Seoul Adopts Chemical-Free Policy on Protests

A remarkable thing happened in this often-polarized young democracy: The tear gas factory went out of business. It’s a metaphor for the quiet revolution occurring here.

For most of the last two decades, tear gas and riots seemed to go together here like beef bulgogi and kimchi. Police with canisters of the gas in hand fought their way through mobs of angry protesters, at times on a daily basis.

But a year ago, the police began turning their swords into plowshares. They went cold turkey on the chemicals and laid down the formidable heavy plastic shields, bulletproof vests and helmets that made them look like hulking invaders from another planet.

“Before, we used to have a strong and scary image,” police spokesman Young Keun Park said.

The police also began another novel tactic: They moved unarmed policewomen from office jobs to the front lines during demonstrations to calm protesters. “[The] policewomen’s approach is more delicate, nice, smooth and tender” than that of their male counterparts, maintained Seoul Police Chief Yoon Ung Sup.

The result: a virtual end to violence and injuries in the mass protests that still occur on a regular basis. “Now we have a peaceful demonstration culture like developed countries,” Yoon said proudly.

The firebombs and stones routinely hurled at police have even given way, on at least one occasion, to flowers. Whereas labor and political turbulence in South Korea could once be measured by how many canisters of tear gas police used to quell violence--220,000 in 1997, for example--police made it through 1999 without using any.

Apart from injuries suffered by two female officers--which helped turn the tide of public sympathy toward police--the only casualty of the program has been the Seoul-based Dae-A Chemical Industry, which closed last April. The company was the sole supplier for the nation’s police forces, which had once provided 70% of the company’s revenue, law enforcement officials said.

The change in climate here is apparent to foreign companies and prospective investors, who retain images of hostile workers and students rioting by the tens of thousands in Seoul’s streets, their red scarves making them seem all the more menacing. “Korea has come a long way in a short time,” said Tami Overby, executive director of the American Chamber of Commerce in South Korea.

The past troubles on the streets mirrored the country’s political and economic turbulence, with students and workers protesting authoritarian regimes and demanding higher wages as the country became more prosperous. The relative calm now is all the more surprising, as demonstrations surged anew in the last few years after the country’s humiliating bailout by the International Monetary Fund in late 1997. Tens of thousands of people were laid off or saw their businesses go belly up.

“We thought we should protect people from the riots, so we started to change the police attitudes from one of suppressing riots to one of supporting peaceful demonstrations,” said Yoon, the police chief.

To do that, Lee Mu Young, then head of Seoul police and now director of the national police agency, came up with the idea of officers saying “uncle” first.

“We came to the conclusion that if we changed first, the rioters would also change,” an agency spokesman said. Police officials said there was no precedent for the program; they went on gut instinct that it would work.

When told of the plan, Youn Jung Keun--the chief of the Seoul police’s riot unit who spent 11 years dodging stones, flaming bottles and iron pipes wielded by protesters--thought that his bosses were nuts. “I was really scared and doubtful,” Youn said.

But he quickly became a convert. “I realized it was really effective and efficient,” he said. The officers were much more comfortable too, particularly to be free of heavy bulletproof vests during summer.

Women on the force were even more skeptical and tense as they moved to the front lines to face protesters, recalled Kim Hae Kyung, 40, a leader of policewomen.

A member of the force for 17 years, Kim holds a black belt in aikido and served as a bodyguard for the South Korean first lady for years before being selected to lead two new squads of policewomen. Many of her charges were trained officers who, as a matter of course, had been assigned to handle the paperwork rather than walk a beat.

But their fears soon abated as the results were dramatic from Day One. At a demonstration in March 1999, they led 10,000 striking telecommunications and metal industry workers to a particular road. Calm prevailed.

“Policewomen are unarmed, and they looked vulnerable,” said Ahn Pong Sul, international director at the Federation of Korean Trade Unions, which includes about 1.2 million workers in various industries.

A week later, some demonstrators gave roses to policewomen.

Things went along fine during numerous protests until December, when two women were injured after being pushed down during a riot. The violence came during a clash with a militant student union. One officer spent two weeks in the hospital, the other a month.

After initially editorializing that tear gas was needed, the media shifted its denouncement to the demonstrators. Unions involved in the protest apologized on behalf of the student group and asked it not to participate in future rallies.

Ahn said it isn’t in labor’s interest to be violent, but rather to make its voice heard by the government.

So far, the policewomen have been dispatched to 54 demonstrations as of late last month, and the only major violence occurred at the December protest.

Seoul’s 273 policewomen are much happier in their new role, Kim said. “We feel much more powerful.”

The one thing they don’t like is working weekends, when more protests occur. So the force is scrambling to more than double the number of female officers.

Several men in the department conceded in interviews that, on the whole, policewomen here tend to be better educated than their male counterparts: All are graduates of four-year colleges, whereas only 80% of the men hold bachelor’s degrees. Women also face steeper odds getting accepted on the force: About 1 in 200 women is accepted onto the force, whereas 1 in 10 males applying is hired.

Following Seoul’s lead, most police forces in South Korea have laid aside tear gas and are drafting women for the front lines.

Now that fewer riot police are needed, Seoul police are redeploying men to traffic control and crime prevention units. Another squad is concentrating on cleaning up red-light districts.

It’s all part of a reform plan to change police’s overall modus operandi. “If you change your way of thinking,” reads a big sign inside police headquarters, “you can see the future.”