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That is because, right now, there is still no evidence that the President did anything criminal and, even though the Constitutional Court may factor in public anger and rock-bottom approval ratings in its decision, it lacks real justification for the very serious step of removing her before her term in office is up.
Lee could provide the smoking gun. That is because prosecutors believe Samsung donated to the cultural and sports foundations run by the president's friend Choi Soon-sil, not for the good cause of promoting Korean culture and sports, but as a bribe so the Blue House would back Lee's controversial plan to merge two Samsung affiliates.
Right now, this is just a theory.
But, if prosecutors can soften him up with hours of interrogation, threats and periods of solitude, he might crack and incriminate himself and the two ladies.
If I could read Lee's mind, I would bet that he is thinking, "What planet do you idiots live on? We spend hundreds of millions a year donating to causes. It's called government relations. Of course, we wanted the Blue House to support the merger. No business wants to be on the wrong side of the Blue House. Sure, if Choi had been opposed to the merger, we might not have donated. But that is different from saying we bribed her."
But, as he sits in his cell with just a mattress for company, he may also be pondering the efficacy of Samsung's largesse in general and asking why it couldn't prevent his present predicament.
And that thought in the head of one man could be the start of a nightmare for many.
Take the media, for example. Many years ago, the managing director of one of Korea's leading newspapers confided his fear that one day the Samsung head would wake up in the morning and realize that there was no upside in supporting his media.
The support he was talking about is different from regular advertising. It comes in the form of unnecessary advertising, payment for advertorials that don't say "advertorial" on them, and straightforward donations.
"If Samsung stops these payments, the other chaebol will follow suit," the journalist said. "Most newspapers will close in a matter of weeks." That is because readership and normal advertising are insufficient to sustain the operations of most publications.
Such payment is not just to media. There is a whole history of the people who have cashflow ― ie, businesses ― being required to let some of their cash flow for the greater good over and above the demands of normal taxation. For example, to secure government approval of traffic flow plans for large-scale construction projects, developers may have to donate the land for or pay for access roads and other infrastructure that the government should normally pay for.
Then there is sports and culture. As everyone knows, despite all the screaming and shouting, the funding of Choi's foundations from chaebol donations is quite customary. The chaebol run sports teams and cultural projects and also donate to others on a large scale.
Most of the larger affiliates of chaebol are listed and, if their shareholders are aware of these donations, they probably assume it's the price of doing business in Korea. In fact, it is the price to pay for society's tolerance of the system by which families continue to control their chaebol despite holding minority shares.
But if Lee concludes that donations to government projects and to media and that the contribution to sports and culture have not saved him from detention and possibly from a jail term and the ignominy of having brought down a president, he may wonder if there is any point in continuing with them.
And, while that would be good for Korea in the long run, for the present establishment, the larger section of which is now railing at the president and fuming over the perception of her corruption, it spells the beginning of the end.
Michael Breen is the CEO of Insight Communications Consultants, a public relations company, and author of "The Koreans" and "Kim Jong-il: North Korea's Dear Leader."