Bye-bye left and right: Korea's politics needs a new vocabulary
If you have been following the protests at Seoul's Olympic Park over election mishandling, you will know that the protesters insist they are neither left nor right.
Many commentators have welcomed this as evidence of a younger generation's independence from old political loyalties.
I think the protesters are onto something more profound: a reality that much of political commentary has yet to recognize. The routine description of Korean politics as a contest between a progressive left and a conservative right no longer describes what is happening. More accurately, it never really did.
The two main sides in politics today are descendants not so much of competing ideologies as of two political tribes that originated in historical circumstances that have largely disappeared.
A generation ago, when many of today's political leaders were university students, Korean politics was defined by two intersecting divisions.
The first separated an authoritarian government that claimed Korea was a "liberal democracy" from a democratic opposition determined to make it one. The ruling establishment justified its power in terms of national security, economic development and the threat from North Korea. The opposition argued that democracy itself was the overriding priority. This was a genuine conflict over political values and the country's future.
The second division was regional. It reflected Korea's networking culture, as most political leaders of the time came from the southeast. The split between the southeast and the southwest was so deep that it ran through the opposition itself and prevented democrats from uniting behind a single presidential candidate. As a result, the authoritarian-until-ten-minutes-ago ruling party won the first democratic presidential election in 1987 even though most voters preferred opposition candidates.
Those two cleavages have changed. The authoritarian state is gone and, however often some people portray the "right" as nostalgic for it, that is more political rhetoric than serious analysis. No major political force seeks to restore military rule. I say "major" because former President Yoon Suk Yeol's martial law attempt two years ago was reckless buffoonery by him and a handful of associates that horrified even his own party.
Regional voting patterns still matter, but they are a shadow of what they once were and explain less with each election.
That is not to say Korea has lacked distinct political camps. Rather than recognizing them as historical alliances, however, we gradually began treating them as ideological blocs. One became known as the progressive left, the other as the conservative right.
Yet those descriptions have always been poor guides to what either side actually believes.
Neither consistently champions progressive causes, nor does either consistently defend conservative principles. Both embrace activist government when it suits their purposes and market economics when convenient. Both invoke nationalism, protect vested interests and claim the mantle of reform while resisting changes that threaten their own supporters.
The labels persist largely because, well, we have not found a better way to describe the two sides.
For foreign observers, the trap is easy to fall into. Most come from countries where left and right reflect more distinct approaches to government, economic policy and social values. It is natural to assume Korean politics works the same way.
It does not.
The consequences are more than semantic. Thinking in terms of left and right discourages serious analysis because arguments become associated with tribes rather than judged on their merits.
Even expressing curiosity about a position associated with one side can invite smears and attacks. The worst offenders are often academics and journalists who should know better.
The election kerfuffle provides a live example. For the past five years, concerns about election administration — including incompetence and, in some quarters, allegations of fraud — were dismissed by many commentators simply because they were associated with the "far right." Once that label was attached, analysts who considered themselves progressive took the conservative approach of trusting the authorities and rejecting further inquiry.
In saying they are neither left nor right, the protesters at Olympic Park may therefore be offering more than a welcome display of political independence.
If Korea is to have a healthier democracy, it must stop pretending that every issue belongs to either the left or the right.
It is time to judge ideas on their merits and on the evidence supporting them, not on their tribal ancestry.
Michael Breen (mike.breen@insightcomms.com) is the author of "The New Koreans.” The views expressed here are his own.