Signs of Hope in Korea

The month of June may have been the most turbulent in South Korea's history since the war that divided the Korean peninsula in the early 1950s. For most of that month, the people of South Korea protested years of military rule, cronyism, corruption, economic injustice, unfair elections, and the jailing, torture, and murder of political protesters.

The political turmoil that spilled into the streets of Seoul, Pusan, Kwangju City, and countless other cities across the country brought to mind the last days of the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines. And just as in the Philippines under Ferdinand Marcos, the South Korean military government lacks the most fundamental requirement for any government to rule: It has no legitimacy in the eyes of its people.

In May 1980, Chun and a group of military officials took power in a coup after several months of transitional rule that followed the assassination of President Park Chung Hee. That move by the military met with widespread protest, and the new rulers sent troops into the southern province of Kwangju, resulting in the deaths of as many as 2,000 people.

THROUGHOUT ITS RULE, the military government has harassed its political opposition with violent dispersals of student demonstrations, the banning of much labor activity, and the harassment, jailing, and "house arrest" of opposition party leaders. And the government's security apparatus has regularly resorted to torture, including the murder in January of a 21-year-old student, Park Chong Chul.

In recent years tensions have centered on the issue of constitutional reform. Chun's Democratic Justice Party (DJP) has advocated continued indirect election of the president within a parliamentary format, while the opposition, including the Reunification Democratic Party (RDP) led by Kim Dae Jung and Kim Young Sam, has sought direct elections within a presidential, or U.S.-styled, system.

But after a year of open discussion and negotiation, Chun announced in April that he was suspending debate until after the successful election of the next president and the conclusion of the 1988 Summer Olympic Games in Seoul. Chun's decision
was to guarantee that power would be handed over in February 1988 to Roh Tae Woo, a former general who was also involved in the Kwangju incident. Roh was hand-picked by Chun and then named by the DJP in June to follow Chun as the party's head.

Some observers speculated that Chun suspended talks on constitutional reform because he saw the prospect of an opposition leader being elected to the presidency as a threat to South Korea's stability. And Chun apparently sees the undisturbed completion of the Games as a matter of national interest. A successful Olympics would go far toward cementing South Korea's image as a Western-oriented, financially . responsible, economically advancing, and politically sophisticated Asian nation. And, it would seem, the military government was counting on its ability to quash any ugly or embarrassing political demonstrations while the eyes of the world will be on Seoul.

What South Korea's military rulers appear not to have counted on is the determination of the South Koreans to achieve democracy. Chun's April announcement served only to stoke the flames that finally erupted in June into the demonstrations that have filled television screens across the world. His decision was greeted with protest from Protestant ministers and Buddhists, with "prayer-fasts" from hundreds of Catholic priests across the country, and it has even provoked the middle class.

Particularly prominent in the religious opposition has been Catholic Cardinal Stephen Kim Sou Hwan. In his Easter message, Kim said of Chun's decision to close constitutional debate, "Darkness has begun to take over our society and our government....The people's hope for democracy through direct elections has been broken in pieces by a conspiracy of evil."

AS WE GO TO PRESS, it appears that the growing and broadening opposition to the Chun regime, to the appointment of Roh, and to the April decision has given pause to the military government and its most important ally, the United States. After Roh publicly suggested reconciliation with the opposition, Chun announced his
acceptance of the opposition demand for the direct election of South Korea's next president. Chun is expected to restore political rights to opposition leaders, including Kim Dae Jung, and to ease government censorship of the media.

Some observers have pointed out that Chun and Roh appear to be acting out a "great drama," with Roh in the role of the "great mediator" and Chun as the "reluctant president" who accepts the advice of--so he hopes--his successor. These analysts point out that since the government apparently accepts the need for popular elections, portraying Roh as a "statesman" with an independent mind may be the best hope for defeating either or both Kim Dae Jung and Kim Young Sam in an election.

Words of caution would be wisely offered regarding the specifics of Chun's concessions and regarding the military alliance with the United States. Given Chun's bloody 1980 coup and legacy of repression, it would be historically naive to assume that recent breakthroughs will immediately produce a reformist government. Biblical as well as political wisdom teaches that those with power do not often relinquish power readily. And there is no guarantee that political reform will also produce economic justice for the great numbers of South Koreans who have yet to benefit from South Korea's economic "miracle."

The need for concessions to the opposition's demands seems to have been accepted in Washington as well. But while the Reagan administration may accept reforms in South Korea, the United States for more than 30 years has considered South Korea's security as a matter of its own national interest. And it has seen to its interests by deploying more than 40,000 troops there. Any concessions by Chun that jeopardized those interests would likely be looked on warily in Washington.

Nonetheless, the significance of the acceptance by the military rulers of the demands of the Korean people should not be slighted. By yielding to the people's call for direct presidential elections, the Chun government, for the first time, has acknowledged the legitimacy of their demands. The Chun regime has been unable to impose such legitimacy for itself even after seven years of military rule.

South Korea may be entering a period of political dialogue that could, if reason and faith prevail, lead to the transition to true democracy. In April, Cardinal Kim said that South Korea "reflects the darkness and gloom experienced before the empty tomb" of Jesus. The actions and protests of the people of South Korea have offered the hope that the light that followed the dark and empty tomb--as dim and elusive as that light has been in Korea--may now be in sight.

Joe Lynch was a Sojourners editorial assistant when this article appeared.