TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=93HT0816> <title> 1987: South Korea:A Vote For Stability </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1987 Highlights </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> December 28, 1987 SOUTH KOREA A Vote for Stability </hdr> <body> Roh wins big, but opponents cry "fraud" and vow to overturn his election Late in the evening, officials at the Seoul counting station carefully--almost tenderly--unlocked scores of metal ballot boxes. Then, amid the glare of television lights and the intent stares of observers, 80 people began to tot up the results. The election night scene mirrored all the hope and anticipation of South Korea's first free presidential race in 16 years. For weeks, Opposition Leaders Kim Dae Jung, 62, and Kim Young Sam, 60, had charged that Roh Tae Woo, 55, the candidate of the ruling Democratic Justice Party, would have to resort to widespread fraud to win the contest. The allegations poisoned the campaign atmosphere with distrust and helped provoke sporadic violence. Still, South Koreans flocked to the polls last week in record numbers: nearly 90% of the 26 million registered voters braved long lines and freezing cold to cast their ballots. When the results were announced, the verdict stunned the country. Though a neck-and-neck race had been expected, Roh won the contest for the five-year presidential term with 36% of the tally. Kim Young Sam, leader of the Reunification Democratic Party, finished second with 27.4%, followed by Kim Kae Jung, who heads the Party for Peace and Democracy, with 26.5%. Former Prime Minister Kim Jong Pil, who was considered a threat to drain votes from Roh, picked up 8%. For Kim Young Sam and Kim Dae Jung the results provided a bitter and all too obvious lesson: the opposition's combined total of nearly 55% of the vote would have beaten Roh had there been a single candidate. Because neither Kim would bow out, Roh's rivals managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The size of Roh's margin startled even his own supporters. "we underestimated people's desire for stability," said Hym Hong Choo, vice-chairman of Roh's campaign. That yearning proved crucial in a country that has suffered many a spell of repression and rebellion since the republic was founded in 1948 in the wake of post-World War II partitioning of Korea. Having grown over the past decade into a sizable economic power, South Korea now longs for political maturity. That would help ensure the success of the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, which South Koreans view as something of a coming-of-age festival. Continued turmoil, by contrast, could threaten the Olympics and deal a shattering blow to South Korean prestige. Roh, a former general, ran well in small towns and rural areas, which tend to be conservative. He won strong support near the Demilitarized Zone with North Korea, where thousands of U.S. and South Korean troops are a constant reminder of the threat of a Communist invasion. Said a 77-year-old Roh backer and refugee from the North: "I voted for the candidate who was best qualified to defend the nation." Roh's effort was bolstered by a tragic event: the Nov. 29 disappearance near Burma of a Korean Air Lines jet with 115 people aboard. When the Seoul government charged that the plane was destroyed by a bomb planted by North Korean agents, the Communist threat was raised anew. The opposition attributed its electoral loss entirely to fraud by the military-backed government of President Chun Doo Hwan. Deriding the vote as the "worst instance of election rigging in the history of my republic," Kim Dae Jung predicted "utter chaos" and a national uprising against Roh and Chun. Said Kim: "They have dug their own graveyard." Kim Young Sam described the election as "totally null and void" and pledged to "be in the vanguard of the struggle" to oust Roh and Chun. The National Coalition for Democracy, an opposition umbrella group, called for a return to the "glory of the National resistance in June" when student-led protests forced the Chun government to abandon its plans for an electoral college vote that the regime could control. The scheme was replaced by last week's direct election. The opposition was not alone in accusing the government of cheating. Poll watchers reported a number of suspicious incidents: most than 3,000 were claimed in Seoul, another 300 in the southern city of Kwangju, a Kim Dae Jung stronghold. But compared with the Philippine elections last year that eventually led to the ouster of Ferdinand Marcos, the Southern Korean vote seemed relatively clean. While there were instances of ballot-box stuffing, many of the cheating charges appeared to be based on hearsay and could not be proved. Foreign observers had a mixed opinion of the balloting's fairness. A group of U.S. congressional aides said they were concerned about election abuses. But Steven Schneebaum of the Washington-based International Human Rights Law Group noted, "There does not appear to be, based on what we've seen, widespread election-day fraud." In Washington, the State Department was pleased with the outcome. "It would certainly seem that the whole process has gone pretty well," said one official. In a cautiously worded statement, State Department Spokesman Charles Redman congratulated Roh on his victory and said the U.S. "looks forward to working closely with him." With 40,000 troops deployed in South Korea, however, the U.S. is wary of stirring up anti-American sentiment among the opposition, so Redman took note of the fraud charges. They must be dealt with "as fairly and quickly as possible," said he, "so that the process of reconciliation can proceed." Throughout the campaign, fear mounted that huge demonstrations would ensue if Roh won. But students, who were the vanguard of last summer's protests, were initially quiet after the results were announced. Though scuffles broke out last Thursday between some 2,000 demonstrators and police in Kwangju, unrest did not spread. Antigovernment youths, already exhausted by the bitter election campaign, at first seemed stunned by the size of Roh's victory. When 150 of them staged a rally at Seoul's Yonsei University, not a single policeman showed up to challenge them. After marching for an hour and shouting antigovernment slogans in the chilly evening air, the students gradually disbanded. "This is not like June," one said. "The people don't support us." The calm was broken, though, on Friday. In downtown Seoul, some 300 slogan-chanting students hurled stones and fire bombs at police, who responded with volleys of eye-stinging pepper gas. Across town a more violent scene unfolded. In a dawn raid, riot police stormed a ward office building that opposition supporters had occupied since Wednesday. The protesters seized the building after spotting a ballot box suspiciously hidden among packages of bread, crackers and noodles on a truck parked outside. Police smashed doors and swarmed up ladders as the students fought back in fierce hand-to-hand combat. About 1,000 demonstrators were finally led away, some bloody and unconscious. For Roh the victory climaxed a remarkable evolution. As the handpicked successor of the authoritarian, widely disliked Chun, the ex-general was vilified by many last summer when the Democratic Justice Party nominated him for President. Under the electoral college voting system then in use, Roh appeared certain of victory. But immediately after his nomination, widespread demonstrations broke out across the country. Although students led the protests, many members of the growing middle class supported them by also taking to the streets. Roh soon realized that although he could win the election, he might not be able to rule the country. Thus on June 29, without prior consultation with Chun, Roh bowed to popular demand and proposed direct presidential elections. That defused the crisis, but opposition supporters continued to view Roh with disdain and suspicion, interpreting his concession as a tactical retreat rather than an authentic conversion to democracy. Aware that he would never recruit opposition students to his cause, Roh focused his campaign on farmers, workers, women an the middle class. He portrayed himself as a down-to-earth fellow who would finally end military-backed rule. Carefully distancing himself from Chun, Roh promised to reform the feared Korean intelligence agency and punish any crimes committed by the Chun government. He even pledged to hold a referendum after the Olympics on his performance as President. "Roh was seen as a successful born-again democrat," said Political Scientist Han Sung Joo of Korea University. "He endured personal and physical attacks without resorting to non-democratic responses." As Roh's appeal grew, the opposition fell into disarray. For weeks the two Kims jockeyed to see which of them would run for President. Both had previously pledged that there would be only one opposition candidate. Kim Dae Jung had actually declared that he would not stand. But ambition proved too strong a force, and by October it was clear that both men would be candidates. All the while, relations between the two Kims grew frostier. Only days before the election, Kim Young Sam called on his rival to drop out of the race. Kim Dae Jung's supporters responded by storming a printshop that had produced leaflets for the Kim Young Sam campaign and seizing flyers that, they insisted, said their man had withdrawn from the contest. Though the flyers were ambiguous, Kim Dae Jung attached Kim Young Sam as deceitful and "immoral." Kim Young Sam's forces called the attack a clear sign of panic. Throughout the campaign, the Chun government spared no effort on Roh's behalf. News programs by the two government-controlled television networks again and again showed Roh surrounded by warm, admiring crowds and broadcast his past speeches on days when he did not campaign. At the same time, a spate of news stories described South Korea's rapid economic growth in terms that reflected glowingly on the Chun government and the ruling party's candidate. So biased was the coverage that some 30 journalists from the government-owned KBS network staged a sit-down strike to demand more objectivity. Right up to the end, election fever swept the country. Crowds grew bigger, the cheering louder--almost as if the country were trying to make up, in a few weeks, for the years when strongman rule made a mockery of democracy. Kim Dae Jung claimed that 3 million people heard him at a single Seoul rally. Roh drew a turnout only slightly smaller in the capital. Kim Yong Sam attracted cheering crowds in cities along the route of a motorcade that would 300 miles from Pusan in the south to Imjin-Gak, just below the North Korean border. By election eve, following dozens of rallies and speeches, all three major candidates were rasping and wheezing; a sever cold, exhaustion and rising blood pressure forced Kim Dae Jung to cancel his final pre-election appearance. When he takes office in February, Roh Tae Woo will lead a South Korea that in a few short years has grown into one of the world's most vibrant industrial nations. "Any new President has to be really dumb to make a mess out of the South Korean economy," says Suh Sang Mok, senior economist with the Seoul-based Korean Development Institute. Fueled by exports of everything from cars to clothing, the South Korean gross national product is expected to grow by more than 8% next year. The country's new prosperity is astonishing. Per capita income climbed from $105 in 1965, when the country was a Third World backwater still recovering from the three-year Korean War, to $2,950 today. Roh's first task will be to heal the wounds inflicted by the election campaign. Before he even moves into the presidential Blue House, the government will have to cope with protesters claiming that the voting was rigged. In an interview with TIME's Barry Hillenbrand last week, Roh said the protesters were "opposed to the present democratic system." The way to deal with those people, he added, "is to make continuous efforts at dialogue and persuasion." He defended the use of pepper gas as "necessary to prevent violence from creating a more chaotic situation." Roh's status as a minority President should cause him to tread lightly in many areas. Says he: "I am aware that a considerable amount of votes went to the opposition candidates." Accordingly, Roh pledged to craft his policies "to reflect those wishes of the people who voted for the opposition." Roh also said he would consider opposition party members for Cabinet posts. That may be essential in any case. With National Assembly elections possible in February, the opposition could make a strong showing. In the 1985 National Assembly ballot, three antigovernment parties won 60% of the seats. After Roh's victory, many Koreans were calling for an era of reconciliation. In a sense, the election represented a struggle between the autocratic and faction-ridden South Korea of the past four decades and the democratic industrial state that is trying to be born. Roh's common-man approach may be just what is needed to speed the transition. "Roh is not vastly popular," Romberg said voters turned to Roh as the "man who could keep the country on course for prosperity and stability." Roh may also represent something deeper. Throughout much of their history, Koreans have held strong feelings against past conquerors and injustices. Such resentment is known in Korean as han. More recently, South Korea adopted a jaunty, animated tiger called Hodori as the symbol of the Seoul Olympics and the national spirit. In the race between the backward-looking han and the ever optimistic Hodori, last week's election may be a sign that the tiger has bounded ahead. By John Greenwald. Reported by S. Chang and Barry Hillenbrand/ Seoul. </body> </article> </text>