Psst! Did You Hear? S. Korea Is Trying to Quash Rumors

For centuries, rulers have tried to squash the lowly rumor. South Korea’s government is trying again.

On Nov. 28, the national police announced a monthlong campaign to clamp down on the spread of rumors that relate to labor, financial or public sector issues and that could undermine national stability.

“The spread of malicious rumors has reached a level that threatens to endanger social stability and economic order,” the police said in announcing the campaign. “All field police will be mobilized across the country.”

Depending on which law prosecutors apply, offenders could face up to $12,000 in fines and five years in prison.

Political scientists see the campaign as a sign that the ruling coalition is feeling beleaguered.

“It’s bizarre, just bizarre,” said Kim Byung Kook, associate professor of political science at Seoul’s Korea University. “The announcement shows the government isn’t able to figure out how to overcome the current political crisis.”

In recent months, President Kim Dae Jung’s administration has faced charges that financial regulators accepted payoffs, secret deals were made with North Korea that undercut national sovereignty and free speech was squelched when a defector from the North was fired for criticizing government policy.

On other fronts, foreign investors have been pulling money out of South Korea amid concerns that the government is balking at real reform. And unions have stepped up demonstrations aimed at saving jobs and derailing restructuring.

Several Koreans say they think that the anti-rumor campaign is a bit ridiculous, especially given the president’s long record as a human rights advocate. “It’s a stupid idea in a democratic country,” said Shin Hyon Bok, a shop owner in Seoul. “Perhaps under a dictator, yes, but not in today’s society.”

Furthermore, others say, rumors often turn out to be true. Word was on the street months before the government acknowledged the bad state of affairs at the shaky Daewoo, Kia and Hyundai conglomerates.

“Whether or not something is a rumor is proven in time, so this is silly,” said Choi Jin Sae, a 43-year-old securities industry worker. “Besides, what’s your definition of a rumor? . . . Rumors can be interpreted based on your viewpoint.”

A police spokesman said the force’s main targets are rumormongers who bother to write down misinformation. Draconian regulations that punished people for making “destabilizing” verbal comments were struck down in 1988. The only applicable statutes today are those regulating billboard, print and written financial information.

The police acknowledge privately that the campaign is controversial and that no one has yet been approached or apprehended. Another puzzle is how to catch and stem the spread of rumors.

“If the police suddenly knocked on my door and accused me of starting a rumor, I’d be outraged,” said Byun Ah Ran, 23, a video game graphic designer.

Critics say the real intent may be to chill political opponents, a charge that administration supporters deny. “The government isn’t trying to stop criticism,” said ruling party legislator Yoo Jay Kun. “It’s more like a kindly warning.”

The apparent catalyst for the campaign was a Nov. 14 comment by National Assembly member Kim Yong Kap of the opposition Grand National Party, or GNP. “The government is too soft on North Korea,” he charged in the legislature. “People are saying the ruling party is little more than a unit of the North Korean Workers’ Party.”

This reportedly sparked an outcry by the South’s ruling party legislators, who argued that the only place the rumor existed was in the assemblyman’s head and that the administration should put the police on the problem.

One area that may warrant tough countermeasures involves rumors started by swindlers to manipulate stock prices, said brokerage worker Choi. But these are best handled by regulators, not high-profile police campaigns, he added.

Some who believe that the campaign is futile cite an old Korean folk tale about a king who always wore a hat. One day his chief minister saw him undressed and realized that the sovereign was disfigured. The minister kept the secret until he could bear it no longer, then ran deep into a forest far from any living soul and cried out: “The king has donkey ears!” Before long, everyone knew.

The trees, it turned out, had passed on the rumor.