korean politics were riddled with battles between opposing political forces over how best to define and achieve national goals. Presidential elections always brought major social and political tensions, conflicts, and cleavages to the fore, revealing both the ideals as well as the most malignant aspects of the Korean political unconscious. They provided the opportunity for all political forces, including the opposition, to bring their cases to the public in a sharply focused manner. How then were the battle lines drawn?

Industrialization Versus Democratization

In the early 1960s South Korea was one of the poorest nations on earth. Over the next three decades, the nation embarked on economic growth that transformed the war-shattered agrarian economy into an industrial powerhouse. What made this transformation possible? An alliance among the military-backed government, the bureaucracy led by technocrats, and the industrialists. The authoritarian government kept dissidents and radical students as well as workers in check, thereby giving a free hand to the technocrats and the business community to pursue export and growth without political instability or labor unrest. It was a system designed to fully mobilize what meager resources the nation had for the sole purpose of industrialization. It was also designed to do that while keeping the North Korean threat at bay. Civil rights, already severely restricted in the name of maintaining economic growth, doubly suffered under the imperative of national security.

Dissidents, composed of intellectuals, university students, and labor unionists, decried the violation of human and civil rights perpetrated in the name of national security and economic growth. For them, nothing justified the curtailment of freedom the people had to suffer under authoritarian regimes. The repeated halting of the constitutional process stunted the growth of democracy and freedom, which they felt was more important than material well-being.

The issues were then framed in starkly opposing terms, such as “anti-communism versus leftism” or “national security and economic development versus disorder and chaos” by authoritarian regimes, and “democracy versus dictatorship” or “civilian versus military rule” by dissidents. The standoff, beginning with the military coup of 1961 that brought President Park Chung Hee to power, continued well into the 1980s. The tension and the stakes heightened with the election of President Park to a third term in 1969, an election made possible by a change to the constitution, and the proclamation of martial law in 1971. The assassination of Park in 1979 seemed to provide an opportunity for restoring full democracy. However, in 1980, the military intervened once again in the name of national security, economic stability, and order. When the people of the city of Kwangju rose up in protest, they were brutally suppressed by the army. The military now had blood on its hands. The tension between the establishment and dissidents built up over the decades of rapid industrialization and political repression was reaching a boiling point. Or so it seemed.

Releasing the Tensions

In 1986, as President Chun Doo Hwan was getting ready to hand over the presidency to his longtime friend and political ally Roh Tae Woo, the people had finally had enough. As dissidents and students began organizing massive protests against the proposed transfer of power from Chun to Roh, citizens began to join the ranks of the protesters en masse for the first time. After considering martial law, the government finally relented, reversing its position in a dramatic fashion by announcing direct presidential elections on June 29. Roh won the election with only 37 percent of the vote as the opposition votes were split between the two prominent dissident politicians, Kim Young Sam and Kim Dae Jung. The opposition lost an invaluable opportunity, something that haunts South Korean politics to this day.

Nevertheless, President Roh undertook broad liberalization measures in both political and economic spheres. The first thing he did was distance himself from the legacies of the ex-president, Chun, his lifelong friend and political sponsor. By separating himself from the man who put him in power, he was able to shore up, at least in part, his self-made image as a political reformer. In the economic sphere, massive strikes at the major centers of Korea’s industrial might were largely condoned, leading to equally massive hikes in the wages of workers who had contributed so much for so long to economic growth without reaping its benefits. The dismantling of many of the security apparatuses the government had wielded to great political effect led to the proliferation of political parties as well as civic organizations and interest groups. South Korea began to witness the growth of its own brand of civil society. In this fashion, the ruling party oversaw a process of rapid democratization almost in spite of itself. Ironically enough, the industrial and political tensions that had built up during decades of harsh military-backed rule were released during the presidency of Roh Tae Woo, a core member of the military establishment.

The next phase of the easing of tensions came in 1990. Midway through his term, President Roh found himself in the unenviable position of having to govern the country with a minority in the National Assembly. In the 1989 general elections the ruling party had lost its majority in the National Assembly, while the opposition was split into three major parties, led by Kim Dae Jung, Kim Young Sam, and Kim Jong Pil. The country was becoming increasingly ungovernable as the National Assembly became deadlocked over numerous issues. As for Kim Young Sam, destined to dominate the next phase of South Korean politics, things looked hopeless as he found himself the leader of a small minority party that trailed well behind Kim Dae Jung’s in National Assembly seats. In a bold attempt to escape political oblivion, Kim forged an alliance with his ideological archenemies, President Roh Tae Woo and Kim Jong Pil, leader of the smallest minority party and right-hand man of late president Park Chung Hee. This alliance, or Faustian pact, resulted in the creation of a new ruling party that dwarfed the only remaining opposition party, led by Kim Dae Jung.

The stunning move, which was a marriage of convenience at best, paved the way for Kim Young Sam’s eventual election to the presidency in 1992. With Kim’s election, a civilian became the occupant of the Blue House, the presidential mansion, for the first time in over 30 years. It was also the crowning moment in the illustrious career of a politician who had made his name as a dissident under decades of authoritarian rule. However, the victory was tainted in many people’s eyes, as it had been made possible only by the help of Roh and the establishment against which Kim had struggled so long and hard, becoming famous in the process. The supreme irony in all this was that the one-time dissident and one of the two most famous opposition leaders in South Korea became the presidential candidate of the ruling party, eventually getting himself elected on that ticket. The tension between the pro-democracy movement and the military-backed establishment was greatly reduced as the leaders of these formerly implacable foes joined hands to form the next government.

To be sure, President Kim undertook reform measures whose severity stunned friends and foes alike. He purged the most powerful clique in the army, which had produced the likes of Presidents Chun, Roh, and their would-be imitators. He also carried out a massive anti-corruption campaign, arresting or firing high-ranking government officials as well as some of the most powerful business leaders. A real-name-transactions law banning the use of incorrect or false names on bank and brokerage accounts was promulgated by executive order, opening the way for investigations into political slush funds. Two of the greatest “catches” of this new law, of course, were former presidents Chun and Roh who, after a dramatic trial, were jailed for using illegal political funds as well as for their role in the 1980 Kwangju massacre.

President Kim’s greatest contribution, however, was to nullify the “democracy versus economic development” dichotomy that had been central to South Korean politics for so long. Just as President Roh used Chun’s political power base to get himself elected, only to betray him out of political necessity, so did President Kim with his predecessor, President Roh. As a result South Korea underwent a rapid democratic transition without the ruling party ever losing power. It carried out far-reaching reform measures and maintained power by absorbing many of the opposition’s people and ideas. Through this process of “conservative reform,” the “democracy versus dictatorship” or “civilian versus military rule” tension came to be diffused.

Another reason for the success of this process was that the reforms were undertaken during a period of continuous economic expansion and growth. Whereas fundamental political transformations usually take place in periods of profound economic crisis and vice versa, the South Korean economy was largely untouched by the political turmoil engulfing the country. Indeed, during the 1980s, the South Korean economy remained the fastest growing in the world. In 1988, the nation hosted the Olympic Games, recorded as one of the most successful ever. Per capita income passed $10,000 in 1995, and South Korea became the twelfth-largest trading nation in the world with the eleventh-largest gross national product. It became the world’s second-largest producer of semiconductors and ships, fifth-largest manufacturer of automobiles, and sixth-largest producer of steel. In 1996 South Korea became a member of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, confirming its status as an industrial power that has come of age.

The Absence of Class and Religious Cleavages

By the mid-1990s the national goals of economic development, democratization, and preventing North Korean aggression were largely met. Furthermore, they were met in such a way that the political tensions created by strenuous efforts to realize them were gradually but entirely diffused. By no one’s design, but through political expediency and compromise, South Korea achieved its multiple goals simultaneously. These issues no longer arouse the political ardor they did only a decade ago, nor can they animate debate in the current presidential campaign. Since these issues ceased to be relevant, the political parties that based their identities on them have lost their individuality and ideological cohesion.

Nor can they rely on the socioeconomic cleavages upon which other political parties have traditionally been based, namely class and religion. During the 1980s, many radical students and intellectuals tried to apply a Marxist framework to the South Korean situation. Because rapid industrialization saw the equally rapid growth of the working class whose wages were kept artificially low, the situation seemed ripe for such an interpretation. However, to the disappointment of many radical intellectuals and political leaders, class consciousness among the workers did not grow. When democratization took place in the late 1980s and the wage rates rose in response to massive strikes and the government’s liberalization policies, the workers were placated. Many intellectuals decried the “betrayal” of class interest and the conservative nature of Korean workers. However, it was not the workers who lost their class consciousness. Rather, the intellectuals were mistaken in ever attributing class consciousness to South Korean workers.

This should come as no surprise given that any sort of leftist ideology is met with a very hostile and inhospitable environment in South Korea. Having suffered enormously during the Korean War, which was initiated by the invasion of the communist regime of North Korea, South Koreans have harbored very strong anti-communist sentiments. During President Park’s regime anti-communism was raised to the status of state ideology. From early childhood South Koreans learn about the countless atrocities committed by North Korean troops during the war and how the communists are responsible for the national division. Constant guerrilla infiltration and other incursions by North Korea heighten anti-communist feelings among the people. Anything smacking of socialism, communism, or leftism is considered taboo.

In the wake of the Kwangju uprising and the military takeover of 1980, a wave of “revisionist” views, some Marxist inspired, began to sweep the South Korean intellectual scene. These theories and the radical student and worker activism motivated by them seemed to presage the rise of a class society and ideology. However, the anti-communist and anti-leftist leanings of the public proved much too strong. Of course, the rise of the affluent middle class also played a major role in reversing leftist inroads. By the early 1990s, some 90 percent of South Koreans identified themselves as middle class. It became all too apparent that class consciousness and ideology had failed to take root in South Korea.

The fact that religion does not play a political role may come as a surprise to those who know that South Korean society is a veritable smorgasbord of religions. In Muslim countries from Morocco to Indonesia politics and religion are intricately linked. Most Western European countries have a Christian Democratic Party. Hinduism and Buddhism are major political factors in countries like India and Thailand. Historically, religious wars since the Reformation have produced deep divisions within society along religious lines which have been used to organize political parties ever since. But in South Korea where some 30 percent of the population is Buddhist, 25 percent Protestant, and 5 percent Roman Catholic, there are no parties organized along religious lines, and it is unlikely that one will be formed in the near future. Why?

Even though few Koreans would outwardly profess faith in shamanism and Confucianism, these two “religions” inform their fundamental world view. The vast majority of Korean Buddhists and Christians still perform the ancestor worship and shamanistic seances peculiar to Confucianism and shamanism, respectively. Daily manners, etiquette, language, and other rules of propriety are also based on Confucianism.

However, these two religions are different from others in that they both have a strong “inner-worldly” orientation, meaning that they lack the metaphysical orientation of Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam, which divides the world into secular and sacred parts. The metaphysical dichotomy peculiar to Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam provides their followers with a transcendental vantage point from which to analyze and criticize the secular and the profane. Lacking such a dichotomy, Confucianism and shamanism strongly emphasize harmony with nature, society, and other human beings. Rather than providing a basis for criticism, they enforce what has been called a “rational adjustment to the world” and “conformism.”

This has resulted in a religious syncretism which has allowed religions to peacefully coexist, sometimes intermingling to a degree that would alarm orthodox followers. As a result Korea has rarely, if ever, experienced religious wars—certainly nothing on the scale of the Western religious wars of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries or of Bosnia or the Middle East today. Thus in South Korea religion has failed to become a serious political factor.

Regionalism

The conundrum of the current South Korean presidential election is that there are real issues. Given that the national goals that have driven South Korean politics for the past half century have been met to a very large degree and that South Korean society lacks those differences that form the basis of political parties in other democracies, it is hard to identify the social conflicts and schisms that generate democratic party politics. Though they might disagree about the details, most South Koreans agree on where their nation should be headed. They have to find new major issues upon which they can agree to disagree for the sake of a pluralist democracy based on party politics.

What, then, is driving party politics in South Korea right now? What issues, ideologies, and social cleavages are current political parties based on? Here we are finally getting to the heart of the matter. In the absence of religious or ideological cleavages and in the wake of achievements in economic development, democratization, and national security, politics are becoming increasingly dependent on regionalism. Regionalism has been the bane of South Korean politics, blamed by many as the main hindrance to the development of full-fledged democracy. Ironically, as South Korea tries to come of age in political terms, its politics are becoming even more dependent on the one factor most detrimental to the growth of democracy.

The origins of regionalism are hotly debated. Whatever its genealogy, the regionalism that afflicts South Korean politics today acquired concrete form and shape in the 1960s, once economic development began in earnest. In order to concentrate scarce resources and allocate them more efficiently, President Park chose to develop the Seoul-Pusan corridor, an axis that included Kyongsang Province, where he happened to have been born. With the explosive growth of the economy in the ensuing decades, the region was heavily industrialized, while other provinces, such as Cholla, were relatively neglected. The fact that Park’s successors, Presidents Chun and Roh, were also from this province reinforced the idea that Kyongsang was given preferential treatment. That Kyongsang was about three times more populous than Cholla was not enough to account for the enormous discrepancies in the number of army generals and top government officials produced by the two provinces.

The sense of discrimination felt by the people of Cholla found a political representative in Kim Dae Jung, the region’s favorite son. Even up to 1971, when he finished a close second to the incumbent Park in the presidential elections, he was not perceived as the representative of Cholla Province, as indicated by his winning in cities such as Pusan, located in Kyongsang Province. However, he has since come to represent and embody the sense of frustration felt by the people of the region as a whole. His persecution at the hands of the authorities for his pro-democracy activities was also perceived by many as a persecution of Cholla. Then came the Kwangju pro-democracy movement in 1980. When students and citizens of the provincial capital of South Cholla Province began protesting the military coup that brought President Chun to power, paratroopers were sent in to brutally quell what the government then called a rebellion. That other cities undergoing much civil unrest during this period suffered a much lighter fate only confirmed popular suspicions.

Since then regionalism has been the most potent force for political mobilization in South Korea. Regional sentiments were exploited to the fullest by many politicians in the 1989 National Assembly elections, which saw the rise of Kim Jong Pil, who swept the vote in his home province of Chungchong, an area that had hitherto remained above the fray. When Chung Ju Young, the founder of Hyundai, ran for the presidency in 1992, he swept his native Kangwon Province. A trend was established.

The Three Kims

The problem of regionalism is inextricably linked with the so-called Three Kims—Kim Young Sam, Kim Dae Jung, and Kim Jong Pil—who have dominated Korean politics for the past 30 years. Each of the Three Kims has come to represent a particular region of the country; the political parties they lead also have their power bases in these regions. At the behest of these powerful leaders, regionalism has come to dominate Korean political debates. Regional ties and loyalties consistently overwhelm any consideration of either ideology or concrete policies. National Assembly elections as well as the presidential elections have turned into a matter of securing the votes of undecided regions (simply because they are not represented in the race), in addition to votes from one’s home province.

The Three Kims have attained their political status by dint of Korea’s recent history. In the struggle against authoritarian regimes, charismatic leaders were clearly necessary, and Kim Young Sam and Kim Dae Jung fit the role perfectly. The two Kims became such powerful figures because for 30 years they were the symbols and leaders of the pro-democracy movement. On the other hand, Kim Jong Pil was the brain behind the coup that brought Park to power as well as the mastermind of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA) and the Democratic Republican Party. For a long time he was the heir apparent to President Park, deriving his power and authority from this association as well as from Korea’s economic development. As fate would have it, all of these leaders are from different provinces. Thus, their past records combined with their regional ties, complete accidents of birth, have produced the potent mix of regionalism in Korean politics.

The irony is that before full democracy was restored these leaders had national political bases. Modernization or the struggle against dictatorial rule had nationwide appeal. But once democracy was restored, these powerful political leaders lacked distinguishing traits, except their regional identities. This is primarily because they have failed to present fresh party platforms or ideologically distinguishing marks, leaving their constituents very little upon which to base their voting decisions except for regional rivalry, which the Three Kims have done their utmost to encourage. Now the political futures of the Three Kims depend on their regional bases, which have become their political fiefdoms of sorts.

The Kim Dae Jung-Kim Jong Pil Alliance

In the current elections, the Three Kims are using their regional power bases to the fullest. Kim Dae Jung has a lock on the Cholla Province vote, which gives him the luxury of concentrating only on attracting voters from other regions. He does not even have to incite regionalism in any explicit manner. Everyone simply assumes that more than 90 percent of the Cholla Province votes are his. Kim Jong Pil, less secure about his base in Chungchong Province, nevertheless has enough political clout to tip the balance in favor of other candidates, such as Kim Dae Jung, who needs an increase of just 10 percent over the votes he can count on from Cholla to get elected. Indeed, the possible alliance between the two Kims has been one of the hottest topics of this campaign. The National Congress for New Politics (NCNP), led by Kim Dae Jung, and the United Liberal Democrats (ULD) have been engaged in negotiations for the past year or so on a single candidate and platform compromise. This most unlikely of alliances between a former dissident and the founder of the KCIA, notorious for its persecution of political dissidents, was finalized on October 27, with the formation of the DJP alliance—the acronym is formed by the initials of the politicians’ first names. They agreed on Kim Dae Jung as their joint presidential candidate and Kim Jong Pil as prime minister if they win. Moreover, they also agreed that midway through Kim Dae Jung’s term, the constitution will be changed to convert the current presidential system into a parliamentary one, something for which Kim Jong Pil has been pushing hard. This agreement, signed by the two Kims on November 3 with much fanfare, is one of the most glaring examples of the rather sorry state of South Korean presidential politics. The two Kims maintain that their alliance is the only way to effect a transfer of power from the government party to the opposition, something that has never happened in South Korean politics and that is badly needed for the consolidation of Korean democracy. This may well be the case. However, more to the point, it illustrates better than anything else that South Korean politics do not revolve around ideological or policy issues. Former nemeses can now join hands to attain the presidency and even change the constitution to fit their interests and ensure their political survival and longevity. What then of the other Kim, President Kim Young Sam?

The Failure of President Kim Young Sam’s Reform Politics

Another major factor in the 1997 election campaign is the fall of President Kim’s political fortune. Heralded by friends and foes alike as the first civilian president in over 30 years, a champion of democracy, and a master political strategist, President Kim came into office riding high on the hopes and goodwill of the people. Early in office President Kim enjoyed an astounding 92 percent nationwide approval rating, getting high marks even from Cholla Province, the political home base of his archrival Kim Dae Jung. He launched reform campaigns by lashing out at past abuses of power and corruption in the military, the bureaucracy, the business community, and the political establishment, and the people applauded his efforts. However, public sentiment soon began to turn against the president when it was perceived that he was being less than fair in some of his dealings, singling out his political opponents for punishment in the name of rooting out past misdeeds and corruption. Many thought that his decisions were made arbitrarily, based more on personal inclination than objective criteria. He also failed to follow up on his reform measures by institutionalizing them. Many had been implemented by fiat for maximum effect. As such, they had many unintended side effects that went unaddressed. Kim’s popularity began to plummet. People began to criticize him for his “imperial” style of governing, going so far as to call his administration a “civilian dictatorship.”

The final blows to President Kim’s popular standing came in late 1996 and early 1997. In December 1996, the president rammed through the National Assembly a labor law that had been strongly opposed by labor unions and the opposition parties. Confident that he had the necessary votes in his own party and seriously misreading public sentiment regarding his style of government, he had the lawmakers from his party meet at the National Assembly building at dawn one morning to pass the bill, which they did in less than 15 minutes. The opposition party, taken off guard, protested vehemently. Then the labor unions began calling for a nationwide strike. To the surprise and chagrin of the government, many responded. In a matter of days, the nation’s industries almost came to a standstill. The president retreated in disgrace. He nullified the law and agreed to formulate a new one in consultation with the opposition and the unions. His political clout had been seriously damaged.

The coup de grace, however, came in early 1997. In March the Hanbo Steel Company, a subsidiary of one of the largest chaebol, collapsed. The failure of the company had a chilling effect on the economy, which had already been slowing down for some time. Soon thereafter it was revealed that the company had been pushing ahead with the construction of a huge steel mill, a financial quagmire sustained by massive loans from major banks whose officials were being bribed by the company’s owner. The bureaucrats and business community began to brace themselves for yet another anti-corruption campaign conducted by the Blue House. However, it was then disclosed that some of President Kim’s closest political associates were implicated in the scandal. The trail of bribes led to one of the president’s top aides and confidants. This was followed by the revelation that the president’s son, Kim Hyun Chul, was also involved in soliciting illegal political funds from the chaebol, including Hanbo. The president’s political fate was sealed.

According to the latest polls, the president’s approval rating stands somewhere around 4 percent. He has become a lame duck in the truest sense. His various political and economic reforms are now roundly criticized for having been nothing more than personal vendettas against former political foes or, at best, reforms carried out without adequate thought or planning. It was under these circumstances that President Kim Young Sam had to begin preparations for the 1997 elections. Because the constitution limits him to a single term, it is not a matter of getting himself reelected. However, under normal circumstances the president, who is also the chairman of the ruling party, can exercise a great deal of influence on choosing the presidential candidate. Also, it is up to him to ensure a smooth transition of power within his own party, between himself and the nominee. President Kim’s circumstances, however, have not allowed him to exercise these influences. His loss of control over his own party is one of the most important factors contributing to the disarray within party ranks, which has resulted in the party candidate’s low standing in the polls.

The Lee Hoi Chang-Kim Young Sam Rift

Despite his weakened stature, or perhaps because of it, President Kim managed to oversee the first truly open and competitive nomination process within his party. Of nine candidates, two—Lee Hoi Chang and Rhee In Je—remained after the primary voting by party delegates in July. Lee Hoi Chang, 65, a former Supreme Court justice and prime minister, was considered to be a man of high integrity and moral principles as well as uncompromising in holding others to similar standards. Rhee In Je, 50, a political protege of President Kim and former lawmaker and minister of labor, had been elected governor of Kyonggi Province in 1995. Representing the new generation of politicians, Rhee was viewed as someone who would continue the strong reform policies initiated by President Kim. It came as a surprise to many observers of the primaries that Rhee came in second only to Lee, who had been building support for a long time, but it did confirm rumors of a ground swell of delegates for this young candidate who represented change.

In the tense runoff Lee won, receiving 60 percent of the vote. He was confirmed as the ruling party’s candidate and, in the wave of victory, his public approval ratings were the highest among all the contenders for the presidency, including Kim Dae Jung and Kim Jong Pil. It seemed that the election would be a competition between Lee and the two Kims, with Lee most likely to win. Because of Lee’s lack of a strong regional base (he is from Chungchong Province, but he also spent part of his youth in Cholla Province, eventually going to high school and university in Seoul) it was thought that his election would put an end to regionalism in South Korean politics. This hope was reinforced by the fact that none of the candidates represented Kyongsang Province, the bastion of the political establishment for the past three decades. Up to this point, South Korean politics seemed normal and predictable enough, even hopeful.

Then came the bombshell. The NCNP, led by Kim Dae Jung, made public the allegation that Lee’s two sons had evaded military service by falsifying their health records. Army health records showed that the two men did not enlist because they were both underweight. Given that one must weigh under 45 kilograms, far below Korean men’s average, to be eligible for exemption, it was alleged that Lee, who was a Supreme Court judge at the time, exerted pressure on military doctors to falsify his sons’ records. The allegation was almost impossible to prove or disprove. The damage, however, was done. Because military service is compulsory for all Korean men, the fact that Lee’s sons did not serve reflected a lack of patriotism, condoned by their father. The allegations hit Lee, perceived as a man of principles, where it hurt the most—his moral integrity. His approval ratings began to nosedive.

In order to shore up his tarnished image and standing in the polls, Lee tried many maneuvers. In September he announced that he would ask President Kim to pardon the two former presidents in jail. It was a move aimed at conservative voters in Kyongsang Province, the home of ex-presidents Chun and Roh. However, the move backfired when the Blue House issued a statement that it was considering no such action and that Lee should not have made the announcement without first consulting the president. Lee then demanded that the president hand over the chairmanship of the party earlier than planned. The president became irate over this, saying that he would hand Lee the reins of the party when he deemed appropriate. Lee, who felt snubbed, thought that President Kim was not fully backing his candidacy. Then in September Rhee In Je announced that he was leaving the party to run for the presidency on his own.

Meanwhile, others within the ruling party, including those who ran against Lee in the primaries, began to publicly question Lee’s leadership capabilities and political acumen. Facing increasing criticism both from within and outside the party, he tried another tactic. In October he had his aides leak documents and copies of bank statements allegedly showing that Kim Dae Jung had amassed and used massive slush funds, collected from former president Roh and heads of leading chaebol. Many initially felt that this would be the death knell for the senior politician. It was thought that once the prosecutor’s office began investigating these claims, Kim’s image would be tarnished beyond repair. After all, political slush funds were an open secret, and Kim Dae Jung had earlier confessed to receiving 2 billion won from former president Roh. The two former presidents were in jail precisely for maintaining such funds. However, to almost everyone’s surprise, the allegations had no effect whatsoever on Kim Dae Jung’s standing in the polls. Instead, they adversely affected Lee’s position as people criticized him for starting a smear campaign. Then the prosecutor general called a press conference to announce that the matter was not going to be investigated, since he thought that it would have too many political implications and would hurt the electoral process. Dubbed “maid of the powers that be,” the prosecutor’s office usually does the Blue House’s bidding. It was thought that the prosecutor general could not have acted independently without at least the tacit consent of the president.

Feeling isolated and thinking that Kim Young Sam was openly undermining him, Lee lashed out at the president. He demanded that the prosecutor’s office reverse its decision and that President Kim leave the party by giving up his honorary chairmanship. Furthermore, he called for an investigation of President Kim’s campaign finances during the 1992 elections. This was Lee’s last stand. He was trying to refurbish his image as champion of the “rule of law” by distancing himself from the corrupt political practices of the past in which all Three Kims, including the president, had been clearly implicated. It was a risky move as it meant severing all ties with his political patron, who, despite his weakened status, still wielded considerable power within the party.

Lee’s move brought immediate reaction within the party from the remaining followers of President Kim, who resigned as chairman in October, thereby allowing Lee to assume leadership of the party. On October 29 leading members of the president’s faction announced that they were leaving the party to form one of their own. The disintegration of the ruling New Korea Party (NKP), long foretold, has begun at last.

Rhee In Je and the Anti-DJP Alliance

While the ruling NKP has begun to unravel at the seams, Rhee In Je, one of the figures largely responsible for touching off the process, is riding high in public opinion polls, following Kim Dae Jung in a close second. Although blamed by some for having violated the rules of basic trust by leaving the party after losing in the primaries, he has something that all other candidates do not: youth. Having lived under the Three Kims for decades, many South Koreans are getting fed up with the same old figures dominating the political landscape. What attracts them is not so much the concrete policies, issues, or ideologies that Rhee In Je represents but the tantalizing possibility that the political old guard might be swept away in one fell swoop. In a society still greatly influenced by Confucian norms that value age and seniority, the older generation would be unable or unwilling to serve under such a youthful president.

Using this factor to his advantage, Rhee is calling for everyone to gather around his banner to fight against the old guard represented by Kim Dae Jung and Kim Jong Pil’s DJP alliance. Because Lee Hoi Chang is no longer viewed as a viable alternative to the Three Kims, Rhee In Je hopes that anyone opposed to the idea of the old guard continuing to rule South Korea will realize that he is their only hope. Given his standing in the polls, along with the lackluster performance of Lee Hoi Chang and Cho Soon, the fourth major candidate, he could actually win. If those remaining in the ruling NKP and others opposed to the DJP alliance unite behind a single candidate, there is a good chance that the old guard will be defeated. Of course, both Lee and Cho are thinking the same way.

In early November Rhee In Je became the official candidate of a new party, the New Party for the People, which he formed with the help of four defectors from the NKP. For the first time National Assembly members have endorsed Lee, giving political weight to his popularity. No sooner than this announcement was made did Lee and Cho begin floating rumors about a merger. Should they join, a likely scenario at this writing, whoever is chosen as their coalition’s candidate will be a strong contender as well. At this point, the election is shaping up to be a three-way race, in which case yet another phase in the 1997 elections may open.

Conclusion

For students of South Korean politics, let alone casual or occasional observers, the 1997 presidential election campaign has been as confusing as it has been fascinating. The final outcome is still anything but clear. Kim Dae Jung has a commanding lead in the polls up to this point, but many things can still happen, and anyone who knows “DJ’s” standing in South Korean politics and the kind of diverse emotions that he can set off will hesitate to place full bets on him. This is not to say that there is a clear alternative. Indeed, one of the main reasons that Kim Dae Jung has been so popular is that there just does not seem to be a viable alternative at this point.

However, as this essay has attempted to show, the 1997 elections are important to analyze for reasons other than to see who will get elected. The election will be another watershed in the history of South Korean politics. It will be the first time that Koreans go to the polls to select a president secure in the knowledge that the process will be completely free of undue influence from the military and security apparatuses, that the election will be free and fair. Moreover, despite recent troubles, the fundamentals of the South Korean economy are still sound. The North Korean threat is still there, but given recent events, such as the prompt release of two South Korean farmers who were abducted by North Korean troops along the Demilitarized Zone, national security should not pose an immediate problem for now. Clearly, South Koreans are in a situation far more comfortable and secure than any other in living memory.

Indeed, the confusion surrounding the election is more a symptom of the “crisis of success” than anything else. The lost sense of direction experienced by South Koreans these days arises from the fact that the nation has been more successful than almost any other in attaining rapid economic growth, democracy, and national security. Maybe having all one’s dreams come true is not such a wonderful thing.

Of course, this is not to say that South Korea’s work is done by any means. For the immediate future, the economy should be awakened from its recent doldrums. In the longer term, reunification still poses the greatest challenge ever faced by the Korean people. In order to meet these goals, which will truly secure the Korean people a bright future, politics must be sound, providing vision and leadership. In that sense, the 1997 elections in South Korea show that indeed much work remains to be done.

 

Foreign Policy for a New Administration
by Robert A. Scalapino

The uncertainties in South Korean politics in autumn 1997 come close to rivaling those of the Korean state to the North. Not only is it impossible to predict the winner of the December 18 presidential election, it remains unclear as to the precise number of candidates who will remain in the race to the end. Four individuals were declared contestants as of early November: Lee Hoi Chang, Kim Dae Jung, Rhee In Je, and Cho Soon. A number of others had dropped out, but their endorsements were not yet fully determined.

Thus far, the issues have been strongly personal, concentrating on assessments of each candidate’s character and integrity. If public opinion polls are accurate, party label is of minimal importance, no candidate has a strong lead, and many voters are undecided. Policy issues are gradually entering the scene, but, with the exception of the crucial North Korea question, they are overwhelmingly domestic: economic reform and appropriate policies to combat recent economic ills; a possible move to parliamentarism; and the legacy of scandal and corruption that has touched prominent politicians, bureaucrats, and figures in the business world. The issue of whether to pardon the two past presidents convicted of assorted offenses and now in detention also has been raised, but it appears that pardons will be postponed until after the election.

In the background, moreover, lies the omnipresent force of regionalism, a factor that has long dominated Korean politics. Can any candidate acquire a truly national image, or will that be at a later point in Korean history?

In this scene, foreign policy has thus far played a negligible role. On the key issue of policies toward the North, President Kim Young Sam himself has wavered, sometimes taking a hard-line position, other times displaying a willingness to extend a helping hand to the economically stricken North and urging early dialogue. His fluctuations are in considerable measure a reflection of the deep cleavages within the NKP and, indeed, within the nation on this issue. Moreover, his position has not been made easier by the fierce, unrelenting personal attacks on him launched from Pyongyang.

Lee, the NKP candidate, has a reputation of being supportive of a more flexible policy, but he has not spoken on the issue at length as yet. Kim Dae Jung has spelled out his proposals for a staged peaceful unification at length in a recent book (“Three-Stage” Approach to Korean Reunification: Focusing on the South-North Confederal Stage). He has long stood for efforts at reconciliation, and hard-liners have unfairly charged him with being soft on communism. His party was made uncomfortable by the defection to the North in August 1997 of Oh Ik Je, former head of the indigenous religious sect, Chondogyo. Oh had served as religious affairs adviser of Kim’s party, the National Congress for New Politics, until May. But he was also on the Presidential Advisory Council on Democratic and Peaceful Unification until June.

Given the likelihood of an increasingly bitter campaign, can the South’s politicians present a relatively united front on policies regarding the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) so as to encourage Pyongyang’s progressive moves toward dialogue and discourage any efforts by Pyongyang to influence the election? In any case, the North has repeatedly signaled that it will not deal with Kim Young Sam, indicating that there is little likelihood of a summit meeting before December, although Kim Jong Il, son of the late DPRK leader Kim Il Sung, has now assumed the office of general secretary of the Korean Workers’ Party.

When one surveys the key aspects of the Republic of Korea’s (ROK) foreign policy beyond the Korean peninsula, the tasks ahead seem formidable, despite the major gains of recent years and irrespective of who is president. Beginning with the Roh Tae Woo administration, South Korea launched an effort to broaden its international ties. Known as the Nordpolitik policy, the principal aim was to achieve diplomatic relations with Russia and China. Aided by the international developments of the early 1990s, this policy scored great success. Meanwhile, South Korea’s mounting economic strength enabled it to extend its reach in Asia and elsewhere. Close at hand, Natural Economic Territories (NETs), economic entities that cut across political boundaries, combining resources, manpower, capital, technology, and managerial skills, emerged. The ROK—Shandong peninsula NET was a prominent example, gradually expanding into Jilin Province.

These accomplishments testified to the changing nature of the cold war alliances. In earlier times, when ideological cleavages were deep, such alliances as that between the ROK and the United States were relatively exclusive in nature and partook strongly of a patron-client relationship. The U.S. provided assurances of security (after the Korean War) and economic assistance in various forms; South Korea pledged political allegiance, albeit not without periodic difficulties. Today, all alliances are more flexible, permitting various international relationships and independent political judgments.

It is in this context that the issues and choices facing a new ROK administration in 1998 should be viewed. Perhaps it is appropriate to start with the status of relations with the United States, since this remains South Korea’s most crucial external tie, whether the measure be that of security, economics, or politics.

The United States

To draw up a balance sheet on the South Korean—American relationship is a more complex task than some might assume. To be sure, the positive side of the ledger is substantial. Starting with perceptions, most Americans, while not well informed, have a far more favorable image of South Korea than at times in the past. Generally, the ROK is perceived as a success story today. To rapid economic growth has been added political liberalization. Some of the darker side of Korean politics and the recent economic woes have received coverage in the U.S. media, but the overall appraisal for those Americans who care is that of a dynamic, thriving society.

On the Korean side, the picture is more mixed. While a substantial majority of Koreans favor the continuance of the U.S.-ROK security alliance, anti-Americanism has grown, particularly among younger generations. In part, this is a product of highly publicized offenses committed by American servicemen. In larger measure, however, it comes from the combination of nagging differences over a range of specific issues, especially economic conflicts, and the recent rise of Korean nationalism. The latter development has strengthened the desire to cast off the role of client and achieve a greater equality, including a full share in decision making, especially on such critical issues as policies toward North Korea.

With respect to rising nationalism, South Korea is at one with other East Asian societies—and with the United States as well. Ours is a time when three partially conflictual forces are rising simultaneously: internationalism, nationalism, and communalism—the last revolving around stronger ethnic consciousness, deeper religious affiliation, or more intense localist identification in various forms.

In economic matters, the U.S.-ROK relationship has had both its positive and its troublesome aspects. Despite a series of economic problems and some slippage in growth, South Korea attracted a record $3.2 billion in foreign investment in 1996, and the United States was the source of the highest amount, nearly $880 million. Korean firms invested more than $1.5 billion in the U.S. that year. The ROK’s gross national product increased 7.1 percent, although estimates for 1997 suggest a growth decline to around 6 percent or possibly less.

Like Japan—with whose economic structure it shares certain essential elements—South Korea illustrates the fact that no economic strategy, however successful, is good for all time. The policies of extensive governmental guidance and support of select sectors of the economy, pervasive protectionism, and vigorous export orientation were extraordinarily effective in sustaining rapid growth over three decades. But now, if greater competitiveness in the international marketplace is to be achieved and financial imprudence at home is to be corrected, significant changes must be undertaken. A combination of deregulation, regulatory reform, market opening, and reduction of production costs is essential. The Korean economy is not in mortal peril, but it is ailing and needs creative actions. Initially, the Kim administration took steps to reduce restrictions and open the market. However, ensuing economic problems sharply curtailed such measures.

In this setting, and with the current account (trade in goods and services) deficit high, albeit declining somewhat, U.S. demands for swifter moves toward market opening and stricter enforcement of the anti-dumping code have met with growing unhappiness. Two-way trade in 1996 was more than $55 billion, with the trade balance in favor of the United States, and in the first half of 1997 the U.S. surplus rose, with exports to Korea totaling $13.55 billion and imports $10.9 billion. Korean import duties now stand at 8 percent, it might be noted, with U.S. duties averaging 2.5 percent.

Antagonized by the fact that three of the five cases brought by the United States to the World Trade Organization (WTO) have related to South Korea, the ROK government filed a complaint with the WTO on July 10 accusing the United States of imposing unfair anti-dumping charges in the case of Korean TVs. The U.S. Commerce Department had also applied sanctions against two semiconductor companies because of dumping allegations. Since early August, bilateral negotiations have been ongoing regarding the charges of television dumping, with 60 days allotted for an agreement before the matter is submitted to the WTO Dispute Settlement Body. Discussions relating to the opening of the Korean automobile market have also been initiated.

Earlier, an ROK-backed “frugality campaign,” aimed at reducing imports, was launched. Naturally, the United States, along with other trading partners, was unhappy, and it was pointed out that consumer products accounted for only 11 percent of total ROK imports in 1996, with the great bulk of imports being a wide range of industrial and military equipment. Irrespective of who is elected president, these issues will remain, but the figures make it clear that the ROK-U.S. economic relationship is vital to both nations.

There are also some complex problems relating to military modernization. At one point, the United States was concerned that the ROK might go beyond the 1979 agreement restricting it from building long-range missiles, but after discussions, American authorities pronounced themselves more reassured. However, the ROK has strongly desired advanced surface-to-air missiles, and earlier had a number of discussions with Russia regarding possible purchases. The United States was worried about the interoperability of such weapons, namely, the inability of Russian-derived missiles to distinguish between friend and enemy. Thus, it warned against such purchases except for testing purposes, and shortly thereafter agreed to sell to the ROK highly effective shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missiles. Yet ROK authorities have insisted on keeping certain options open.

Meanwhile, the issue of policies toward the North remains a delicate matter. If the DPRK collapses in the near term, the costs for the ROK will be prodigious—multibillions for economic needs and, beyond this, the difficult matter of finding a way to interact politically with a people who have only known isolation, deep antagonism toward the South, and a hard authoritarian system.

Although the early-collapse scenario seems less likely than others, it demands detailed planning and close consultation between the ROK and the U.S. An alternative scenario, that of gradual deterioration with rising discord among elites in the North, could be more dangerous, especially if the aid of external sources is solicited. The possibility of the DPRK regime hunkering down, with minimal change and extensive military control, poses other problems, particularly since the end of this road would almost certainly be upheaval in some form. Yet another scenario, that of conflict initiated by a desperate North, although probably less likely than some have asserted, also requires careful monitoring and adequate preparation.

The current effort, however, is to promote a fifth scenario, that of seeking an evolutionary path whereby the DPRK would undertake economic reforms, enabling its economy to improve and greater interaction with the neighboring region to develop. This is the only scenario that has the support of all the major powers, as well as a majority of South Koreans. Yet progress toward this end has been uneven and uncertain, primarily because of DPRK attitudes and actions but also owing to the past ambivalence of the ROK.

The Seoul government—or part of that government—was not happy with the U.S.-DPRK negotiations that led to the October 1994 Framework Agreement, despite the fact that Washington insisted that Seoul was being kept fully informed at every stage of development. In the agreement itself, despite the North’s desires, the South was given a central role (along with the principal financial responsibility) in the proposed construction of a light water reactor in North Korea.

Dedicated to that goal, the Korean Peninsula Energy Development Organization (KEDO) program has gone forward, with ground-breaking ceremonies taking place on August 19, 1997. South Korean engineers and technicians have entered the North for the first time, and South Korean authorities assert that by 2000, between 5,000 and 7,000 South Korean workers will be on site. Further, two ROK diplomats took up posts in the KEDO office in Sinpo on July 28, 1997, marking the first such development in the history of the two Koreas. Moreover, to facilitate communications, a direct phone line connecting the site with Seoul was established in early August, the only other “hot line” being that between the Red Cross societies of the two nations. Completion of the project is currently scheduled for 2004, with costs now estimated at between $3.3 and $5 billion. Disputes over cost allocation continue, with the ROK and Japan expected to shoulder the bulk of the expenses.

The KEDO program together with modest South Korean business investments in the DPRK and increasing North-South trade, if continued, promise a growing southern presence in the North’s economy, whatever its future. Gradually, ROK restrictions on economic intercourse with the DPRK have been relaxed. In turn, the North has recently made certain overtures to the South. For example, a small group of ROK journalists was allowed to visit the DPRK in mid-1997 without being accompanied by officials for the first time. Further, after a border clash in July 1997, the DPRK promised to give advance notice of reconnaissance activities within the Demilitarized Zone. Now that Kim Jong Il has assumed the top party post, a new phase in DPRK politics and external relations may be inaugurated, with possible implications for North-South relations. In any case, many issues regarding those relations remain to be settled. These include the need to return to the 1991 agreement on official dialogues covering a range of issues, including visits by divided families and moves in the military realm such as demilitarization of the Demilitarized Zone.

Meanwhile, although the U.S. and the ROK are now generally agreed on the desirability of a “soft landing” for the North, and the U.S. has been insistent in its talks with DPRK officials that a regularized North-South dialogue must precede any normalization of relations, there will continue to be delicate issues between the two governments relating to full disclosure, ratio of incentives and deterrents, and timing of moves. Naturally, the DPRK can be expected to relish U.S.-ROK rifts. For the South, it uses such epithets as “puppet,” while seeking for itself a much fuller range of assistance from the United States. Its intransigence—or bargaining techniques—make advances tortuous. For example, its recent insistence that U.S. troop withdrawal from Korea be placed on the agenda of peace treaty talks is guaranteed to retard progress at this point.

Despite recurrent problems on the North Korean and other issues, the relationship between South Korea and the United States is fundamentally strong. Support for the security alliance is solid in both nations, and no Korean presidential candidate or political party is likely to change course on this matter in any basic fashion. In the event of conflict, the U.S. commitment is clear and will remain so. This is not 1950, and Pyongyang authorities are well aware of that fact. Moreover, the campaign to get American forces out of Korea has no chance of success until major changes in the situation have taken place.

Perhaps it is not too early to consider the course of Korean-American relations after reunification, although such an event is not likely to take place in the next ROK administration unless the DPRK collapses. When and how reunification takes place will naturally determine the options available, at least in the short term. In any case, three variables are likely to be crucial: the attitude and policies of a reunified Korean government; the attitude and policies of the American people and government; and the power configuration in East Asia as well as the views of the major nations, especially China.

Historically, Korea has had three broad options with respect to foreign policy: isolation; alignment with one major society to offset others; and a balance of power effort, seeking basically positive relations with every important society involved in the region. Isolation, frequently employed in the past, is not viable in the modern world as the sorry plight of the DPRK so clearly demonstrates. Alliance has served the ROK well, and interestingly, despite the DPRK public position, some North Koreans have whispered to Americans from time to time that a U.S. strategic presence in the region under proper conditions would not necessarily be opposed.

Nevertheless, a combination of strategies—alignment with the United States accompanied by a strategy of seeking harmonious relations with all other major nations, the course signaled at present by the ROK—might survive reunification. The presence of U.S. troops on Korean soil would not necessarily be required under such a strategy at some point in the future, except for a few technical experts. We are entering the era of post-modern military tactics with dependence on information technology, long-range weaponry, and mobile platforms. Yet perceptions of national interests in the United States will be equally important to those in Korea in determining whether such a course is feasible. For the near future, however, the ROK-U.S. relationship will remain solid, with areas of cooperation based on mutual interests outweighing differences, with the latter kept to manageable proportions through regularized consultation and negotiation, both bilateral and multilateral. Without exception, the presidential candidates have indicated either publicly or privately that ties to the United States remain critical to ROK security and growth.

China

Turning to ROK relations with China, the basic trends have been favorable from Seoul’s perspective, especially in the economic sphere. According to Chinese statistics, ROK-PRC trade reached nearly $20 billion in 1996, a 300 percent increase over 1992, making China the third-largest trading partner with the ROK after the United States and Japan. Further, the trade balance was favorable to Korea. Moreover, direct investment in China by South Korean firms totaled more than $11.5 billion in contracts, with $4.3 billion actually committed. While these investments initially involved mainly small and medium firms seeking lower labor costs, increasingly, large-scale enterprises, technology-intensive in nature, have entered China.

As noted, economic relations between South Korea and Shandong Province have flourished, with an expansion northward from this NET. Another significant economic factor in the ROK-PRC relationship has been the fishing industry. Given the contested atolls and maritime waters, the determination of Exclusive Economic Zones (EEZ) cannot be reached soon. Hence, the Chinese have proposed provisional fisheries agreements pending a later settlement, and the ROK agreed to negotiate the matter, while continuing the talks. Meanwhile, Seoul has complained strongly about illegal fishing by Chinese in Korean waters, and the PRC has pledged cooperation in seeking to halt such activities.

On the political front, as might be expected, ROK-PRC relations are more restrained. Yet here, too, changes have taken place. Beginning with Beijing’s decision in 1991 that it would not block the ROK’s quest to enter the United Nations, followed by the establishment of diplomatic relations between the two states, China moved to a two-Koreas policy. And while periodically proclaiming its staunch friendship with the North, privately Chinese officials have been increasingly critical of the DPRK system, especially the reluctance of the North’s leaders to undertake economic changes. In earlier years, visiting North Koreans were taken on tours of China’s Special Economic Zones and exposed to other aspects of Deng Xiaoping’s new program. The response was vastly slower and less extensive than Beijing regarded as necessary; there were also political aspects of the reclusive northern regime that evoked Chinese disdain.

In attitude, Pyongyang has reciprocated. Privately, DPRK officials indicate their lack of trust in China despite the fact that with the collapse of the USSR, the North’s economic dependence on the PRC has greatly increased.

With respect to the central issue, that of North-South relations, China has been helpful, although it insists that it has limited influence on Pyongyang. Beijing wants neither a nuclear nor a collapsed North, and it certainly does not want another Korean war. Hence, it has urged negotiations and agreed to participate in the proposed four-party dialogue now so tentatively under way. It has also provided substantial relief supplies to the DPRK.

It is clear that the PRC would not desire a reunified Korea under Seoul’s command. That would push the ROK to the Chinese border, and China has some 700,000 Chinese Koreans on its side of the Yalu River. Korean nationalism might be rekindled in that group. Thus, China’s perceived interests are strongly in the maintenance of two Korean states. If, however, despite its desires, early Korean reunification takes place, China will probably oppose a continued U.S. military presence on the peninsula, at least for any protracted period. Whether it would oppose a continuance of a U.S.-ROK security agreement sans in-country U.S. forces might depend on the status of both Korea-China and U.S.-China relations, but a negative attitude is likely.

If the North strikes again at the South militarily, or perhaps more likely, if a factional dispute among the DPRK elite causes one group to turn to Beijing for support, China will face a serious dilemma. Thus, it is very probable that in one form or another, Chinese authorities have conveyed admonitions against conflict to Pyongyang.

China is becoming a major power with major problems. All small nations in its vicinity must be constantly alert both to domestic trends in this huge society as well as to its foreign policies. Korea—united or divided—like other Asian societies, hopes for a positive U.S.-PRC relationship because only under those conditions can its own security be strengthened. In addition, each of the presidential candidates has indicated a strong desire to foster good relations between the ROK and China.

Japan

Japan is another powerful nation close to the Korean peninsula, and one that has been intimately connected with Korea throughout much of the twentieth century. Despite that ROK-Japan diplomatic relations were established more than three decades ago in 1965, overall relations have remained delicate at best. The legacy of Japanese imperialism is kept alive in a variety of ways, and ethnic prejudices are deeply implanted on both sides. Specific issues, moreover, have further clouded the atmosphere.

On the economic front, relations are important but troubled. Japanese investment, contrary to that of the United States and the European Union, has fallen in the recent past. Korea also complains vigorously about its trade deficit with Japan, which amounted to some $6 billion in the first half of 1997, according to Korean figures. The depreciation of the Japanese yen, moreover, has affected the competitiveness of Korean exports in such all-important fields as automobiles and electronics. Not surprisingly, Korea along with others is demanding a more open Japanese market. High Japanese tariffs on such products as textiles and footwear irritate Korea. In turn Japan urges Korea to end restrictions on Japanese goods under the import diversification system.

Fishery issues constitute another point of contention. Japan has been urging the revision of the 1965 bilateral fishing agreement and on July 20, 1996, established an EEZ. No bilateral negotiations on these matters are under way. Meanwhile, Japanese authorities have seized a number of South Korean fishing boats, charging them with violations of Japanese territorial waters and evoking sharp protests from Seoul.

At the same time, the acrimony over Tokdo (Tokushima) Island in the East Sea (Sea of Japan) has aroused nationalist ardor on both sides. A pier has been built by Korean sources on the site, with a strong Japanese protest rebuffed. On a neighboring island, Ullung, a Tokdo Museum, symbolic of Korean determination on this matter, has been erected.

Meanwhile, the legacy of the past is being kept alive by many events. Recently, for example, an elderly Korean woman given the appellation Grandma Hun returned to Korea from Cambodia, having been taken there by the Japanese army some 55 years earlier as a “comfort woman” for soldiers. Her story was widely publicized in the Korean media, with the charge that some 200,000 women, most of them Koreans, were taken to Southeast Asia and the Pacific Islands to serve as prostitutes, with no compensation forthcoming and only a handful (reportedly 158) still alive in Korea.

In mid-July 1997, in an effort to reach a common view of the two nations’ past, a joint history project was initiated, with Korean and Japanese scholars seeking an agreed-on assessment of the colonial era and World War II. The results of their work will certainly be of interest if consensus can be reached on key matters.

Naturally, Seoul watches trends in Japan-DPRK relations closely. It is well aware that the North has received the great bulk of foreign remittances from Japanese Koreans with relatives in the DPRK, most of them members of the pro-North General Federation of Koreans in Japan (Chochongnyon). Investments in the DPRK also continue to come from this source despite declines owing to unhappiness with developments there. Japan’s periodic negotiations with North Korean authorities have had minimal results so far, although an agreement for limited visitations to Japan by Japanese wives living in the DPRK has been reached, and Japan finally has agreed to provide some food aid. Japan insists that it will not move ahead of the ROK and the United States in its relations with the DPRK, but Seoul will continue to watch the situation closely. Recently, certain legislators from Japan’s leading party, the Liberal Democratic Party, urged that Japan and the DPRK exchange liaison missions in their respective capitals.

Korean authorities have signaled their concern surrounding any expansion of Japanese security commitments. In connection with the proposed revision of the 1978 U.S.-Japan defense guidelines, Seoul had announced that it hoped the two countries would consult with it and seek its agreement on changes, with full transparency maintained in connection with the proceedings. The ROK further stated that it would never accept the engagement of Japan’s self-defense forces in combat on Korean territory.

It is clear that despite recent high-level meetings and calls by individuals such as President Kim Young Sam for closer relations between the ROK and Japan, these relations will continue to be subject to periodic troubles, and public attitudes in both countries will provide little support for closer ties. Insofar as Korea is concerned, virtually the only agreement between South and North lies in their mutual suspicion of Japan. At the same time, however, economic relations with Japan remain very important to the ROK, and they may become important to the DPRK. In the KEDO project, Japan is expected to play a major role as a funder. Thus, Korean interests dictate efforts to reach some accommodation on conflictual issues. As might be expected, the issue of relations with Japan has been treated in a cautious fashion by the presidential candidates thus far, with virtually no mention of it in public discourse.

Russia

With Korea’s third big neighbor, the Russian Federation, relations have generally improved. On a four-day visit to Seoul in late July 1997, Russian foreign minister Yevgeny Primakov urged the upholding of the Korean Armistice pending the adoption of a peace treaty, expressed hope for a peaceful reunification, called for direct dialogue between South and North, and supported four-party peace talks while expressing the desire that these would be expanded into an international conference at an appropriate time, with Russia included.

These remarks were entirely in line with South Korean views. Further, an agreement was reached to hold a regular Korea-Russia dialogue, and there is the possibility of a Yeltsin visit to Seoul in fall 1997, when he visits China. It was agreed, meanwhile, to establish a direct telephone line between the two presidents.

The discussions with Primakov were made more meaningful because Russian efforts to improve relations with the DPRK have achieved few results thus far. Pyongyang regards Moscow as a traitor to the socialist cause and an ally who deserted the DPRK with dire consequences. In truth China handled its transition to a two-Koreas policy much more suavely. Moreover, Russia cannot afford major relief supplies for the DPRK, and recent efforts by Pyongyang to obtain Russian military equipment appear to have been unavailing because the DPRK has no funds to pay for such equipment. Seoul, meanwhile, has accepted a small amount of Russian weaponry in exchange for unpaid debts.

Korean trade and investment in the Russian Federation remain modest because of the troubled nature of the Russian economy. The Korean private sector, however, has shown some interest in the Russian Far East, and unquestionably, if economic conditions improve there and elsewhere in the Russian Federation, certain Korean firms will move swiftly, being greater risk takers than many others. Daewoo, for example, recently signed an agreement to export electronic switching systems to a city in Rostov Province, seeing this as an opportunity to set up a base in the region.

In sum, there are good reasons to believe that the ROK will continue to hold an edge over the DPRK with respect to relations with Moscow, despite Russia’s hopes that it can restore a genuine two-Koreas policy so as to provide it with greater leverage in the region. Economic factors as well as political conditions seem likely to keep DPRK-Russian relations to a very modest level. Meanwhile, ROK relations with Russia will certainly expand if the Russian economy begins to move forward. Even in the strategic field, Russia might provide a certain balance to Japan and China, especially given its still sizable forces in the Russian Far East. As is the case with other matters relating to foreign policy, ROK-Russian Federation relations have received scant attention in the current campaign, but the few references to Moscow have been positive.

Challenges for a New Administration

In conclusion, what is the broad direction of ROK foreign policy that the new president will inherit? The most obvious factor is the continuance of the alliance with the United States. However, there is some concern in Seoul that the U.S. may seek to transfer greater responsibilities to Japan and gradually decrease its own presence. Hence, the efforts to acquire modern weapons and to establish a stronger independent security capacity have been stepped up in the recent past.

With respect to China, the thrust will be toward expanding economic ties of all types. In addition, China’s support will be solicited with respect to South-North issues, with the hope that China’s interests will dictate policies that encourage the reform-minded, moderate forces in the DPRK and discourage those who want to pursue a militant stance.

The approach to Japan is likely to be that of seeking correct relations, with a lower tension level, but without making major concessions on territorial or other issues. Japan is acknowledged to be economically crucial, in connection not only with bilateral relations but in such ventures as KEDO. And if the DPRK collapsed, Japan’s assistance would be vital. Potentially, moreover, Japan can be important in influencing the policies of the other major states. However, Korea does not want to see Japan assume the role of an independent military power, and that position is not likely to change.

ROK expectations with respect to Russia have been rising recently. In addition to the hope for rapidly expanding economic intercourse, Seoul sees Moscow as a power that will sooner or later return to the Northeast Asian scene with greater political and strategic importance. It wants to make certain that the Russian tilt is toward the South pending Korean reunification.

Meanwhile, ROK economic and political relations with the countries of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) will continue to expand, and to be sure, South Korea will take an influential role on occasion in promoting regionwide economic and political-strategic programs through the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation forum and the ASEAN Regional Forum.

Thus, the ROK president who takes office in 1998 will face a vastly strengthened international position for South Korea in comparison with earlier times. Indeed, the situation has improved noticeably from the time when Kim Young Sam came to that office five years ago. Nonetheless, Korean foreign policy may be presented with significant challenges in the course of the next five years. Relations among and between the major powers remain uncertain, and in some cases, delicate. Moreover, the intentions of these powers are unclear, at least from the perspective of a small nation in the vortex of their strategic orbit. While economic trends generally hold promise, contentious issues in this realm will not disappear. Military modernization will advance, and although well short of an arms race, it will pose new questions about the course to be taken by the ROK, with trends in the DPRK and in American foreign policy being two crucial variables.

In the most basic sense, however, security for South Korea begins at home. If the more serious economic problems can be remedied, if an advance can be made from region-centered to national politics, and if the image of Korean politics can be improved among the Korean people, the Republic of Korea will be strong.

 

Presidential Elections and the Rooting of Democracy
by David I. Steinberg

Since 1987 presidential elections have been the defining political moments in Korea. Although local elections may be more illustrative of the democratic process, for it is that level at which citizens are in intimate contact with their government and gauge its effectiveness, presidential elections command more attention because of the nature of Korean political culture. The Korean president has been half king, half chief executive. The cabinet has been his plaything, changeable at his whim; the legislature to date at most a modest thorn in his side. His phalanx of staff in the Blue House (the presidential residence) rarely questions his decisions. In his society he is far more powerful than the president of the United States is in his. There is no vice president in Korea.

Since the formation of the First Republic in 1948, Korea has regularly held presidential elections, despite a student revolution in 1960 and two military coups in 1961 and 1979. Sometimes these elections were travesties of the democratic electoral process—procedural exercises rigged to produce administratively dictated results. In 1963 they were virtually forced on a regime that did not want to hold them by the United States for international public relations purposes. South Korea is now ruled under what is called the Sixth Republic, reflecting six major changes in the constitution. These alterations have fundamentally affected how elections for the presidency are held, who elects the president and for how long, and what the powers of that office and more generally the bureaucracy, which is controlled by the president, are.

Presidential elections in Korea until 1987 were virtually meaningless, since the winner was clearly foreshadowed. They provided the window dressing for any regime that needed good international public relations, and they all did as dictatorial Korea strove to be known as a part of the “free world.” But in another, less obvious, sense, they were profoundly important. Although they had been mandated by the external image that Korea, echoed by the United States, was trying to portray to the outside world as a democratic state, they were cumulatively creating a climate and acceptance of procedures and developing what became a clearly felt need for holding such events and dispelling the cynicism that had become attached to the process. Presidential elections could not be ignored by even the most dictatorial regime. Not holding elections could be justified only by a national emergency of profound consequences, such as another peninsular war. Thus, in a sense, political substance followed political form.

In a number of instances, Korea has moved, inadvertently and sometimes against the best laid plans of the leadership, in more democratic directions from which there is no return to older, more autocratic, practices. The year 1987 was pivotal for Korea: The nature of the political process and the future of domestic politics changed. But change was forced on a government reluctant to give up control over both the presidential nomination process, which was through a heavily controlled and carefully selected number of delegates, and the indirect election of the chief executive through a similarly managed group.

Responding to an incipient civil rebellion welling in the streets of Seoul and to the admonitions by the United States to avoid any military action, such as martial law or garrison decree, the dictatorial government of President Chun Doo Hwan agreed to a set of liberalizations of the political process as articulated on June 29 by his designated successor, Roh Tae Woo. These included the direct election of the president by the whole electorate, a freer press, and other rights written into the revised constitution. Although presented as a magnanimous gesture by the government, these liberalizations were in fact virtually forced on the government by public opinion. What started as a student campaign had become a widespread movement involving the middle class. It paralleled the end of the Marcos regime in the Philippines in 1986, when the Makati business community joined the anti-Marcos camp.

Although political campaign financing had been murky and enormous funds illegally transferred, largely in cash, Roh Tae Woo and the government party won that election, but not because it was fixed. Rather, the leading opposition candidates, each with a concept of personalized power, could not agree to form a united front and thus split the opposition vote allowing Roh to win on a plurality.

The 1992 election, the financing of which has not yet been explained and which brought Kim Young Sam to power, was a fair election that saw the first return to true civilian control in over 30 years; it was not a military regime in mufti. Kim ran on the government party ticket after having been in opposition all of his political life. Although many regarded this act as inappropriate, President Kim had the highest popularity rating of any president in Korean history shortly after his inauguration. The general population was overjoyed by the political progress that had been made, and the election was greeted with great acclaim.

Two other unplanned events have taken place since that have inadvertently moved the political process forward. The first was the unanticipated effects of holding local elections for governors, mayors, and county chiefs, as well as councils at each administrative level, for the first time since 1960. Although touted as “local autonomy,” and mandated by the revised and liberalized constitution of 1987, this was essentially a misnomer, because real power still rested at the center. For every elected chief executive, there was an appointed deputy; the judicial, police, and other powers emanated from the Ministry of Home Affairs or other central authorities, and fiscal autonomy was severely limited. Yet this very fact of holding local elections will likely cause a welcome and important change in the political process. Not only will local authorities have to account to their constituents, as expected, but political parties at the center will no longer be able to mobilize the type of mass support that once was standard in such elections nor, and even more important for the future, will they retain the capacity to pick candidates for local elections at the virtual whim of the chair, for many have local constituencies that are no longer dependent on the center. This unanticipated result will strengthen democratic procedures within political parties, which are still among the weakest links in the political process.

The most recent unanticipated action that will affect the democratic process was the failure of President Kim Young Sam, whose administration had become discredited through endemic charges of corruption, to select in July 1997 his nominee as the government party’s presidential candidate. For the first time in Korean history there was an open political convention by the government’s party. This event may have both immediate and long-term implications, particularly on those in office when a new government is elected (a designated successor might help protect an incumbent). From now on it will be extremely difficult to have the nominating convention dictated by the Blue House, although the incumbent’s influence will still be important. This diffusion of power bodes well for a more democratic future.

Thus, progress at the local level, the cornerstone of the democratic process, and in the parties has been quite evident and important in recent Korean history.

The Rooting of Democracy

How deeply rooted, then, are these democratic processes and procedures that have become a part of the Korean political scene, and what has prompted their development? What of the political culture?

Much of the established wisdom, especially in the United States, is that pluralistic economic systems of private enterprise lead to pluralistic political systems. Sometimes this process is, incorrectly or simplistically, attributed to Korea. There seems little doubt that over the long term private sector economic growth does put pressures on political systems to become more open, transparent, and responsive. During much of the era of the republics, the government, through complete and subsequently major control of the institutionalized credit systems and manipulation of corporate leadership, was able to impose its will on the economy and the large chaebol, or conglomerates, which indeed it helped to create to serve state purposes. If the export drive is calculated from the coup of 1961, then it took 26 years for political liberalization. (In Taiwan, it took even longer—from 1949 to 1992.) Rather than private sector causes, there were other complex factors at play in the rooting of democracy, although in Korea the private sector was not irrelevant and will be expected to play a far more active role in politics.

One important element was urbanization, not just the increased incomes and sophistication of an electorate, but also the very fact of urbanization itself. In 1961, when Park Chung Hee launched his coup, Korea was only 25 percent urban. With complete control over institutional credit, the ability to subsidize rice production and control producer prices through government purchases, and close surveillance of the rural population, the state had a firm grip over the hinterland. As a result virtually no opposition politicians from rural constituencies were elected to the National Assembly, which was weighted toward the rural sector in any case. By the late 1980s the population had become 75 percent urban. The election of opposition political candidates from major metropolitan areas, even their political domination of some of these urban areas, was long-standing. With urbanization went loss of government control over the political process.

This loss of control was only partly a result of a lack of dependence on government-controlled credit. It was prompted by a variety of important factors, such as the rise in levels of urban education, the growth and availability of foreign and domestic information, and the increase in incomes along with the development of a real middle class that was calculated in the late 1980s at about 55 percent. Changes in other countries also were not lost on Korea; the Philippines’ “people power revolution” of 1986 was, if not a model, an inspiration. Park Chung Hee had had offensive news in the foreign press inked out by hand and suppressed local news reporting on foreign revolutions, but new and widespread technology made this impossible and counterproductive. Previous regimes had assiduously attempted to regulate and control the development of civil society through both positive incentives and intimidation. Park Chung Hee forced the establishment of umbrella professional organizations into which he placed compliant leadership. Private organizations could be shut down under various types of sweeping legislation or simply by fiat, while organizations that served the state’s interests could be co-opted through financial support. The Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA) was ubiquitous. The assassination of Park in 1979 (ironically by the head of the KCIA) provided a narrow window for liberalization that was closed by the Chun Doo Hwan coup of December 12, 1979. But civil society—autonomous nongovernmental, voluntary, advocacy, and professional associations—was expanding. By the time of the official liberalization in 1987, these groups were beginning to exercise considerable independence and were taking positions at variance with government policies. The ability of the state to control organizational views was severely constrained by the perceived internal lack of polititical legitimacy of the Chun Doo Hwan regime.

Pluralism has since flourished. There are probably many thousands of nongovernmental organizations throughout the country (about 3,000 of the larger groups are listed in a directory of Korean nongovernmental organizations). Such organizations range from those operating at local levels to national organizations advocating public policies of various kinds—from the more rigorous enforcement of legislation on the environment, consumer protection, or women’s rights to calls for fundamental shifts in the economy or political processes. It is evident that, short of conflict on the peninsula, pluralism and civil society are now deeply rooted in Korea.

So are other institutions of the democratic process. There is a universal electorate that exercises its votes in high percentages that would be most welcome in the United States. There is a vibrant National Assembly, which, despite its limited power in practice owing to virtually sacrosanct major budgetary allocations such as defense, is a critical sounding board for accountability in the bureaucracy and in the political process. The judiciary, although subject to government pressures and influence through its recruitment and financing, is freer than ever and even occasionally finds against the state, while the Constitutional Court, a product of liberalization, has occasionally declared government-sponsored legislation unconstitutional. The press is more self-censored and less directly controlled than it has ever been. Political parties multiply, coalesce, and transform themselves with astonishing speed and regularity.

One critical element in this transformation has been the retreat of the military to the barracks. Without incident, they have relinquished power, and the threat of a coup or other military action short of war is highly unlikely. In the process toward democratization, and in comparison with worldwide trends showing military rulers to be most reluctant to retire from power, this must be considered a major achievement of Korean society.

Thus, Korea is today a pluralistic, procedural democracy. All the institutions that make for democratic governance are in place, and many function reasonably well. But the demise of authoritarianism in Korea should not be equated with effective democracy; their relationship is more nuanced. Korea, to put it differently, is on the path of democratization, and although the democratic process may be expected to grow and mature (not without trauma), there are still important gaps in the system that prevent Korea from being called an unqualified democratic society.

Issues of Democratic Deepening

The myriad definitions of democracy vary depending on cultural factors and political persuasion. Democracy has become a hyphenated term, modified by various regimes to suit their particular prejudices and political purposes. The ultimate test of democracy, if not its definition, is whether there is a peaceful change of administration among or between political parties (not between factions of the same party) through the electoral process. This has occurred in Asia only occasionally and only in a few countries: the Philippines, India, Sri Lanka (not without setbacks and problems in each), and most recently Japan.

Korea has yet to experience this change but may do so at this election. This very possibility is a testament to Korean political progress. If it occurs, it will be a watershed in Korean political history. This potential change of administration is remarkable for two reasons: First, the military is in no position to act (one of the potential winners, Kim Dae Jung, was not long ago anathema to it and had been jailed on several occasions and sentenced to death); and second, the Korean political party lineup was redesigned in January 1990 specifically to prevent a different administration from coming to power. Using the Japanese model of the Liberal Democratic Party, whose power at that time seemed permanent but has since proved ephemeral, the government’s Democratic Republican Party brought into it two leading political contenders, Kim Young Sam and Kim Jong Pil, together with many of their followers, with the idea that following the Roh Tae Woo presidency (1988-92) a parliamentary system would be inaugurated, with a ceremonial president (Korean presidents serve only one term of five years) and a powerful prime minister who would not be subject to term limitations. Thus political leadership would be rotated among the various factions of the government’s party for an indefinite period. The plan did not succeed, as Kim Young Sam is said to have reneged on his consent to it.

The issues of the deepening of democracy relate most basically, however, to the political culture. Two factors are paramount and fundamental. The first is the conception of the role of power and authority; the second is the concept of the relation of the state to civil society and to the individual, and thus the social space between the institutions of governance and the individual and collective citizenry.

Personalization of Power

The processes of political and economic development do not necessarily proceed symmetrically. Economic growth may occur while political institutions stagnate, at least for a considerable period. So, too, the functions of institutions may become modernized, but their administration and the attitudes toward the distribution of power and authority may be very traditional. A Korean scholar once said that Koreans operate with Western hardware and Confucian software. He meant that although industrial empires have been built on high technology and appear most modern, the attitudes toward the locus, distribution, extent, and use of power are very traditional.

This is, of course, not unique to Korea; many societies retain traditional aspects of authority, and no society is homogenous in its concepts of power. Yet foreign observers are sometimes unconsciously misled by the image of a modern, vibrant Korea without realizing that behind that facade are some deeply ingrained traditional values, not only of a societal nature, but also of the operation of power. Obviously, no society is static, and no one would ever accuse Korea of being so. Attitudes are in transition, which creates yet another set of tensions, and no society is completely traditional or modern—the issue is one of emphasis and where a particular culture is placed along a shifting spectrum of attitudes toward power.

Power in Korea is conceived of as finite, there being only a limited supply. To share it is to diminish one’s own stock. In a “modern” administrative system, power is conceived of as infinite—thus sharing may prompt the accrual of even greater amounts of power to the leadership. But the traditional view is that to share is to reduce not only one’s power but also one’s prestige in a society in which power is both admired and feared. It is thus a zero-sum game. This leads to a personalization of power, and with such personalization, factionalism, which was the bane of traditional Korean court politics and is strongly present in contemporary Korea.

Personalization of power extends from the highest of institutions down through the family. So a Korean president is accused of being “imperial.” The central government is highly reluctant to share authority with provincial or other lower units of governance, thus the reticence to allow, and the tentative nature of, local autonomy. The heads of chaebol retain authority and personalize decision making to a degree remarkable in companies that have worldwide reputations and interests as well as the most advanced technologies. The ultimate authority figure in descending order from the state is the father of the family. But the lowest becomes the highest—the analogy of the father is used to personalize the role of the leader (Kim Il Sung in North Korea as the father) or the government as a whole. The people are the children who will do what their benevolent father tells them is best for them. The concept has been explicit for over a thousand years in Korean literature.

Korea is also a strongly hierarchical society, and this layered system of respect and privilege is manifest from the language, where no one is equal, to the operation of politics. Hierarchy reinforces the concept of personalized power. Hierarchy was also fostered by the Japanese colonial administration which centralized authority in the most efficient system Korea had seen until that time, with the Japanese at the acme of power. Part of that administrative system and the laws associated with it are still in effect. Military rule introduced another, reinforcing element of hierarchy. Korean state decision making and authority extended effectively far into the society (more extensively, said some observers, than in the Soviet Union), so that developmental policies were implemented with extraordinary zeal and effectiveness, even when misguided.

The personalization of authority is related to responsibility for error as well as for progress. Because the king ruled on the basis of moral example corresponding to the moral order of the universe, he was responsible personally for the fertility of the land and the loyalty and good behavior of his subjects. Thus, if things go wrong some leader must take the blame. If there is a railway accident, the minister of transportation must resign, even if he had nothing to do with the incident or took office a few days before. Therefore as political efficacy is personalized, so is political inability.

Nowhere is this problem of the personalization of power more apparent than in the political party process, which is one of the weakest segments of the democratization process. Political parties in Korea have been circumscribed—the left wing is not part of the spectrum, having been declared illegal. Aside from this particularity of Korean politics, political parties stand for virtually no programs. Since independence in 1948 there have been over 100 parties in Korea. Their names are all fine-sounding, involving such time-honored terms as “democratic,” “republican,” “liberal,” and so forth, but the party’s title rarely relates to its ideological reality.

Political parties in Korea are not political parties in the Western European or American tradition. They are in fact political entourages that are formed and reformed with only one of two objectives—to retain power or to achieve it. Party names change at the whim of the leader or for perceived cleansing or other public relations reasons in accordance with a kind of obscure political geomancy. Parties have no continuity in advocacy. They do not train future leaders, for if an underling begins to assume popularity he is expelled or more likely will seek to form and head a new party.

Only in 1987, when Roh Tae Woo took over the party from Chun Doo Hwan, was the new-party rule broken. One of Roh’s first tasks was to purge the party of Chun’s followers and install his own core group in authoritative positions. Many of Chun’s followers splintered off, joining the Kim Jong Pil group a little later. When Kim Young Sam joined the party in 1990, he also began reforming it in his own image. Political alliances among leaders are ephemeral and break down under the strain of divergent authority in tension with personalized power.

The Korean political representational system reinforces the autocratic authority of the party leader in a manner that is probably inadvertent. Korea’s National Assembly is composed not only of elected representatives of various parties but also a number of other appointed representatives in proportion to the percentage of votes that a party received in the elections. This system has been charged as cultivating corruption, as the seats might be bought for large payments to the party—the safer the seat, the higher the payment. In reality, the more important issue may be one of power; the choice of those who occupy proportional seats rests with the party leadership, which increases the authoritarian tendencies of the party head, as those who are chosen as proportional candidates have no individual political bases.

That no member of the party votes against its wishes is further evidence that party is the rigid preserve of the leadership. Additionally there are no votes of conscience on nonparty issues, as in the United Kingdom, or splitting of votes as in the U.S. Congress. In fact, public records are not kept of how individual legislators vote—it is assumed that they vote with the party at all times.

Legislators change parties depending on opportunities and circumstances. It is not that one might feel more ideologically or intellectually comfortable with a certain group, but rather that the group may present possibilities for advancement. When the government lost a majority by a small margin in the National Assembly, it was able to recruit others to its ranks by various means, and thus keep a narrow majority. These factors have produced cynicism about the National Assembly. Legislators in Korea in general seem to have little public respect, although constituents of a particular legislator may feel quite differently about that individual. The public assumes that they are corrupt, and this may be one reason that, of all public servants, they have no pensions.

Democracies function under what in the West is called the rule of law. That simple phrase is based on complex historical precedents that allowed its evolution over centuries, and on the institutionalization of law. Personalization of power implies rule by some who are either above or beyond the legal system—those who play by individual, self-imposed rules.

A rule of law system where even the head of state is not above the law is evolving, but the process is slow. It is, of course, predicated on the independence of the judiciary, which has been lacking in Korea. This is illustrated by the jailing of two former presidents on corruption (and one on mutiny) charges. The courts at first held that they could not try a leader of a successful mutiny, and then some months later, under political pressure, changed their view.

If such personalization of power exists in the realm of the state and its institutions, it would be highly unlikely that it did not also exist in other fields as well. Privately owned universities often give their presidents extraordinary authority on his or her personal whim. chaebol operate in the same manner. Nongovernmental organizational and civil society leadership may also illustrate the same tendencies. The culture of power strongly affects how all, not just government, institutions operate.

Social Distance and Democratic and Human Rights

Discussion of the intervention of the state into the economies of East Asian societies has now become a commonplace, even trite, commentary on their remarkable development. Economists and others have noted this extensive intrusion and considered it with varying degrees of equanimity, although there is no denying that the results have had remarkable impact on the world scene. Even if, as some scholars maintain, Korea has gone from a “developmental state” characterized by heavy-handed government interference, regulation, and control of the economy to a “postdevelopmental state,” where this control is largely unexercised, the model is evident and still alive.

Yet there seems to be a myopia among foreign observers on East Asia, and perhaps especially on Korea, that separates into intellectually watertight compartments economic from other types of intervention. Economic intervention is accepted as a fact, whatever efficacy one wishes to assign to it. Economic intervention, however, is far more complex, and interventions in general far more intrusive than many foreign observers imagine. In Korean society the space, or social distance, between the government and the individual is much more narrow than in many other societies. This means both that the proclivity of the state to intervene in the lives of its citizens is far greater than in many other cultures and these interventions are far more readily accepted by the population. The distance is widening both for business and for general society as government is pushed by business, reinforced by the international economic order, to stand aside and let untrammeled economic development take place.

Here again the Confucian analogy of the role of the state as leader comes into play. The state intervenes in a beneficent manner to assist the people, as a father does with his children. As one instructs and controls what a young, impressionable child may read, watch, see, or say, and who his or her associates may be, the state provides guidance on all possible occasions. Even today, parental intervention into the marriage process is pronounced and generally accepted (although the children have veto power over parental suggestions and the vetting of possible mates). Government believes it knows best; for example, although in English-language publications Koreans use the term “agricultural extension” (as in the extension of services to the farmer), the literal translation is the more interventionist “agricultural guidance.” Furthermore, the government, through selective and punitive tax audits and other means, has the capacity to make deviance from accepted norms expensive.

State intrusion has extended into virtually every part of private life. Sumptuary laws, which have existed in some form for half a millennium, even today mandate, for example, how much might be spent on a wedding, or the extent to which one might provide flowers for various occasions. These laws or edicts are largely ignored, but their existence and the lack of public protest to them (in contrast to ignoring them) indicate that state authority over everyday life is not ended. When foreigners complain about anti-luxury campaigns directed against foreign goods, they may not be aware of a long tradition of this type of popular and governmental-inspired measure.

Korea adheres officially to the concept that human rights are universal and does not formally accept as public policy that there may be “Asian values,” as do some other regimes, many of which use the concept to justify varying degrees of restriction or repression. Yet the individualism on which universal rights are predicated is far less pronounced in Korea than in many other societies. Nevertheless, the traditional communalism is in the process of change. Families in the past have been punished for the actions of their members (this is still true in North Korea), and the latest version of the Korean constitution, reflecting the prevalence of the problem, specifically prohibits this.

Only recently, and then under pressure from international organizations such as the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) and the International Labor Organization, have the rights of labor, which have been the most curtailed of any social group, been in part restored. Labor had legally been excluded from the political process until 1997. Unions could not form parties, support candidates, or provide funds for campaigns. This has been modified and one labor leader has determined (at this writing) to run for the presidency under some civil society auspices. Whether there will develop a party with the loyalties of labor, and how such a party might relate to regional loyalties, are questions without immediate answers.

It is, of course, in the interests of any Korean government to portray itself as democratic and to downplay the intrusions on what may be regarded as rights in other states or justify them on the basis of culture. Korea did this before the UN Social and Economic Council in justifying the legislation against teachers forming labor unions, on the basis that Korea is a Confucian society that honors learning and teachers, and unions would undercut their authority and respect. Such a potrayal is more important to South Korea than to many other societies because it has been in constant competition with North Korea, and, although it now may have won the war, it has not forgotten the battle.

The narrow gulf between state and society effectively limits the rights that are associated with democracy. Although there is more freedom in Korea today than ever before, and the process of expanding those freedoms is likely to continue, the state sets limits that are far more stringent than in many societies that are also called democracies.

Media

The media exemplify the narrowness of the state-society gap. Knowledge is power, and past tendencies have been for the state to control the media. At the worst of times, KCIA operatives sat in the editorial offices of newspapers, dictating what might be written. Later, directives came from the government of what might or might not be printed and what was absolutely forbidden.

Today that situation has changed. But the personal connections of the government officials who deal with the media are so important and their roles so senior that their informal admonitions are taken seriously. Because of the strongly hierarchical nature of society that limits the leadership’s access to critical information, along with the heritage of the media as part of the literati, the press in Korea needs to perform the role of a modernized imperial censorate, which had access to the king and told him what was wrong with his policies and activities. They are, in effect, the court of last resort.

Although the media may seem to be extremely critical of an administration, excessive negative coverage more likely represents a feeding frenzy after administrative anomalies have already been brought to light. There is little investigative reporting. Through advertising, which now accounts for about 90 percent of press revenue, as well as some important press ownership, the chaebol play an inordinately large role in how the press responds to political issues.

Intelligence and Ideology

The methods and institutions for intelligence intrusions are still in place, although their scope is more limited and they seem quiescent. The Agency for National Security Planning (formerly the KCIA, but renamed after Park’s assassination) still has an extensive network that is pervasive, but invisible to the general citizenry. But should the bounds of acceptable practice be broken, it may become active indeed. In fact its purview was strengthened by legislation in 1997 demanded by the president in light of the severe student demonstrations of August 1996.

Although the subject is in dispute among Korean scholars, there seems to have existed in Korea, at least since the fourteenth century, a strong tendency for intellectual orthodoxy. The official imprimatur of Confucianism was placed on society through both court actions and decrees as well as through an official examination system that ratified continuation in (but not entry into) an elite class based on intellectual excellence within prescribed sociocultural limits. The rigidity of the system is illustrated by the attempted physical extinction of Catholicism, the tenets of which were considered to undermine the basis of the Confucian world order, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Although there were various efforts at reform from within the Confucian system at various points in the Chosun Dynasty (1392-1910), especially after Korea was opened to the world in 1876, they were ineffectual.

The orthodoxy continued both under Japanese colonial authorities, albeit with a different focus, and throughout the republics. The National Security Law and its predecessors, which predate the Korean War, set up ideological limits beyond which it was, and still is, illegal to go. “Anti-state” organizations (meaning those interpreted to be pro-North Korea) are outlawed, and activities and materials that are overly critical of the South’s social or political system are still censored. Those espousing such views or holding such materials are subject to arrest under this law, which has a conviction rate of over 98 percent. Although the law was justified as protection against espionage, few were tried for it.

The government’s cries for orthodoxy are still not muted in spite of the end of the cold war or the clear deterioration of the North Korean economy. The longest held political prisoner in the world (43 years) was not released until 1995 because he had not repented his orthodox communism and adopted the new orthodoxy of the South. In 1996, after the student demonstrations, the president called for a new ideology to counter the left, even though a state-inspired ideology is in fact contrary to the democratic process and the rights associated with it. When a disaffected public opposition figure defected to North Korea in August 1997, the government party called for an “ideological” investigation of his associates.

Regionalism

The issue of regionalism within the Korean political context has been the subject of much thought and discussion, and will no doubt be an important factor in the forthcoming campaign. It is important because it tends to undercut substantive discussion of issues, as voters are motivated by a primordial loyalty to region before candidates’ personalities, programs, or policies.

Regionalism was kept under control during the authoritarian period. It was evident in that the leadership of the state, including both its head and many of its senior administrations, came from the southeast section of the country (Kyongsang), which also received an inordinately large share of the investment in industry and infrastructure. The Cholla provinces of the southwest, site of much of the opposition to the government, were clearly discriminated against in terms of opportunities. The Kwangju (Cholla) incident of May 1980, brutally suppressed by the military, and the persecution by both presidents Park and Chun of Kim Dae Jung, who was from that region, solidified anger that still remains. Regrettably, the bifurcation of southeast and southwest recalls the split in Korea over one thousand years ago along the very same geographical lines. Regional voting patterns are destructive to rational political choices based on issues and leadership qualities.

Progress Toward Democratization

Progress toward democratization is evident. It is recognizable in the autonomous functioning of more institutions and in the freedom of individuals to petition government for change as well as to explore new issues intellectually. The population of Korea is among the most literate—indeed among the most educated—in the world, and although a strong and growing sense of nationalism may trigger provincialism, the process of globalization has exposed Koreans to an array of ideas and diverse political concepts, which has affected their political culture. So, too, the need for international recognition as an “advanced” society prompts reform.

Government has generally acted conservatively in opening to democratic substance. The state’s response to reform and liberalization may be characterized as hesitant, reluctant, incomplete, and sometimes inadvertent. Nevertheless, even with this recalcitrance which has characterized all republics to some degree, there has been evident and remarkable progress. The Korean people have in fact forced democratic forms on a reluctant state. They may, over time, be able to force democratic substance on it as well.

International influence has had mixed results. The domination of security interests by the United States, South Korea’s mentor for a period, overwhelmed other U.S. interests in a more open market and then in the democratization process. Yet the United States did act to convince Syngman Rhee to leave Korea in 1960, oppose the coup of 1961, force the presidential elections of 1963, press ineffectually for better human rights in the late 1970s, and effectively limit the state’s options in using force to prevent demonstrations in 1987. In addition to these public policies, behind the scenes it has saved the lives of Korean dissidents (including Kim Dae Jung) and attempted quietly (but not often successfully) to mitigate other excesses against democratic and human rights.

Other foreign influences have been evident and important as well. The 1988 Seoul Olympics no doubt contributed to liberalization, for the specter of massive anti-government demonstrations would have damaged Korea’s international image. Thus resolution of the 1987 crisis was important to Korea’s world prestige. Joining the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation forum, the World Trade Organization, and the OECD put pressure on Korea to conform to internationally acceptable practices, only some of which are economic. Others involve equity and rights. The influence of these forces, usually ignored by Korean scholars for natural nationalistic reasons, nevertheless should not go unnoticed.

Korea has been an East Asian anomaly until quite recently because it has rarely seen business compete for political power either through recruitment into the National Assembly or the presidency. Most legislators have not primarily been identified as businessmen, but as literati, military, bureaucrats, journalists, or other members of varying elites. Until recently, commercial success alone did not provide real power (since it was largely controlled by the state) and, perhaps more importantly, no real respect. This has changed. The first businessman ran for president in 1992, receiving about 12 percent of the vote, and it is likely that as business has shaken loose from overly stringent government controls, since the state needs business as much or even more than business needs the state, we will witness more active political roles for many businessmen. This will increase the prospects for pluralism, which is an advantage, but may also complicate issues of social equity.

If this analysis of political change in Korea is accurate, then what of the future? It is likely to be different. The forces for democratization in all fields have built up, and thus the government, which internally has become more pluralistic, will likely be less resistant to liberalization. Barring a national catastrophe on the peninsula, which seems unlikely, the process will continue. As liberalization and alternative sources of information expand, and with technology far beyond the state’s capacity for control even if it wished to exert it, the international forces that have both assisted and retarded democratization will be on the side of reform.

Even as this election approaches, politicians and parties may band together or separate as each considers the projected realities of the political process in Korea. Although this may be considered a weakness of the political system, it is also a sign of the growing maturity of pluralization, the basis on which substantive democracy may be built.

The acceleration of change, already remarkable, is likely to increase. But the heritage of state intervention and the inchoate call for conformity are likely to persist at the same time. The process of democratization is thus virtually irreversible, but it will occur in a distinctly Korean manner. Foreign observers may eventually call Korea some form of hyphenated democracy, but the progress that has been manifest is unlikely to be reversed.