By Jason Lim
There was a little confusion over names of political parties recently. Well, lots of confusion, actually. But it provides an interesting insight into the political narratives that will be in play come the June midterm elections in Korea.
Ahn Cheol-soo, the former darling of the progressive left who made his name originally for standing up for the rights of the little guy, had joined forces with the remnants of the Democratic Party, who had lost an internal power struggle with President Moon's supporters, to create the People's Party. It was necessarily a party with popular appeal geographically constrained to southwestern and central provinces.
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Ahn then pushed the People's Party to join up with the Bareun Party, founded by the remnants of the Liberty Korea Party, who had lost an internal struggle with the former President Park Geun-hye supporters. This also was a geographically constrained party, with its appeal focused on the traditionally conservative southeastern provinces.
You follow me so far?
To summarize, Ahn pushed the liberal losers and conservative losers to join forces in order to expand his appeal to a larger base, most probably with an eye towards laying the groundwork for another presidential run in four years.
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| Former People's Party chairman Ahn Cheol-soo, second from left, speaks during a gathering at the National Assembly to offer New Year greetings for voters. Ahead of the local elections in June, Ahn has pushed for a new party with the Bareun Party. Yonhap |
Many of his mates in the People's Party said, "Hell, no" to making nice with their former archenemies in the Bareun Party. Some of it, I am sure, was based on ideological incompatibility. But they were also worried about losing popularity in the traditionally progressive southwestern region if they joined hands with the hated southeasterners. This is like asking Yankees players to party with Red Sox players in public ― not going to go over well with their respective fans.
Be patient. We are almost there.
Ahn pushed the issue and dragged the People's Party to become one team with the Bareun Party. Of course, not everyone in the People's Party followed him; the remnants of now defunct People's Party formed a new party called the Party for Democracy and Peace.
Whew. You got all that? Now we come to the part that I wanted to get to in the first place.
So, Ahn forced the People's Party to join with Bareun Party to form a new party. It needs a name, right? So, he chooses to call it the "Future Party."
This is where it gets interesting because there already was a political party called, "Our Future." It was a party established in March 2017 by the twenty and thirty-somethings of Korea who, encouraged by the success of the "candlelight revolution," decided to take their future into their own hands by jumping into the political process. In fact, they had invited Ahn to speak in one of their initial policy roundtables; there's even a picture of Ahn holding a microphone emblazoned with "Our Future" visual brand.
Understandably, the folks in Our Future were miffed that Ahn decided to name his new party the Future Party. This is akin to having a Super Walmart set up shop next to your little Mom & Pop hardware store. Even worse, that Super Walmart is calling itself the same name!
Ahn couldn't even plead ignorance since he obviously knew that there was a youth-driven political party that already had "future" in its name. So, it was definitely a power move by Ahn in trying to muscle away the brand from the small fish, which was strategically questionable since Ahn still had a pretty strong brand as a champion of the travails of the youth in Korea. Well, that brand certainly took a hit.
All's well that ends well, I guess. The Korean National Election Commission came down on the side of Our Future and decreed that Ahn couldn't use the name, "Future Party." So, he renamed it as the Bareun Future Party or, literally translated, "Righteous Future Party." As opposed to Our Future, which apparently isn't righteous enough.
This would all be a minor blip in the rough and tumble world of Korean politics except that this incident represented a confluence of several public narratives that are going to be heard during this election cycle.
One, it's a story of political awakening in which the young are beginning to find their own voice without relying on establishment politicians to speak on their behalf. Two, it's a story of generational empowerment whereby the young have successfully challenged the establishment from taking away their public identity; this might seem trivial on the surface, but it's a heartfelt declaration that they belong. Three, will this be an inflection point for the Hell Joseon narrative? In other words, will the cynical energy that drove the Hell Joseon storyline turn into a constructive agent for change that can capture the imagination and hope of the rising generation? Four, which is the most important narrative, is which party will be the heir to the political awakening that accompanied the candlelight revolution?
I know that the Olympics is fun to watch, but the June midterm elections in Korea will be just as intriguing as a barometer of which national narrative Korean voters will choose to define their next several years and more.
Jason Lim (jasonlim@msn.com) is a Washington, D.C.-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture. He has been writing for The Korea Times since 2006.
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