Is This Any Way to Run a Democracy? : Korea: Culture of Retribution

Imagine the JFK assassination, Watergate, the Kent State student slayings, the McCarthy hearings and a couple of major business scandals all rolled into one and you begin to get a sense of the political convulsions shaking South Korea. Already, two former presidents are in jail, one, Roh Tae Woo, accused of creating a $654-million slush fund, the other, Chun Doo Hwan, of insurrection; Kim Young Sam, the first civilian elected president, faces unanswered questions about his role; a dozen top corporate leaders are under indictment (a state prosecutor is still digging), and the trauma of a coup and a bloody massacre, carried out by military rulers 15 years ago, has been rekindled. In short, the entire establishment of Korea, Inc. has been called into question.

This in a society that, in a generation’s time, has traveled from the poverty of a Zaire to the status of world industrial power and global economic competitor, from a $2 billion annual gross national product, in 1962, to one of $365 billion last year. The political transformation has been no less radical: from Confucian, authoritarian-military rule to a free-wheeling high-tech democracy. But do recent events illuminate the dark side of South Korea’s success story?

The official explanation for the gusher of political arrests and indictments is that President Kim is fulfilling his pledge to root out corruption and end business-government collusion. But even if the political turmoil were not occurring in the middle of South Korea’s election cycle--after the ruling Democratic Liberal Party (DLP) did poorly in important local elections this fall, four months before parliamentary elections and 14 months before a presidential ballot--this explanation would be inadequate.

Behind the cascading scandal is a battle royale for control of the future of Korean politics in the context of outmoded practices: a Confucian culture of gift-giving, a government-business complex and a political tradition of retribution that may be spinning out of control.

Since 1948, Korean politics has been marked by retribution. Every Korean president has been either assassinated, resigned in disgrace or discredited by his successor. To understand Kim’s situation, a bit of political history is necessary.

Kim, along with Kim Dae Jung and Kim Jong-Pil, is one of the “three Kims” who have dominated Korea’s political scene for 25 years. Before South Korea’s transition to democracy in 1988, all three were opposition politicians frequently jailed and repressed by the country’s military rulers. Former Presidents Roh and Chun are ex-generals who ruled Korea from 1980-93. Roh backed Chun, his former military academy classmate, in a 1979 slow-motion coup in which President Park Chung Hee was murdered. Chun took over 10 months later.

While the military power struggle was unfolding, pro-democracy protests, in which the “three Kims” were prominent players, were gaining momentum. Chun declared martial law and sent troops into the streets of Kwangju, in the southwestern province of Cholla, the home base of Kim Dae Jung. The result was the still controversial Kwangju massacre, which left more than 200 dead.

Chun yielded to Roh, who surprised many by orchestrating the ’88 democratic transition. He won the presidency by a plurality, with a divided opposition splitting the vote. He also opened relations with the Soviet Union and China, once staunch North Korean allies, and also signed unprecedented reconciliation accords with Pyongyang.

So how did Roh become such a Nixon-like figure?

The $654-million slush fund he created has more to do with political ambition than payola. President Kim left the opposition to merge with Roh’s ruling DLP in order to bolster his chances of winning the 1992 presidential elections. Though nominally in the same party, Roh’s faction has sought to be dominant. With parliamentary elections approaching, longtime rival Kim Dae Jung came out of retirement; the DLP did poorly in nationwide, local and provincial elections, and rumors emerged that Roh and his DLP faction were planning to bolt and form a new party.

Enter the slush fund, an enormous pool of money that a kingmaker could tap to finance political candidates. As is politicians’ habit, the fund’s two-thirds of a billion dollars were in smaller accounts under others names, a practice President Kim’s reforms have tried to end. It was through a perhaps unintended disclosure--another politician was fronting for Roh--that the bribery scandal came to light. As it turned out, even Kim Dae Jung admitted to having received $2.5 million from the ruling party.

In South Korea, the exchange of little white envelopes occurs at every social level. In some cases, it signifies little more than a sign of gratitude. In the case of government-business ties, it has been the price of doing business, as government granted licenses, subsidized loans, controlled unions and erected favorable trade barriers. Businesses also “donate” to avoid punishment.

This arrangement worked well during South Korea’s economic takeoff. Its price was an enormous concentration of economic power in a handful of chaebols , or business conglomerates. For example, the top four chaebols account for one-third of total sales in South Korea and 60% of its exports. Besides creating large inefficiencies in the economy, this cozy government-business relationship sometimes fostered, as recent collapsed buildings and bridges suggest, lethal incompetence.

Fearing economic turmoil, the prosecutor is treading lightly on the corporate chieftains involved in the scandal. Only businessmen whose money trail led to specific large government projects have been indicted. The challenge in bringing accountability to business culprits, as well as to former presidents, is how to bring truth to light without being vindictive, and how to reform and modernize the economic and political system without inviting reprisals.

There are some dangerous political minefields along the way. How far to probe the Roh-business connections? And what of DLP money that went to back President Kim’s 1992 election? In the minds of voters, he will not be Mr. Clean simply because money went to his party, rather than to him personally. Getting to the bottom of the 1979 coup and Kwangju massacre could have a cathartic effect. But harsh and vindictive treatment of the two former presidents could generate more reprisals and a new divisiveness. And how would North Korea’s rulers view such behavior: If they consume their own leaders, what will they do to us after reunification?

On the economic front, the bribery scandal offers Kim Young Sam an opportunity to realize his slogan of “globalization.” He can downsize the government-business complex by accelerating economic liberalization and deregulation, which would make South Korean industry more competitive and innovative in the longer run. Politically, the South Korean public will view with cynicism anything less than a new relationship between government and business and serious campaign finance reform. A move to replace the backstage political monopoly with a system of factions checking and balancing each other would certainly strengthen democracy.

However benign President Kim’s intentions, his politicization of what are in and of themselves legitimate issues runs the risk of tainting, if not discrediting, the results. What ultimately results from the political shakedown remains to be seen. But the betting is that some measure of economic and political modernization, however wrenching the transformation, will be the outcome. One indicator of such a new day would be the fading of the aging “three Kims,” succeeded by a new generation of politicians focused on sustaining Korea’s impressive achievements into the 21st century.