Politics, International Relations and Diplomacy on the Korean Peninsula [1 ed.] 9781032491929, 9781032491936

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Routledge Research on Korea

POLITICS, INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS AND DIPLOMACY ON THE KOREAN PENINSULA Edited by Sojin Lim

Politics, International Relations and Diplomacy on the Korean Peninsula

This edited volume explores the past, present, and future of the Korean Peninsula, with special focus on South Korea, by connecting developments in politics with those in international relations and diplomacy. The book focuses on how South Korea’s politics and international relations have evolved since the founding of the First Republic in 1948, with particular attention to the period surrounding the 2022 presidential election. The authors provide new insights into Korean politics, including South Korean electoral reform and relations with China and Japan, North Korea’s nuclear capacity, and North-South diplomacy. Beginning with a commentary by Colin Crooks, Britain’s current Ambassador to South Korea and former Ambassador to North Korea, on recent British foreign policy changes and UK-Korea relations, this book will appeal to scholars and students of politics, international relations, diplomacy, and Korean Studies. Sojin Lim is Reader in Asia Pacific Studies (with special reference to Korea), Course Leader for both MA North Korean Studies and MA Asia Pacific Studies, and Co-Director of the International Institute of Korean Studies at the University of Central Lancashire, UK. She is the author of articles and book chapters on sustainable development and political economy. Her recent publications include International Aid and Sustainable Development in North Korea: A Country Left Behind with Cloaked Society (2024). She frequently discusses changes in the ­Korean ­Peninsula in media interviews.

Routledge Research on Korea

Series Editors: Niki Alsford and Sojin Lim, University of Central Lancashire, UK.

The Research on Korea series surveys key topics in the study of North and South Korea (both on the peninsula, and in the diaspora). It is a prestigious series that is multidisciplinary, covering the social sciences and arts and humanities. The series seeks to publish best new research from both senior and junior scholars. 1. South Korean Popular Culture in the Global Context Beyond the Fandom Edited by Sojin Lim 2. The North Korean Army History, Structure, Daily Life Fyodor Tertitskiy 3. Korea and the Global Society Yonson Ahn 4. Politics, International Relations and Diplomacy on the Korean Peninsula Edited by Sojin Lim

Politics, International Relations and Diplomacy on the Korean Peninsula Edited by Sojin Lim

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Sojin Lim; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Sojin Lim to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. This work was supported by Core University Programme for Korean Studies through the Ministry of Education of the Republic of Korea and Korean Studies Promotion Service of the Academy of Korean Studies (AKS-2020-OLU-20200045). British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Lim, Sojin, editor. Title: Politics, international relations and diplomacy on the Korean Peninsula / Edited by Sojin Lim. Description: New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Routledge research on Korea | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023006861 (print) | LCCN 2023006862 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032491929 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032491936 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003392569 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Korea (South)--Politics and government. | Korea (South)-Foreign relations. | Korea (North)--Foreign relations. | Korea (South)-Relations--Korea (North)--Congresses. | Korea--Military policy. Classification: LCC DS917.8 .P67 2024 (print) | LCC DS917.8 (ebook) | DDC 327.519305195--dc23/eng/20230427 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023006861 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023006862 ISBN: 978-1-032-49192-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-49193-6 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-39256-9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003392569 Typeset in Times New Roman by KnowledgeWorks Global Ltd.

Contents

List of Figures List of Tables Contributors Commentary by Colin Crooks Preface 1

Out of Proportion: The 2019 Electoral Reform and the State of Representative Democracy in South Korea

vii viii ix xi xiv

1

HANNES B. MOSLER

2

South Korea’s Democratic Experience: Political Leadership and Civil Society

31

KYOUNGHEE CHO

3

What Role to Play? Assessing the Republic of Korea’s Future Nuclear Diplomacy

49

VIRGINIE GRZELCZYK

4

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits: The Limits of Institutionalism in East Asia

69

ED GRIFFITH

5

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea in the Southern Cone (1950–1977) CAMILO AGUIRRE TORRINI

86

vi Contents 6

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense: Explaining Shifts in North Korea’s Construction of a South Korean Threat in State Media

106

BENEDIKT CHRISTOPH STAAR

Index132

List of Figures

1.1 (Dis)proportional Seats in the Korean National Assembly (1963–2020) 5 6.1 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing International Engagement Claims Compared to All Securitising Moves in New Year’s Editorials and Addresses (2000–2020) 114 6.2 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Referent Objects Compared to All Securitising Moves in New Year’s Editorials and Addresses (2000–2020) 115 6.3 Change of Securitisation Strand Ratio Before and After the ROKS Cheonan Sinking (2009–2010) and the Shelling of Yeonpyeong Island (2010–2011) 116 6.4 Change of Securitisation Strand Ratio Before, During, and After the Destruction of the Inter-Korean Liaison Office (2020) 117 6.5 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Referenced Threats Compared to All Securitising Moves During Political Conflict Between North and South Korea 117 6.6 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Strands of Securitisation Compared to All Securitisation and Desecuritisation Moves 119 6.7 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Legitimation Claims Compared to All Securitising Moves During Political Exchanges 120 6.8 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Referent Objects Compared to All Securitising Moves Involving South Korean Actors 123

List of Tables

1.1 Major Reform Proposals and Bills (2012–2016) 12 1.2 Major Reform Proposals and Bills (2016–2020) 13 1.3 Results and Hypothetical Simulations of the General Election (2020) 20 3.1 North Korean Nuclear Tests – Content Overview 54 3.2 South Korean Presidential Elections – Content Overview 57 3.3 Six-Party Talks – Content Overview 59 4.1 All of the Leaders’ Summits since Their Inception in 2008 77 6.1 Strands of Securitisation 109 6.2 Analysing Securitisation and Legitimation Claims in Speech Acts in North Korea 112

Contributors

Camilo Aguirre Torrini is a PhD Candidate at the University of Sussex, UK, and a Research Associate at the Comparative Korean Studies Center of the Central University, Chile. His work focuses on North/South Korean diplomacy towards Latin America. He holds an MA in Korean Studies from Seoul National University, South Korea. Kyounghee Cho has worked at Coventry University, UK, as a Lecturer and at Pusan National University, South Korea, as a Project Professor. Previously, she worked at the National Research Council for Economics, Humanities and ­Social Sciences in South Korea. She received a PhD in Politics and International Studies from the University of Warwick, UK. Colin Crooks has been the Ambassador to the Republic of Korea (South Korea) since 17 February 2022. Before this, he was the Ambassador to the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) from 2018 to 2021. Ed Griffith is Associate Dean of the School of Psychology and Humanities at the University of Central Lancashire, UK. He obtained his PhD in East Asian Studies at the University of Leeds, UK. He achieved two MA degrees: MA Japanese Studies at the University of Leeds, UK; and MA Chinese Studies at SOAS, University of London, UK. Virginie Grzelczyk is Reader in International Relations and the Head of the School of Social Sciences and Humanities at Aston University, UK. Her research focuses North Korean security relationships. She holds an MA and PhD in Government and Politics from the University of Maryland, USA. Sojin Lim is Reader in Asia Pacific Studies (with special reference to Korea), Course Leader for both MA North Korean Studies and MA Asia Pacific Studies, and Co-Director of the International Institute of Korean Studies at the University of Central Lancashire, UK. She frequently discusses changes in the Korean Peninsula in media interviews. Hannes B. Mosler holds the Chair for Social Sciences of East Asia with a focus on Politics and Society of Korea at the University of Duisburg-Essen, Germany,

x Contributors where he is affiliated with the Institute of Political Science and the Institute of East Asian Studies (IN-EAST). Benedikt Christoph Staar is a PhD Candidate in Political Science at the University of Duisburg-Essen, Germany. His research focuses on North Korean security, domestic politics, and propaganda.

Commentary

As the first British diplomat to serve as Ambassador consecutively to both halves of the Korean Peninsula, it is an honour to be asked to set the scene for this important and timely collection of scholarship with a short overview of the United Kingdom (UK) policy on the Peninsula and the wider region. The Integrated Review, released in March 2021, is the most comprehensive ­articulation of a foreign policy and national security approach published by a ­British government in decades. Following our departure from the EU, it reconsiders many aspects of our domestic and foreign policy, building on existing friendships but also looking further afield as we set our own policy in areas like trade and sanctions. The growing importance of the Indo-Pacific region to global prosperity and ­security is acknowledged as one of the primary geopolitical shifts to which British foreign policy must respond. The region is already critical to the UK’s economy, our security and our global ambition to support open societies. It is home to half the world’s people and by 2030, it will represent more than 40 per cent of global gross domestic product (GDP). There are big growth opportunities for UK trade, investment and business. There are also real security risks, including nuclear proliferation and cyber threats. And with many of the world’s biggest emitters in the region, if we want to tackle climate change effectively, we need to work with these countries.  Some of our most important global partners are in this region, and we need to work even more closely with them on these regional challenges, and to address global issues together. We are committed to long-term integrated engagement to ensure we safeguard UK economic and security interests, and that open societies and values are protected. This means investing in new partnerships such as through our new status as Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) Dialogue Partner and our application to join the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP). We will also work very closely on the IndoPacific with the Biden Administration, with whom we share many interests and values. The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK or North Korea) is explicitly mentioned in the Review as an example of our global ambitions, where we are determined to remain the most engaged non-regional partner on denuclearisation

xii Commentary and sanctions enforcement. Our embassy in Pyongyang gives us unique insights and access among our partners – especially given that, for example, no other Five Eyes partner has such representation. Sadly, we were forced to temporarily close the embassy in May 2020, following North Korea’s restrictions on entry to the country in response to the COVID-19 pandemic. But we will seek to re-establish our presence in Pyongyang as soon as we are able to return to smooth embassy operations. In the meantime, we maintain diplomatic relations with the DPRK and have appointed a new ambassador. We continue to believe diplomacy and negotiations are the best way to secure North Korea’s denuclearisation and look forward to working in close partnership with the United States (US) and other allies and partners to achieve this goal. We urge the DPRK to show restraint and work towards peace. Through cooperation, diplomacy, and dialogue, we are also committed to working together with the DPRK authorities to tackle mutual challenges, such as climate change and pandemic preparedness. Alongside our concerns about North Korea’s nuclear and ballistic missile programmes, we are concerned that humanitarian needs may be growing. Before COVID-19, we worked with partners to provide humanitarian assistance to the most vulnerable people in North Korea, principally through our assessed contributions to the United Nations (UN), as well as through international non-governmental organisations (NGOs). These partners have also been unable to maintain their operations under the border closures and we encourage the DPRK to allow entry for humanitarian workers to carry out an independent assessment of these needs, and to allow aid to flow freely into the country. The human rights situation is also a focus for our government and our ambitions to protect our values globally. We regularly call on the DPRK government, through bilateral and multilateral channels, to acknowledge and address the many reports of serious and wide-ranging human rights violations in the country, and to uphold its human rights obligations. As Group of Seven (G7) Leaders made it clear in June 2021, we call on the DPRK to respect human rights for all, and we urge the DPRK to cooperate with all relevant UN bodies, including allowing access by the UN Special Rapporteur on the Human Rights situation in the country. If, as the ambassador to North Korea, I was confronted by examples of the challenges in the Indo-Pacific region that the Integrated Review seeks to address, in my new assignment as the ambassador to the Republic of Korea (ROK or South Korea), I will be at the forefront of trying to grasp the opportunities. The UK and the Republic of Korea are friends and partners with dynamic and successful developed economies, and a broad base of shared values and global interests. The Republic of Korea is at the heart of the UK’s approach to the Indo-Pacific region and is precisely the kind of country with which we seek to deepen our cooperation across the board. Trade and investment sit at the heart of the relationship. South Korea was one of the first countries to agree to trade discussions with the UK following the EU Exit referendum. The FTA that we signed with the ROK in August 2019 has now entered into force and we will begin negotiations this year to update and upgrade

Commentary xiii it, ensuring that it delivers prosperity and social benefit to both our economies and people. The visit to South Korea of the Queen Elizabeth Carrier Strike Group in her maiden voyage in 2021 demonstrates our commitment to develop our defence cooperation. And our invitation to South Korea to participate in the G7 Summit during our G7 presidency demonstrates our commitment to develop our political and multilateral cooperation. President Moon’s attendance at the leaders’ summit and his return to the UK for the COP26 Conference in Glasgow represented for the first time that a South Korean president had visited the UK twice in a year. He also had meetings with our prime minister during the UN General Assembly in New York, breaking further ground in the frequency and depth of interactions between our leaders. Of the various areas highlighted in the Integrated Review, we enjoy shared interests with South Korea in all of them: climate change; supply chain resilience; protecting cyberspace; technological development; human rights; free trade; and disarmament. All of these areas offer rich potential to expand our cooperation for the benefit of people in both countries. South Korea is a prime example of both the reason for our Indo-Pacific tilt and its realisation. Colin Crooks British Ambassador to South Korea Former British Ambassador to North Korea

Preface

This edited volume aims to explore the past, present, and future of the Korean Peninsula, with a special focus on South Korea, by connecting developments in politics with those in international relations and diplomacy. In terms of its political development, until very recently, South Korea showed an interesting tendency in transfers of presidential power. After the transition to democracy in 1987, power shifted between conservatives and progressives every ten years. South Korean presidents are limited to a single five-year term. Two conservative presidents – Roh Tae-woo and Kim Young-sam – held office between 1988 and 1998, while the next two presidents – Kim Dae-jung and Roh Moo-hyun – who held office between 1998 and 2008 were from progressive political parties. They were followed by two conservative presidents again: Lee Myung-bak and Park Geun-hye. This second conservative hold on power fell just short of ten years though, with President Park Geun-hye getting impeached one year before the end of her five-year term. Continuing the pattern, she was followed by a progressive in office – Moon Jae-in, who served as the president until the 2022 election. However, this pattern was broken in 2022, when the conservative candidate, Yoon Seok-youl, beat his progressive opponent, Lee Jae-myung, by a very small margin: Yoon won 48.45 per cent of the votes, while Lee received 47.83 per cent. Many foreign observers, who were unfamiliar with the Korean election system, wondered as to how this narrow margin, with the leading candidate securing less than 50 per cent of the votes, could determine the final result without any further balloting. For example, in France, if the leading candidate does not win 50 per cent of the votes, a second round of voting is held. In the US, the winner is decided through the electoral college process. Neither South Korea’s presidential election process nor its overall electoral system is widely understood yet. Thus, in Chapter 1, Hannes B. Mosler explores South Korea’s electoral system and d­ iscusses recent changes with reference to the country’s historic transition to democracy. Following Mosler’s examination of South Korea’s representative democracy, in Chapter 2, Kyounghee Cho, reassesses the country’s democratic experience in terms of its political leadership and civil society. Cho argues that South Korean civil society has played a critical role not only in the transition to democracy but also in the process of democratic consolidation, providing a counterbalance to the political leadership.

Preface xv The pattern of clear differences between conservatives and progressives in matters of diplomacy and international relations as well. As democratisation has progressed over the past seven decades, South Korea has become a middle power in the diplomatic arena. For example, in 2021, President Moon Jae-in was invited to a meeting of the G7, held in the UK, as the representative of a non-member country, along with the leaders of Australia and India. This moment confirmed South Korea’s status as a middle power. While sharing the pursuit of middle-power status, conservatives and progressives have tended to show somewhat different understandings of what this means. Conservative President Kim Yong-sam developed his predecessor President Roh Tae-woo’s Nordpolitik into a policy of globalisation (or internalisation). A decade later, Conservative President Lee Myung-bak similarly set out a Global Korea policy, with President Park Geun-hye continuing the conservative vision with her Trustpolitik. In comparison, progressive President Kim Dae-jung was more well known with his Sunshine Policy towards North Korea, which was continued by President Roh Moo-hyun. Then, during President Moon Jae-in’s administration, a new era of the Sunshine Policy was pursued, along with his peaceful unification drive. Altogether, this resulted in fluctuation in South Korea’s foreign relations with its regional partners, including the US, Japan, and China. Most recently, the fiercely competitive presidential election in 2022 garnered great interest in the two candidates’ respective foreign policies towards the region – for example, North Korea and surrounding countries. Given this, in Chapter 3, Virginie Grzelczyk examines South Korea’s nuclear diplomacy, including its relation to presidential elections in South Korea and in the US. Ed Griffith’s analysis, in Chapter 4, expands the discussion of South Korea’s international and diplomatic activities. Considering the South Korean government’s efforts to position the country as a middle power in the global arena, Griffith revisits South Korea-China-Japan trilateral summit cooperation, which has its secretariat in Seoul, and discusses the dynamics of institutionalisation in the region, which have not been adequately addressed in the scholarly literature. Then, in Chapter 5, Camilo Aguirre Torrini takes a look at another rarely examined aspect of South Korea’s international relations. Aguirre Torrini analyses the historic diplomatic competition between North Korea and South Korea in South America, which was influenced by US hegemonic aspirations. Finally, in Chapter 6, Benedikt Christoph Staar provides a slightly different angle on North Korea-South Korea relations, analysing them from the perspective of North Korea. Staar explains how North Korea considers South Korea to be a potential ally rather than a threat, through an exploration of North Korean media. Existing literature tends to deal with South Korean politics, diplomacy, and international relations separately due to the different disciplinary approaches. A key benefit of this can be found in the in-depth analyses that focus solely on politics, diplomacy, or international relations. However, as the above account shows, the development of democracy and presidential characteristics in South Korea are highly linked to developments in the country’s politics, diplomacy, and international relations. While this is not a unique phenomenon, as a country’s diplomatic and international relations tend to change under different presidential leaders, the case of

xvi Preface South Korea has not yet been examined in this manner, especially in view of the recent presidential election in 2022. Also, the analysis presented in each chapter of this edited volume is not widely found in existing works. Therefore, this edited volume serves as a venue for new perspectives on one of the most analysed aspects of South Korea. Sojin Lim

1

Out of Proportion The 2019 Electoral Reform and the State of Representative Democracy in South Korea1 Hannes B. Mosler

Introduction Compared to other countries, South Korea (hereinafter, Korea) may be considered a young democracy, at the same time, more than three decades have passed since the country’s turn to formal democracy in 1987. Since then, the nation has made undeniable progress in consolidating democratic norms. Nevertheless, many of the attempts to provide the conditions for further deepening the quality of democracy have repeatedly been met with puzzlingly unsatisfactory results. Among the laws immediately related to the institutionalised political processes (jeongchi gwan’gyebeop), this is especially true for the election law. Elections belong to the core institutions of liberal and representative democracy because they have the elementary function of enabling and realising participation and representation as a basis for the selection of personnel, accountability, and system legitimisation. In this respect, the introduction in 2004 of the parallel mixed-member majoritarian (MMM) system for allocating the National Assembly’s 299 seats was a major leap forward. This reform of the Public Office Election Act (PEA; gongjikseon’geobeop) combined the parallel elections in two separate tiers through two ballots per voter. While with the first vote, seats were allocated in the 243 single-member districts (SMDs), with the second vote, the remaining 56 proportional representational (PR) seats were distributed according to the percentage of the party vote. Though the ratio of PR seats in the national assembly was still low at barely 19 per cent, the reform clearly helped to promote diversification of representation in parliament, as vividly attested to by new political forces entering the National Assembly, as well as other positive effects on representativeness (Song and Lee, 2021). However, during the almost two decades since the PR turn in 2004, Korea’s election system has not seen any further progress in this regard (Mosler, 2021). On the contrary, the number of seats allocated based on PR voting have decreased despite continuous, substantial consensus on extending them to enhance the quality of democracy. There was no lack of reform demands, ideas, or initiatives. Most prominently, assemblywoman Shim Sang-jeong of the progressive Justice Party (JP; Jeongui Dang) – a splinter successor of the Democratic Labor Party (DLP; Minjunodong Dang) – had been continuously pushing for reforms to further and more DOI: 10.4324/9781003392569-1

2  Hannes B. Mosler effectively promote parliament’s representativeness. Her proposal was to introduce a full-fledged mixed-member proportional (MMP) system modelled after the ­German electoral system with the particular aim of extending the share of PR seats to ensure a more proportionate representation of the people’s will.2 After passing through two legislative periods since 2012 that seemed like a Sisyphean odyssey, at times like a Kafkaesque novella, her bill was finally adopted in 2019. However, in the meantime, the original reform had metamorphosed beyond recognition into a deform that instead contributed to further deteriorating the electoral system. The new law introduced a semi-MMP system at the same SMD-PR seat ratio of 5.4:1 without properly regulating any possible loopholes that would allow major parties to misuse the law to their advantage. This happened even though the presidential office was at that time occupied by the outspoken liberal-reformist Moon Jae-in despite a general demand for further democratising reforms among the citizenry, and despite corresponding reform pledges and proposals by a majority of the political class.3 The existing literature on the matter concurs that this seeming contradiction can be explained by the major political parties’ cartel-like tactics to safeguard their hegemony irrespective of the severe repercussions for the overall political system and democracy (Chang, 2020; Cho, 2020; Jang, 2020; Yoon, 2020). Despite the obvious dominance of the two major parties and their vital interests in maintaining the rules of the game in their favour, the question nevertheless remains how they put this self-serving strategy into practice in concrete terms. The present investigation attempts to contribute to understanding the recurring pattern of idling political reforms in Korea (Mosler, 2012) by shedding light on this most recent instance of democracy pruning. Accordingly, this chapter addresses the question: Who subverted the 2019 electoral reform, how, when, and why? Drawing on the barriers approach (Rahat and Hazan, 2011), the analysis focuses on the legislative periods of the 19th (2012–2016) and the 20th (2016–2020) parliament to investigate the electoral reform’s process, contents, and outcomes to help to understand what keeps Korea’s electoral system and representative democracy in this state of disproportion. Theoretical Settings: The Usual Obstacles to Reform The reform of electoral systems is a demanding endeavour that involves complex institutional structures and diverse actors, which is why there is hardly one single approach that sufficiently accounts for the various factors involved. Therefore, increasingly eclectic strategies are preferred that address this challenge such as the ‘barriers approach’ by Rahat and Hazan (2011), which combines factors related to structural effects with agency-related factors (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 479). Based on extensive and multifaceted literature on political reforms, they produced a catalogue of seven sets of variables that they identify as the main hurdles for reformers to overcome if they are to successfully realise their objectives for change (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 479–490). While these potentially frustrating barriers are not always necessarily equally high or tricky, and their degree of difficulty may even

Out of Proportion 3 vary greatly across polities, issues, time, and other factors, they nevertheless represent dynamics that are always at play in representative democracies. In addition, the seven barriers are also interrelated and variably interdependent, as the following brief overview on the ‘barriers’ – divided into the two subsets of structural constraints and actors – will show. Structural Constraints

The first and most obvious barrier to change is the challenge of formally initiating a legislative reform procedure, and to make sure that it is not derailed at one of the multiple venues (committees, hearings, executive veto, popular veto, and so on), which the bill must pass through before it can be finally adopted (for example, procedural superiority of the status quo). While basically, reforms are possible outside of formal change, for the most part, any significant changes in the electoral system can be produced through legal modification only, which can be more or less demanding, for example, costly. Indirectly, the barrier of ‘procedural superiority over the status quo’ also includes the question of agency. Procedures can be more or less facilitating for initiating and processing a reform, but it needs actors to do so. The second barrier, that of the culture and political tradition of a given polity refers to the larger historical conditioning of a population that usually provides for a strong path dependency in determining its setting’s institutional design. The so-called older democracies are typically divided into majoritarian-leaning Anglo-American and consensual-leaning European-Continental political cultures. So-called young democracies, on the other hand, are assumed to be more open to reform because they often do not have a comparably matured tradition with respective effects. The third barrier is premised on the necessary compatibility of the institutional setting with the social structure of a given society. For this reason, it is anticipated that divided and heterogeneous societies are inclined to either hold onto or strive for a consensual situation, while homogenous societies are incentivised to either maintain or pursue a majoritarian electoral system. It follows that social change – either suddenly or incrementally – is a potential source of demands for amendment in the established design, and that reform attempts can be either a way of adapting to or countering social change. The challenge of the fourth barrier depends on two qualities regarding the election system-level rationale – efficiency and consistency. An electoral system is deemed efficient and thus weatherproofed against possible reform attempts if it balances the beneficial properties of proportionality and majoritarianism, together with personal accountability and party-centeredness. Reform might become more probable if a system produces outcomes contradicting the expected effects of its design, such as producing stable majorities or PR. Actors

The fifth barrier is the first of the remaining three hurdles that differ from the previous four in that they relate to agency effects. Vested interests of the established and powerful actors (political parties) represent the well-known gatekeepers watching

4  Hannes B. Mosler over and often frustrating change if it does not benefit them, for example, in maintaining or maximising seats. This is not necessarily limited to the biggest fish in the pond but also applies to the second biggest if it serves to secure their shared outcomes against any challenge from outside the cartel. On a different note, primary vested interests might be sacrificed in situations of potential loss of legitimacy among the electorate (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 484). The coalition politics between or within political parties (factions) is the sixth barrier, which alludes to the involved actors’ calculation in regard to stable coalitions that are beneficial for their effective and sustainable access to governing, for which they might even sacrifice the prospect of maximum power (number of seats) (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 485–486). The seventh and last barrier concerns disagreement over the contents of a reform and is based on the premise of a ‘game of chicken’ that can lead to unintended consequences – mostly in the form of thwarting a reform. This describes situations in which the majority might be in favour of reform but cannot reach an agreement on the actual form as a result of the involved actors trying to maximise their respective interests. Stuck in the Passable Barriers This section considers the barriers of political tradition, social structure, and ­system-level rationale first, as these relate to general characteristics and conditions, and thus share the common trait of being the most stable variables to be observed in this case study of the reform of the PEA in Korea. Heterogeneous Political Culture and Tradition

In principle, it is reasonable to assume that Korea is open to reform rather than not because it belongs to a category usually defined as ‘young democracies’, which are therefore assumed to be relatively open to change. In fact, this hypothetical openness (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 481 & 491) is vividly confirmed by the country’s history of incremental electoral reforms, which have become more numerous since the formal turn to democracy at the end of the 1980s (Mosler, 2021). The introduction of the MMM system in 2004 is a case in point. It can be best understood against the backdrop of the historical development of the share and quality of additional seats in Korea’s National Assembly.4 There are four phases that can be identified since the instituting of additional parliamentary seats (see Figure 1.1). While the first two phases cover the military dictatorships between 1963 and 1987, the third phase starts after formal democratisation in 1988 and ends in the early 2000s, when – shortly after the first government turnover – the fourth phase begins, characterised by various reform initiatives. More specifically, during the first phase (I), based on an MMM SMD FPTP5 single-ballot system during the Third Republic (1963–1972), one quarter of parliament’s total seats (bonus seats) were allocated to the three largest parties based on their seat share in the constituency election as is typical for an authoritarian regime attempting to maintain its façade of democracy.6 In the beginning of the second phase (II), the openly authoritarian

Out of Proportion 5

Figure 1.1  (Dis)proportional Seats in the Korean National Assembly (1963–2020)13 Source: Mosler (2021)

Fourth Republic (1972–1980), one third of all seats were given unconditionally to the government party.7 This share was somewhat scaled back in the ensuing Fifth Republic (1980–1988), which was still a military dictatorship. Now only two thirds of this one-third share was given to the largest party, and the rest distributed among the remaining parties. The third phase (III) begins after formal democratisation in 1988 and reduces additional seats back down to a quarter, which afterwards ­decreased even further. Also, the method of allocating seats to parties began to change to a relatively fairer method so that the fewer additional seats were distributed somewhat more evenly among the electoral contenders.8 What is remarkable in this respect is that at this point progress in political ­reforms, including this aspect of the electoral system, remained at a low level compared to the possibilities and demands at such a watershed event as a conversion to formal democracy. Major reforms of the electoral system at the beginning of the new century (2004/2005) mark the beginning of the fourth phase (IV), and again, we see for the first time noteworthy improvements with the introduction of an MMM system in general elections, where voters had two votes: one for a candidate in their electoral districts and one for a party on the national level (NAPA, §146).9 Now, additional seats were allocated through a decoupled secondary vote on a national party list and based on proportionality and, not as before, based on the number of seats won. Even if the share of 18.7 per cent among all seats was still limited, the reform helped to boost diversity in representation.10 This was vividly demonstrated by the historical entry into the National Assembly of the left-leaning DLP (Minjunodong Dang) in 2004, which since then has remained in parliament with 6 to 13 seats.11 However, despite these undeniably positive effects, the share

6  Hannes B. Mosler of additional seats never again reached the scale of the Fourth or Fifth Republic. On the contrary, the ratio of the now PR seats has been shrinking continuously. In other words, the fairer the allocation process became after the formal democratic turn, the smaller the share of additional seats to be allocated.12 As a non-Western country, Korea has a different political history, and thus is not directly linked to either of the two political traditions presumed by the literature (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 481). Due to its particular postcolonial condition, however, there are numerous indirect links to both the Anglo-American as well as the Continental-European political culture. Before, and in particular, during the Japanese occupation (1910–1945), the political structure and reasoning was strongly influenced by the German theory of state and jurisprudence, which is, for example, evident in its various modern constitutions beginning with the (Imperial) Constitution in 1897. Many legal scholars trained in continental legal tradition and in some of its government system design’s core characteristics that are still in place today (Mosler, 2017). Specifically, the affinity with features of parliamentary cabinet systems, including the important role of political parties, had been a notable feature since before Korea’s founding Constitution in 1948 (Mosler, 2017), and thus affects the way the electoral process is conceived in a correspondingly specific way. Since liberation in 1945, however, Korea had already been experiencing great influence from the USA and respective political traditions and concepts, which is likewise visible in many respects – the presidential system of government is one of the most apparent manifestations in this regard. Even after liberation, the influence of Japanese law persisted, which is strikingly visible in the reform of 1952 when a large set of restrictive stipulations concerning the regulation of campaigning was more or less copied verbatim from the Japanese election act (Song, 2005). Thus, this historic background does not provide significantly unambiguous clues in ­favour of or against certain reform attempts, except in the defining decades where the major political parties were overrepresented. Homogenous Social Structure

Korea is well known for having a relatively homogenous social structure compared to many other countries with strong religious, regional, gender, or other diversities.14 Despite the experience of centuries of wars between frequently changing alliances of different kingdoms on and around the peninsula, and despite the fact that also during the five centuries of the Joseon period (1392–1910), the country had distinct regional features and interests; a strongly centralist tradition in premodern, modern, and particularly in contemporary Korea, is one of the most characteristic features of the polity. Nevertheless, from the 1980s, at the latest, regionalist sentiments have been influencing the outcomes of elections, and thus represents a fairly deep-seated geopolitical cleavage. This regionalism, however, is not rooted in distinct ethnicities, traditions, religious beliefs, or other typical factors, but is mostly a result of the political leaders of the two major camps mobilising voters of the province from their hometowns (Kwon, 2004). In terms of ­political demography, despite a growing share of immigrants, multicultural

Out of Proportion 7 diversity is still at a comparatively low level (Klein and Mosler, 2021; Lee, 2016). It might seem even more surprising given this historical backdrop that in 2005, Korea became the first country in Asia to introduce voting rights for foreigners (Mosler and P ­ edroza, 2016). This enfranchisement, however, was limited to local elections only, and the number of those who are actually eligible for voting under this scheme is very small compared to the total number of foreigners in the country. In addition, those who are eligible belong to only a very few groups of nationals, and thus they do not represent the diversity of foreigners in Korea very well (see Chung, 2020). In addition, while the number of foreigners participating in elections has risen sharply since 2006, the actual voter turnout has been steadily decreasing. Thus, while in some respects, the voting rights for foreigners is a major achievement, it also does, at the same time, include major insufficiencies regarding their representation. Somewhat similar issues can be observed regarding gender representation. Beginning in 2000, candidate gender quotas were introduced to the Political Parties Act (PPA; Jeongdangbeop), and were moved to the electoral law two years later. According to the latest changes, not less than 50 per cent of proportional representative candidates must be women, who must be recommended for every odd number in the ranking of the candidate list, and efforts must be made to nominate at least 30 per cent female candidates for the SMD elections (PEA, §47).15 These reforms undeniably have led to the improvement of women’s participation and are a descriptive as well as substantive representation in the institutionalised political sphere (Kweon and Ryan, 2021). Not only has the share of women increased who were elected to PR seats but the number of female representatives of local constituencies has also risen (Kim, Eun-Hee, 2020). It is also true that during the legislation process, there were surprisingly weak fundamental objections to the introduction of a women’s quota as such. And, with increasing numbers of women in politics, the image and perception of female politicians as being at least as able as their male counterparts has been promoted. At the same time, the law prescribes legally binding quotas for proportional representative lists only, which is in itself a very small fraction of the total seats of Korea’s assemblies as discussed above, and features other peculiarities that, rather than fostering the participation of women, still inhibit their representation (Mobrand, 2019a). Thus, in sum, these characteristics are in line with the assumption that a relatively homogenously structured society tends to prefer a majoritarian, pluralist system over consensual, proportional representative electoral designs (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 482). There has been increasing change in Korea’s social structure, and reform attempts in this regard can be understood as effects of that in the sense of adapting to, or even promoting them. But the homogenous-centralist legacy still weighs heavily on the political system’s design, which is evident in the stringently limited reforms as discussed above that were successful to some degree but had the overall effect of maintaining a majoritarian system. In other words, the electoral system is simultaneously a cause for and an effect of a homogenously structured society, which thus contributes to explaining the system’s stability.

8  Hannes B. Mosler System-Level Rationale

Nevertheless, the obvious stark imbalance of Korea’s electoral system due to its ‘non-efficiency’ has indeed been inducing pressure for reform – in line with the assumed system-level rationale (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 483). Up to now, electoral systems have not successfully translated the will of the voters into policymaking because of the discrepancy between the extremely small fraction of assembly seats filled according to proportionality and the rest being allocated by the principle of majoritarianism. However, at the same time, the electoral system is quite effective in the sense that it provides outcomes that it promises, or what its reformers of 1987 expected of it to deliver, namely an overrepresentation of the two largest political parties. In this way, the system’s inefficiency is compensated for by effectiveness, that is, in delivering to the powerful actors in the polity, and thus strongly de-incentivising more fundamental reform attempts, leaving the system crippled despite reform pressures. In other words, the electoral system caters to the party cartel (Katz and Mair, 1995) rationale, which reproduces the hegemony of the two major parties by guaranteeing overrepresentation in parliament, and by insulating the system from potential challenges, namely hitherto underrepresented minor ­political parties such as the DLP from entering the institutionalised political arena in anything approaching substantial numbers. The Major Delaying Barriers as Stumbling Blocks for Reform This section examines how far the remaining barriers, disagreement over content, procedural superiority of the status quo, coalition politics, and vested interests can be considered for explaining the frustration of the 2019 electoral reform. (Dis)agreement Over Content

In Korea, extending the share of PR seats has always been met with scepticism, mostly in political circles, as well as in academia and the media. The reason is that this kind of change would entail either creating more parliament seats to level the number of PR seats with those of the electoral district seats’ or it would lead to reducing electoral district seats. Both options are said not to be realistic reforms. The former faces resistance from a populace ever more opposed to adding to the numbers of untrustworthy politicians (Gallup, 2015, 2018a) who prey on their tax money, while the latter will meet strong opposition from the established political parties who are naturally afraid of losing their guaranteed strongholds. Regarding the expansion of the PR electoral system as a core reform issue, there were five key questions on which the opinions of the involved political parties differed according to their respective vested interests, which have, accordingly, been increasingly debated since the last great reform in 2004. First, there was the question of whether to increase the overall number of deputies in the National Assembly to accommodate additional PR seats, or whether the total number was to be maintained, reducing the number of constituency seats instead.16 The two major parties – the conservative Liberal Korea Party (LKP; Jayuhan’guk Dang) and the liberal

Out of Proportion 9 Democratic Party (DP; Deobureominju Dang) – were, in principle, for maintaining the status-quo, taking advantage of a system that stems from their resourceful organisation and regionalist effects. They were also opposed to the proposal to add more seats in general based on the rationale that this ‘reform act’ (Rahat and Hazan, 2011) would be criticised by the citizens as a further waste of tax money, and thus lead to less support. The more direct reason was that more PR seats would mean more potential challengers to their quasi-monopoly of the N ­ ational Assembly. However, the DP had some incentive to present itself as more reformist and progressive, hence the increase in PR seats, since its president had been elected in the wake of the candlelight protests demanding an end to elite corruption and the recognition of popular sovereignty (Jang, 2020: 84). In fact, President Moon Jae-in, during election campaigning in 2017, was already making pledges for doing so once in office. The minor People’s Party (PP; Gungminui Dang) advocated reforms even more strongly because of the strategic reasons related to their size and resources, while retaining a somewhat in-between position because of the potential to tap into the advantages of its relative stronghold in the southwestern region of Honam. The progressive JP put forward the strongest argument for the PR expansion, due to their representatives being few in number, but also for ideological reasons – not least the hardly deniable assessment that the existing electoral system distorts the appropriate representation of the people’s diverse interests. In summary, regarding the number of parliamentary seats, several proposals were made, ranging from maintaining 300 seats to expanding the number to 360, to 368, or even to 400, and increasing the share of PR seats from 18 to 50 per cent.17 The different conditions and therefore strategies of the political parties involved are also reflected in their positions on the remaining issues. Besides the size of the PR seats’ share, the question whether to interlink (yeondong) the allocation of PR seats with SMD seats was another key issue. The idea behind linking or interlocking the two tiers was to alleviate the disproportionality between the vote and the seat share, and thus compensate for underrepresented parties by way of making the overall distribution of seat shares dependent on the electorate’s votes on political parties, as in the German election system. In addition, part of the discussed reforms was to divide the country into six electoral districts according to the proportion of the population (gwonyeokbyeol), in which the MMP election would be held. In this way, it was argued, the various opinions and interests of the individual voters would be reflected more accurately, and thus contribute to alleviating the problem of regionalism and the underrepresentation of small parties. A related proposal was to introduce a double-track candidacy that allows candidates running for a constituency to be saved even if they are defeated in the constituency by putting their name on the PR list at the same time. The electoral loser, by the difference of the smallest percentage of votes in the SMD election (seokpaeyul), can overcome this and win the election through the party’s PR list. Again, this was thought to alleviate regionalist effects and promote more successful candidates from smaller parties. Somewhat similar was the suggestion of reforming the SMD into multi-member electoral districts (MMDs; jungdae seon’geogu) to facilitate increased representation through politicians from smaller parties.

10  Hannes B. Mosler Initiating Reform in Two Acts

Assemblywoman, Shim Sang-jeong became a key actor among those involved in the reform process. Since she was a member of the minor JP, the institutional challenges to her activities to reform the system vividly demonstrate the constraints of the procedural superiority of the status-quo. Introducing a new law or reforming a law in Korea is not particularly demanding compared to other liberal democracies, but the process does involve various stages, venues, and potential veto players (­Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 480). The initiation of legislative process begins with ­either the president or at least ten members of the parliament submitting their ­respective bills to the national assembly. This minimum number used to be 20 but was halved in 2003 to promote access to legislation for minority interests. In addition, the chair of a parliament committee is eligible to submit a reform bill, and citizens can petition parliament to introduce a bill. It then will be transferred to the respective committees or might be deliberated on in specialised sub-committees; after that, having been cleared by the judicial committee, the bill is put in front of the national assembly’s plenary for the final vote, which is decided by a simple majority. After review by the state council (gungmuheoui), the president then signs the bill before it is officially put into force. Regarding changes in the election law, this depends on the degree and quality of the changes on whether the Constitution must be changed, which would of course, entail a much more demanding reform process, including a confirming national referendum in the end (Mosler, 2020a). But even if this is not the case, the president can veto a bill, and send it back to parliament. Then, presupposing opposition in one of the several committees, a bill can also be challenged by calling upon the Constitutional Court. In the case of the 2019 reform, however, this did not take place, and, on the contrary, a decision by the Constitutional Court, as discussed later, provided it with yet another persuasive argument. Act I – A Sisyphean Challenge (2012–2016)

The 2004 reform that introduced the MMM system for the first time enabled the JP (then DLP) to enter the parliament, including Shim, and thus was a precondition for a reformist representative, not unlike her, to become a reform agent at this level in the first place. Four years later, Shim ran for a second term in her district but was defeated by her conservative contender by six percentage points. Shim successfully re-entered the parliament in her district in April 2012, where she joined the Environment and Labor Committee, which became the main stage of her reform activities during the first year of her term. Only half a year later, Shim was elected presidential candidate for her newly established minor JP.18 The campaign period leading up to the presidential elections in December 2012 provided favourable conditions for advocating reform of the PR system. After five years of President Lee Myungbak’s conservative administration, the opposition attempted to pool resources as a way of regaining power, which is why the main contenders like Moon Jae-in and Ahn Cheol-su announced their reformist ‘new politics’ (­saejeongchi). Taking this opportunity, Shim proposed that the two contenders include concrete reform tasks

Out of Proportion 11 (Money Today, 2012), and later in a joint declaration with Moon announced their coalition formed around key reform issues such as the introduction of a PR system styled after the German model (Newsis, 2013). This attempt, however, failed shortly after the contenders Moon and Ahn unified their candidacy and neglected earlier reform pledges. Later, the liberal candidate Moon lost against the conservative Park Geun-hye, and thus, the DP remained in opposition. Again, Shim saw the opportunity to advocate for PR reforms in parliament, as the opposition had to demonstrate their reform potential, and took her cause to the National Assembly’s Special Committee on Political Renewal (Jeongchi Swaesin Tuekbyeol Wiwonhoe), which was formed in April 2013. This committee’s subcommittee ­became the new venue for Shim’s continuous reform efforts, while the reform of the PR system remained one of her core concerns.19 The main task of this reform committee and those which followed was to prepare reforms related to the upcoming local elections in the summer of 2014. In this regard, Shim waged a continuous campaign to expand the 10 per cent share of PR seats in the local election to 30 per cent, even though her party originally had demanded 50 per cent. In December 2013, she introduced a bill with this proposal, which was, however, together with several other similar proposals not adopted, and the local elections were held without changes in the share of PR seats (Money Today, 2013). Meanwhile, in January 2014 in a closely related matter, Shim had filed a complaint with the Constitutional Court to review the electoral law’s stipulation ­regarding the proportionality of election districts which at that time displayed a discrepancy of 3:1 between the constituency with the largest population and the constituency with the lowest population, and which should, according to her, be narrowed to at least to 2:1. This was a strategy to circumvent the common venue of the National Assembly in which she and her party were not strong enough (due to the electoral system!) to submit such a reform. In October 2014, the Constitutional Court decided in the complainants’ favour. It ruled in a 6:3 decision that the difference in population by constituency should be changed to less than 2:1 and that the law should be revised accordingly by the end of next year in the National Assembly (2014-heonma-53). In ensuing press conferences on the verdict, Shim referred to the Constitutional Court’s finding that the existing single-member constituency system has limitations, and in its current form, cannot guarantee the people’s equal rights (Shim, 2014b). To further expand the right to equal representation, she made an appeal to take the opportunity that this decision implied to completely reform the electoral system, linking this question of rectifying the disproportionality in election districts in particular to the expansion of the PR system (Chosun Ilbo, 2014). Drawing on this success and referring to the major parties’ several pledges to reform politics before the upcoming general elections in 2016, Shim in November 2014, made the case for introducing the German-style PR system and called upon the mainstream parties to jointly decide on the respective tasks for the soon to be established reform committee in the National Assembly (Shim, 2014a). This window of opportunity was further opened by the report of the National Election Commission (NEC; Jungang Seon’geogwalli Wiwonhoe) to the National Assembly in February 2015, which proposed changes in the electoral to expand the share

12  Hannes B. Mosler of PR seats to one third (100 out of 300 seats), and to introduce the double-track candidacy (NEC, 2015) (see Table 1.1). Consequently, Shim repeatedly pushed for her PR reform campaign in press statements and parliament speeches (Shim, 2015), and simultaneously called on every member of the parliament to individually sponsor her proposal. Additionally, in March 2015, Shim joined the newly formed parliamentary committee for political reforms, where she again advocated for the PR reform (Money Today, 2015b). Predictably, no members of the National Assembly sponsored her bill, nor could she convince her fellow members of the reform committee to consent to a PR seat expanding reform. It is an important detail here: Deputy Shim had not been able to introduce the bill before because no other deputy would sponsor it except those from her own party, which was insufficient even under the improved regulations for submitting a bill (as mentioned above). This is why she once again chose to circumvent the conventional route of reform initiation in April 2015 (Money Today, 2015a; News1, 2015); when she turned to civil society, and attempted by way of popular petition to introduce the bill to the Reform Committee. In other words, only by bypassing her opponents (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 488), she was able to finally table the bill before the committee.20 Her proposal increased the number of seats from 300 to 360, out of which 120 seats were reserved for proportional representatives (Choe et al., 2015), which had already been watered down from the original objective of a 1:1 PR ratio. This would have improved the ratio between constituency seats and PR seats from 5.4:1 to 2:1, which also would have been in line with the earlier proposal by the NEC (see Table 1.1). However, she was still not able to garner the necessary support of the committee’s members to adopt the bill and to transfer it to the next stage in the legislation process. And thus, the bill that in March 2016 was finally passed by parliament, had a ratio that was even worse than the existing one, as the number of PR seats were reduced from 54 (18 per cent) to 47 (16 per cent) out of the total 300 seats. Moreover, neither regional allocation nor coupling of PR seats were introduced; the double-track candidacy or second chance-rule was not adopted either. Table 1.1  Major Reform Proposals and Bills (2012–2016) Date

26 December 2013

25 February 2015

7 April 2015

2 March 2016

Proposer

Kim Seon-dong

NEC

SMD seats PR seats SMD-PR ratio Interlocked seats Interlock application PR district Double-track

245 123 2:1 123 100%

200 100 2:1 None N/A

Shim Sangjeong (Choe Byeong-mo) 240 120 2:1 120 100%

Committee for Security and Administration 253 47 5.4:1 None None

National No

Six regions Yes

Six regions No

National No

Source: Author’s own compilation.

Out of Proportion 13 And so, the 20th general elections of 2016 (May) were held based on this even further degraded election law. Act II – A Kafkaesque Drama (2016–2020)

The steeplechase started again after the new National Assembly was constituted in the Spring of 2016, with Shim being re-elected as well, who a year later re-joined the parliamentary committee for political reforms (Jeongchigaehyeok Teukpyeol Wiwonhoe). Meanwhile, the conservative President Park Geun-hye was removed from the office and liberal Moon Jae-in was elected president in 2017. The mass demonstrations (candlelight vigils) in 2016/2017 that led to the impeachment of Park were not only crucial for her removal but were also interpreted as a strong mandate for reforms. In particular, the new ruling camp styled themselves as the ‘candlelight government’ to push for reforms in diverse areas, including political institutions. This opened a potential for an even wider window of opportunity than before for Shim’s PR reform initiative because now the DP, who claimed to be progressive and reformist was in power. In December 2017, Shim was able to garner the support of four assembly members from other parties (two from each, the PP and the DP) to introduce her bill for PR reforms (see Table 1.2).21 What is more, in March 2018, less than one year after taking office, President Moon submitted a bill for the reform of the Constitution to the National Assembly, which included an article explicitly prescribing that ‘the seats of the National Assembly shall be allocated in proportion to the will of the voters’ (Art. 44 (3); President, 2018). The bill, however, was not supported by the necessary supermajority of the parliament, and thereby discarded. Even the JP boycotted the vote, criticising the law-making process of the bill as not conforming to democratic standards. This was regardless the fact that the JP was of the opinion that the contents of the constitutional reform were even more progressive than their own proposal (Mosler, 2020b: 477–478). Despite this failure of procedural democracy displayed by the Moon’s administration, the ruling camp’s reform drive as such stood,22 and thus allowed, if not facilitated Shim to reclaim an even more powerful role in spearheading electoral reforms. Table 1.2  Major Reform Proposals and Bills (2016–2020) Date

12 December 2017

16 January 2019

24 April 2019

23 December 2019

Proposer SMD seats PR seats SMD-PR ratio Interlocked seats Interlock application PR district Double-track

Shim Sang-jeong 240 (66.7%) 120 (33.3%) 2:1 120 100%

DP 200 (66.7%) 100 (33.3%) 2:1 ? 50%

Shim Sang-jeong 225 (75%) 75 (25%) 3:1 75 50%

DP 253 (84.3%) 47 (15.7%) 5.4:1 30 50%

National No

National Yes

Six regions Yes

National No

Source: Author’s own compilation.

14  Hannes B. Mosler Based on a strategic cooperation with the Democratic Peace Party (DPP; Minjupyeonghwa Dang), which held 14 parliament seats, the JP, with only 6 seats of its own, became part of a negotiating group (gyoseopdanche), which not only entitles its members to various crucial parliamentary rights and resources but also considers them for committee chairs. In this case, the negotiating group was given the chair of the Agricultural and Maritime Management Committee and the Political Reform Committee. The latter was run by Shim, who resumed the post at the first meeting in late October 2018, and in the remaining period presided over the ensuing committee debates.23 In early January 2019, the committee’s expert panel (jamunwiwonhoe), consisting of 18 politicians, political and legal scientists submitted their report, which recommended increasing the number of parliament seats to 360 in order to expand the share of PR seats to 120, and thus to obtain a ratio of 1:2 between direct seats and PR seats as proposed by Shim and others (Expert Panel, 2019: 11). The conservative LKP strongly opposed these reform plans, and that entire January was spent in negotiations between the parties. The DP proposed maintaining 300 seats, out of which 100 would be distributed according to PR. However, only a not further specified share of the 100 seats would be interlocked with the number of seats won in SMD, while the remaining share would be distributed ­independently (Hankyoreh Sinmun, 2019c). Meanwhile, the three minor opposition parties, Bareun Future Party (BFP; Bareunmirae Dang), JP, and the DPP, proposed to ­increase the total number of seats to 320 or 330, which would be divided into SMD and PR seats by a ratio of 2:1 or 3:1, while the PR seats would be completely ­interlocked with SMD seats (Hankyoreh Sinmun, 2019a). In early F ­ ebruary, the DP brought up the idea of fast-tracking the bill (sinsokcheori) to expedite the reform process.24 Other opposition parties (except the LKP) side with the DP’s reform proposal and the idea of fast-tracking. At the beginning of March, in her function as committee chair, Shim pressured the LKP to submit their own reform proposal, which led them to finally propose abolishing the PR system altogether, and reduce the number of overall seats by 10 per cent (News1, 2019). Shortly after, the three opposition parties decided to accept the yet again modified DP’s proposal, and toward the end of March, all minor opposition parties and the DP decided to submit and fast track a joint bill. Accordingly, in April, Shim successfully introduced an amended version of her original reform bill, this time with the support of 17 fellow lawmakers, including those from the BFP and the DP.25 According to the compromise, this new bill scaled back the reform contents from 360 back to 300 seats, from a 2:1 ratio to a 3:1 ratio (225 district versus 75 PR seats), and at a 50 per cent linkage rate. Despite being extremely watered down, the conservative opposition party LKP still heavily protested and even boycotted the bill’s submission to the reform committee. At the end of April, based on the respective application by a DP representative (Kim Jongmin), the bill was, nevertheless, fast-tracked in the committee by a majority of 12 votes over the abstention and protest of the remaining 6 LKP committee members (Gukhoesamucheo, 2019a: 8). Three months later, Shim was made to resign from her post as chairperson of the reform committee as a result of pressure from the oppositional conservative

Out of Proportion 15 LKP. Another month later, seven LKP members, including Jang Je-won submitted a request for the formation of the Agenda Mediation Committee (Jojeongwiwonheo) regarding four controversial bills,26 including the one by Shim, as an attempt to ­inhibit its processing. This was, however, to no avail, because of the committee’s deliberation and an ensuing vote – four DP members voted in favour, while two LKP members voted against – Shim’s bill was adopted as mediation plan. At the end of August, the reform committee finally adopted the bill for fast-tracked transferal to the next legislative stage, the Judicial Committee (Gukhoesamucheo, 2019b). Meanwhile, the conflict between the ruling DP and the major opposition LKP intensified with the fast-tracking of the controversial bill on reforming the Prosecutor’s Office, as well as regarding the hearing on the Justice Minister nominee Cho Kuk.27 The DP was thus in dire need of the minor opposition parties’ support. When in mid-October, the mediation attempt with the speaker of the National ­Assembly failed, the DP decided to pass the prosecution reform bill initially and to postpone the electoral reform bill to a later date (Newspim, 2019). Toward the end of October, suddenly, parts of the DP floated the idea of reducing the number of PR seats in the reform bill, which once more was strongly rejected by the minor opposition parties (Yonhapnews, 2019c). Already since August, the DP attempted to water down the ratio of 250 SMD to 50 PR seats (Yonhapnews, 2019b), a proposal that in November emerged once again (Maeil Gyeongje, 2019). The minor opposition parties JP, BFP, and DPP jointly took part in a demonstration demanding strong reforms, but half a month later, BFP and the New Alternative Party (NAP; Dae’an Sindang) rotated to side with the DP’s modified proposal (Hankyoreh Sinmun, 2019b). Meanwhile, JP and DPP insisted on the original bill (Chosun Ilbo, 2019b), only to finally, on 23 December, concede to the DP’s new proposal of 253 SMD plus 47 PR seats, out of which only 30 were negatively linked to the number of SMD seats applied at a rate of 50 per cent (Chosun Ilbo, 2019a). In other words, the MMP system’s compensatory mechanism was adopted only halfway through and was capped at 30 seats. Other elements of the original electoral reform proposals such as conducting PR elections in several districts, the double-track candidacy, and MMDs were abandoned (Yonhapnews, 2019a). Consequently, by passing the law on 27 December, the share of PR seats was again reduced back to the original number of 47, and so, the SMD-PR ratio was back at 5.4:1. Vested Interests and Coalition Politics

Vested interests and coalition politics were indeed the major barrier that, in the end, prevented the reform from happening. Shim and her JP, as well as the other three minor opposition parties (BP, DPP, and ANP), had the strongest interest in reforming the electoral system in such a way as to position themselves with opportunities for winning seats vis-à-vis the mainstream parties, and they were supported in this endeavour by ‘public pressure’ to reform the political system in general. For all actors involved, it was ‘clear who wins and who loses from [an]

16  Hannes B. Mosler electoral reform’ (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 489) that extends the share of PR seats at the expense of electoral district seats. The large parties benefit from a greater share of election district seats because they have the resources needed to succeed in these elections. Thus, for them it was a loss-making deal. This is even more the case for the conservative LKP, which has a traditional stronghold in the southeastern Yeongnam region, which accounts for roughly twice as many voters, and thus, electoral districts, to be won relatively easily. Likewise, the DP builds its power based on electoral district seats, mainly in the southwestern Honam region, but at the same time, draws support from its relatively reformist stance. Being in the opposition made it particularly attractive for the DP to tap into this political capital, which is why the DP expressed interest in reforms and supported the causes of smaller parties during the 19th legislature (2012–2016). The conditions for the continuing reform efforts by Shim and her JP as well as the other three minor opposition parties during the 20th legislative period (2016–2020) were similar, even though now the DP was the ruling party. The DP became the governing party in the wake of the mass demonstrations that led to the impeachment and unseating of President Park Geun-hye in 2017. Now, the self-proclaimed candlelight government and the ruling DP could hardly reject democratising reforms such as the one proposed by Shim, and indeed the DP not only helped her to resume a powerful post as the chair of the parliamentary reform committee but also finally supported her reform bill, though watered down. One major reason for this transformation to a pro-reform posture was that the DP intended to enact several sweeping reforms, which the major opposition LKP was strongly opposed to, such as the establishment of the Anti-Corruption Agency and balancing the power relations between the police and the Office of the Prosecutor. Then, without the votes of the minor opposition parties, the DP would not be able to pass these laws on its own. This pressed the DP to compromise on its interest regarding the share of PR seats. Also, the involved ‘expert committees’ for the most part supported the reform plans; while among the citizenry, the PR reform continue to be ‘popular’ (Rahat and Hazan, 2011: 488). In this context, Shim Sang-jeong was able to finally submit her bill in a united ‘reformist coalition’ against the conservative LKP, though tuned down to ­accommodate the DP’s preference for electoral district seats. At the same time, the ­strategic alliance also explains why in the end the DP used the opportunity to scale the reform back to the existing PR share, which left only one sole i­ nnovation, that of negatively linking 30 out of the 47 PR seats to the support rate of a given party in the election districts. The DP had already put all the other three controversial reform bills (Corruption Investigation Agency Act, Prosecutor’s Office Act, and Criminal Procedure Act) on fast track, and now it no longer needed the minor parties’ support. The JP, on the contrary, had no other option than to accept this minimal reform as it had no leverage at all. In sum, this blockade of vested interests was indeed the crucial hurdle the reform was unable to successfully jump over in the end, and, even more problematically, led to the instrumentalisation of the new system with ever more drastic repercussions as discussed in the ­following section.

Out of Proportion 17 Discussion: Assessing the Quality of the New Electoral Law One of the four basic social functions of law to which the PEA relates is the ‘­allocation of authority and the arrangement of procedures that legitimise action as being authoritative’ (Llewellyn, 1940: 1373). In order to successfully realise this function, the law ‘must be capable of guiding the behaviour of its subjects’ (Raz, 1979: 214; italics in the original). The criteria for such a law include the application of transparency and democratic principles already in the law-making process so as to guarantee a first-rate outcome. The basic constituting elements of such a legal stipulation are that its meaning is clearly stated, fair, and prospective so that all affected users understand its meaning, accept its norms, and can anticipate the consequences of possible disobedience. In addition, there must be authorities ensuring that the laws are applied in a reasonable manner, which means equal and predictable application according to the purposes the law was intended to serve (Raz, 1979: 214–218). Law-making process. In terms of the legislation process, we saw that it proved to be relatively exclusive, because already the introduction of the election law bill by the reformist JP was obstructed by the major parties. The investigation showed that though no outright legal misconduct could be detected, the LKP in particular mobilised all institutional instruments available to prevent the reform from succeeding (Jang, 2020: 90). The DP, while basically agreeing to improve the electoral law, also made great efforts, though more subtle, to inhibit the reform by means of strategic bargaining (Jang, 2020: 91). In the beginning, most of the legislation was transparent in that formal meetings were held and recorded. However, as time passed and the antagonism between the two major parties intensified, the controversial fast-tracking procedure was initiated, which led to omitting further deliberative procedures. Increasingly, meetings were held on camera and the decisions were taken in back rooms. The final changes by the ruling faction to the already submitted reform bill took place under even more restricted circumstances, neither open nor transparent. Thus, the law-making process turned out to be quite opaque and insufficiently thought through in its crucial stage, allowing the ruling DP to dominate the overall process, including its final outcome. Complicated and unfair stipulations. The PEA has clearly become ‘confusing and misleading to all the relevant actors in the election’ (Yoon, 2020: 187). One of the repeated criticisms of the reform proposals to introduce an improved PR election system in the first place has been the difficulty of understanding its detailed contents due to the complexity of its design for accommodating ‘the best of two worlds’ (Shugart and Wattenberg, 2001). Indeed, MMM systems, but more so, MMP systems, have a complex design that is difficult for a layperson to grasp. This complexity stems from the daunting task of balancing majoritarianism and proportionality, which are both fundamental means of decision-making in a democracy. Thus, it is a question of whether comprehensibility (Maeil Gyeongje, 2020) can be sacrificed to obtain an improved balance between these two crucial factors. The complexity of this particular law is mainly caused by political compromises – the semi-MMP – to combine two different PR seat allocation modes with the SMD

18  Hannes B. Mosler election. The allocation of 17 non-interlocked PR seats to a party remains the same as before (see the following formula). The number of seats (s) are the result of multiplying the total number of non-interlocked PR seats (p) with the ratio of support an eligible party28 received through the second vote (rp ).

s = p ⋅ rp

The distribution of the 30 interlocked PR seats to a party (s′) is far more sophisticated (see the following formula). First, the number of SMD seats won by independents (i) are subtracted from the total number of seats (t) prescribed by the PEA (§21). The result is multiplied by the ratio of the support the party received through the second vote (rp ) to match the party’s vote proportionality. The next step interlocks the PR seats with the SMD seats to ‘compensate’ underrepresented parties by subtracting the number of seats won by the party’s candidates in the SMD (c p) from this figure. The result is divided by two as the interlocking is applied at a rate of 50 per cent only. Since the distribution of interlocking PR seats is limited as prescribed by the PEA (Add-16864 §4),29 the adjusted figure is divided by the sum of all eligible parties’ individual results (k), and then multiplied by the total number of interlocked PR seats (l), and the result adjusted downwards. If the sum of the individual results does not match the total number of interlocked PR seats (l), the remaining seats are allocated to each eligible party in the order of the largest decimal point (PEA, Add-16864, §4). The law’s stipulation might be considered fair regarding the principle of equality of participants in an election – the contenders and the voters all are given (more or less) the same rights and opportunities. However, concerning the principle of equity, since there are great differences between the contending parties’ preconditions, which is one of the major reasons for the reform attempts in the first place, the law can be said to be insufficiently fair and overly impartial. In other words, the failed reforms led to retaining and reproducing an unlevelled playing field. Misusing the law. As a result of the exclusionary legislation process, the law became even more ‘ambiguous, […] obscure, or imprecise’ (Raz, 1979: 214), and thus it became more ‘likely to mislead or confuse’ (Raz, 1979: 214). Or even to be misused: besides the code’s general overcomplexity, the law could not effectively prevent circumventing its original intention of PR seats coupling. The two already privileged major parties took advantage of the loopholes in the law that allowed evading the sole retained innovation – the mechanism to compensate for distortions in representativeness due to the majoritarianism in the district elections (Cho, 2020: 270; Yoon, 2020: 187). In the run-up to the 2020 general elections, first, the conservatives, and shortly afterwards, the liberals, formed satellite parties (wiseong jeongdang) to harvest the coupled PR seats.30 This was possible because of the calculation method for distributing PR seats. Their fake parties (wijang jeongdang) did not nominate candidates for local constituencies to maximise their

Out of Proportion 19 semi-­coupled PR seats. Because in this way, they would not be affected by the coupling effect that would have led to eliminating PR seats relative to the seats they won in the local constituencies. In other words, both major parties preyed on the one remaining innovation of what was left of the original reform – the 30 seats that were semi-coupled to the constituency seats. So, even this minimal improvement, which was thought to give a slight advantage to smaller parties, was bypassed by way of forming dummy parties. Ultimately, by creating decoy parties, the major parties not only neutralised the only remaining shred of progress but also were able to secure even more PR seats than they would have without the coupling (see Table 1.3). This is the result of exploiting the law by applying a ‘collective split-voting strategy’ that ‘distorts the proper functioning of the electoral system’, thus posing a genuine threat to the legitimacy of not only the elections but also the ruling majority as well as the overall political system (Bochsler, 2012: 414). This problem of possible misuse of MMP systems is not unknown, as recently similar phenomena of misapplication have been observed in countries such as Albania (2005), Lesotho (2007), and Venezuela (2005), and its problematic nature is well captured in the assessment that this type of electoral system works properly ‘only for honest men’ (Bochsler, 2012: 403; cited in Cho, 2020: 254). Unattended consequences. Legally, however, this was not seen as a problem – at least from the official point of view of the NEC (Yonhapnews, 2020), which is yet another serious problem. According to the Constitution, the NEC has the duty of administering and managing political parties and elections (Art. 114–116). In this context, the NEC has the authority to interpret (yugwonhaeseok) and apply related legal regulations. When serious issues were pointed out regarding the establishment of fake parties (PSPD, 2020), the response of the NEC (NEC, 2020b) left many observers sceptical. Since the satellite parties were established for the sole aim of harvesting a maximum number of seats in the PR tier, doubt was cast as to whether these dummy parties would be in conformity with the law. The NEC, however, argued that clone parties did not contradict Article 8 of the Constitution, which stipulates that ‘[p]olitical parties shall be democratic in their objectives, organisation, and activities, and shall have the necessary organisational arrangements for the people to participate in the formation of the political will’. The NEC also claimed that forming fake parties did not violate Article 59 of the PPA, which prohibits ‘false registration application’, which is easily suspected if the pop-up parties are set up only temporarily. Moreover, the NEC did not see the possibility of verifying whether or not duplication of party membership had occurred, which is prohibited by the PPA (§42 (2)), because to do so it would have to access internal documents of the parties and thereby encroach upon the party’s freedom of activities as stipulated in the PPA (§37). In addition, regarding the nomination of candidates, the NEC contended that they assume the fake parties will follow democratic procedures for candidate selection as required by the PEA (§47 (2)), even though internal party statutes allow for suspecting the opposite. Against this backdrop of operatives from both main parties having been found to have participated in promoting their side-shoots, doubts were raised as to whether this violated the law, which prohibits election campaigning for candidates of alternative parties

20  Hannes B. Mosler

Table 1.3  Results and Hypothetical Simulations of the General Election (2020) General Election 2020

Election Simulations Total

Party Name

Democratic Party Democratic Citizens Party United Future Party UFP (former LKP) Camp Future Korea Party Justice Party People’s Party Open Democratic Party Independents DP Camp

SMD Tier

PR Tier

Total

Total

Without decoy parties

Without decoys and applied to 47 seats

Individually

Sum Seats (%)

Seats (%)

∆

Seats (%)

∆

180 (60)

169 (56)

−11 (−4)

163 (54)

−17 (−6)

103 (34)

97 (32)

−16 (−2)

93 (31)

−20 (−3)

6 (2) 3 (1) 3 (1) 5 (2)

14 (5) 9 (3) 7 (2) 5 (2)

+8 (+3) +6 (+1) +4 (+1) n.a.

17 (6) 12 (4) 10 (3) 5 (2)

+11 (+4) +9 (+3) +7 (+2) n.a.

Seats

(%)

Seats

Votes (%)

Seats

(%)

163

64.4

0

0.0

163

54.3

0

0.0

17

33.4

17

5.7

84

33.2

0

0.0

84

28.0

0 1 0 0 5

0.0 0.4 0.0 0.0 2.0

19 5 3 3 n.a.

33.8 9.7 6.8 5.4 n.a.

19 6 3 3 5

6.3 2.0 1.0 1.0 1.7

Source: Author’s own compilation based on data from the NEC (www.nec.go.kr).

Out of Proportion 21 (PEA §88). The NEC, however, presenting a contradictory interpretation of this article, found no violations whatsoever (NEC, 2020a). All in all, this exposes a Janus-faced NEC; one side progressive and critical ­concerning civic education and the improvement of the electoral system and its electoral laws, even proposing innovations in the electoral system itself, then switching to its conservative face when it comes to applying and implementing these innovative (democratic) ideas and norms (Mobrand, 2019b). Later, the ­Supreme Court also reconfirmed the validity of the NEC’s interpretation by ruling that the activities related to the establishment of decoy parties did not violate the involved regulations (Supreme Court, 2021). Nevertheless, there is room for scepticism as to whether the NEC and the Supreme Court ensured that the laws are applied reasonably regarding their intended purposes. Purposelessness of the law. The reform bill, even though it might be too early to judge it as ‘the worst of both worlds’ (Doorenspleet, 2005; cited in Yoon, 2020: 185), is in the end, far from serving the purpose of what the reform movement originally intended (Chang, 2020: 175). Ultimately, the aim of any law is gauged by its users. In the public sphere, however, there was biting criticism of the deformed law and its questionable application. The majority was against allowing satellite parties, while civil society organisations demanded their dissolution (Donga Ilbo, 2019; Hankook Ilbo, 2020; Newsis, 2020). In the end, though, the people had no real choice but to cast their votes for the satellite parties. The election results turned out to be as anticipated (see Table 1.3). Together, the two major parties were able to gain 67.2 per cent or 36 seats of the 47 PR seats, while the minor parties had to share the remaining 11 PR seats. If it were not for the decoy parties, the simulations show that the DP and the UFP31 would have received 11 and 16 PR seats and fewer PR seats, and 17 and 20 PR seats if the interlocked PR election system had been extended to all of the 47 PR seats. More importantly, the simulations confirm that in these cases the minor parties would have been able to become two to four times larger because they would have been compensated for their stark disadvantage in the SMD elections. These two admittedly conservative simulations allow us to imagine how much of a difference Shim Sang-jeong’s reform proposal, with its 2:1 ratio, double-track candidacy and regionally conducted PR elections, would have made to Korea’s democracy. Conclusion Who subverted the 2019 electoral reform, how, when, and why? Tracing the process back from Korea’s most recent electoral reforms during the last decade, the analysis revealed how the winds of change were obstructed by sky-high barriers, making the endeavour a Sisyphean challenge as well as a Kafkaesque drama for Shim Sang-jeong and other reform-minded actors, who found themselves caught up in a struggle against an unreasoning and unreasonable party cartel. Korea seemingly presents the paradox of a (no longer) young democracy that, nevertheless, supposedly belongs to those few resilient cases still standing amid the global trend of democratic backsliding. The secret of Korea’s democratic acumen might indeed

22  Hannes B. Mosler lie in the way the country transitioned to a democracy a decade earlier, characterised by political elites negotiating a compromise in their exclusive interests, thus providing the basis for both political camps to remain in the game even under the new rules (Wong, 2019). This, in turn, has had a generally stabilising effect, which facilitated democratic consolidation. But how then can we make sense of the apparent dysfunctionalities, which every now and then prompt civil society to step into quench yet another fire? What is more, how do we explain the apparent disinclination of the political class when it comes to implementing democracy-enhancing reforms impacting political parties, parliament, the Public Prosecutor, and the electoral system? This is related to the other side of the coin of Korea’s historic transition to democracy, which has been identified as ‘transplacement’ (Huntington, 1991) or ‘democratisation by pact’ (Shin, 2012). This mode of democratic transition prevented bloodshed and chaos to a certain degree, but simultaneously deprived the country of the opportunity for a rectifying caesura to recalibrate democracy as a precondition for reinforcing its quality. In other words, the price of Korea’s supposed democratic resilience is paid for by its very inadequacy. The electoral deform of 2019 and the misuse of the new law’s loopholes by the two major parties and their vested interests can then be understood as the latest instance in a long line of elite cartels wilfully stonewalling by refusing to perform their sworn duties as elected officials; the end result being that Korea’s system of representative democracy continues to be seriously disproportionate. Notes 1 Draft versions of this chapter were presented at the K-Law Forum 2020 ‘Views from the World’, Korea Legislation Research Institute (KLRI), 19–20 November 2020, and 2022 IKSU Annual International Conference ‘Korean Politics and International Relations at Crossroads: Past, Present and the Future’, University of Central Lancashire, UK, 7–8 January 2022. The author thanks Celeste Arrington, Jae Sun Kim and Jamie Doucette for their comments and suggestions that greatly helped to improve the chapter. 2 In the German electoral system, this accounts for not only the PR seats for half of the total parliament but also the share of party votes (second ballot) determines the overall proportion of the seats in the parliament. 3 Though the support rates fluctuate over time, and depending on how the questionnaire items are worded, surveys show a general support for electoral reforms and the extension of the PR system (Gallup, 2018b & 2019). 4 Here, additional means in addition to those seats that were won in local constituencies. Except for the first five elections (1948–1960), there has always been some kind of combination of electoral district seats with additional party seats. 5 In the first-past-the-post (FPTP) system, the candidate who receives the most votes wins the election. 6 These bonus seats were called National Constituency Representative (NCR) seats and had the function of bolstering the majority of the ruling party in the parliament. This becomes obvious with the stipulation that a party with the largest SMD seat share did not win 50 per cent of all SMD seats unconditionally received 22 bonus seats (­National Assembly Members Election Act (1963), §125). 7 At this time, these bonus seats were labelled as Political Fraternity for Revitalization (yusin jeonguhoe).

Out of Proportion 23 8 In 1996, the share hits the lowest level with 15.4 per cent, and then began to slightly increase afterwards, but only to mere 18.7 per cent in 2004. 9 Two years earlier, this voting system had been applied to regional elections (NAPA – National Assembly Election and Prevention of Election Corruption Act). 10 The election threshold for being assigned PR seats was modified to either a minimum of five won constituencies or at least a 3 per cent vote share of the party votes (§189). Hitherto, it had been five constituencies or 5 per cent of the votes. 11 This particular reform of the law was a consequence of the Constitutional Court ruling the law limited (hanjeong habheon) because it did not allow the voter to decide who will be elected through their second ballot. The DLP was one among three complainants who filed this appeal with the Constitutional Court on 16 February 2000, on the grounds that their right of equal representation and electability was infringed upon (Constitutional Court, 2001). 12 In addition, this particular phenomenon of self-restricting reforms is not limited to the additional PR seats but concerns much wider domains of the electoral system. Another remarkable reform in this regard was the revision of the Political Parties Act (PPA; Jeongdangbeop) abolishing local party organisations (jigudang, §3) in 2004, which was particularly damaging for minor progressive parties, who strongly depended on their grassroots organisations (Mosler, 2012). Other reforms in 2004/2005, 2008, and 2010 led to heavily regulating election campaign periods, promotion material, speeches, and other activities related to campaigning as well as party organisation. 13 Incongruences between share and number of additional seats are due to changes in the total number of additions over time (see Mosler, 2021: 46). 14 There has been and to a certain extent still is a dominating discourse in Korea that claims a strong homogeneity of the Korean people, which is fuelled by elements of nationalism and chauvinism, which is why an assessment of the country’s relevant figures must be cautious. For a recent account of growing heterogeneity and multicultural governance, see Howe (2021). 15 Also, at least one female member for each constituency of the National Assembly shall be a nominated candidate for elections for posts on the various local administrational levels (Howe, 2021). 16 Yet other options that were also on the table were the questions as whether to maintain the number of PR seats, or whether to reduce or even abolish PR seats. 17 For example, in 2013, Kim Seon-dong submitted a bill that proposed extending the number of representatives to 368 (Kim, 2013), while in 2015, Shim Sang-jeong proposed a number of 360 (NocutNews, 2015) and Moon Jae-in proposed increasing the number of seats to 400 (Yonhapnews, 2015). 18 The JP broke away from the more radical leftist wing of the United Progressive Party in October 2012, which reduced its assembly seats from 13 to only 5. 19 The Committee held a plenary session on 25 April and initiated full-fledged activities such as forming the Political Renewal Task Review Subcommittee (Swaesin’gwaje Simsa Sowiwonhoe). The subcommittee consisted of four members of the Saenuri Party (predecessor of the LKP) (Kim Jae-won, Park Min-sik, Yoo Seung-woo, and Lee Myung-su), three members of the Democratic United Party (Kim Jin-pyo, Kim Taenyeon, and Kim Kwan-young), and Shim Sang-jeong of the Progressive Justice Party. During the first meeting of the subcommittee (6 May 2013), Shim made various statements in which she argued for expanding the 10 per cent share of PR seats in the local election to 30 per cent, even though her party originally demanded 50 per cent (Gukhoesamucheo, 2013: 7). 20 According to the National Assembly Act, §123, a petition (bill) through the introduction by a member of parliament bypasses the usual condition of ten fellow parliament members supporting the proposal. 21 The bill extended the total number of seats to 360, out of which 240 were allocated through SMD elections, while the remaining 120 seats were distributed by way of the

24  Hannes B. Mosler PR election, that is, based on the party vote share of the second ballot. In addition, the 120 seats were negatively interlocked (yeondong) with the number of won SMD seats (Shim et al., 2017). 22 In August 2018, for example, President Moon at a meeting with all five parliament parties’ leadership once more stressed the importance of expanding the PR system by saying that ‘I have argued earlier than anyone that the reform of the electoral system to strengthen proportionality and representation is absolutely necessary, and in the 2012 presidential election, I already promised a proportional representation system for each region’s party list’ (Hankyoreh Sinmun, 2018). 23 Initially, when the opposition and opposition parties agreed to form six special committees, including the special committee for reform on 10 July, it was agreed that the special committee would consist of nine people from the DP, six from the LKP, two from BFP, and one from ‘Peace and Justice’. But then, when JP lawmaker Roh Hoe-chan passed away and the coalition of JP and DPP (‘Peace and Justice’) lost its negotiating group status, the LKP objected to the implementation of the agreement and refused to submit a list of members of the special committee. In particular, they argued the invalidity of the agreement that JP lawmaker Shim Sang-jeong was to serve as the chairman of the special committee, and even led to the extreme remarks of the floor leader Kim Seongtae, saying, ‘The Justice Party, a unit directly under the Blue House, should get out of the special committee’ (Sisa Journal, 2018). 24 If a bill is put on fast track, it will be transferred to the plenary session for a general vote without being subject to possible blocking by opposing lawmakers within a time frame of not more than 330 days during which it must be passed for review by the relevant committees (National Assembly Act, §85-2). 25 The bill maintained the original total number of 300 seats, out of which 225 seats (75 per cent) were allocated through SMD elections, while the remaining 75 seats (25 per cent) were distributed by way of PR election, that is, based on the party vote share of the second ballot. In addition, the 75 seats were negatively interlocked (yeondong) with the number of won SMD seats, however, only at 50 per cent. Moreover, the double-track candidacy was introduced for candidates of parties that received more than 5 per cent of the party vote share and did not win more than 30 per cent of the SMD seat share (Shim et al., 2019). 26 The four contested bills were proposals for enacting the Corruption Investigation Agency Act, and reforming the Prosecutor’s Office Act, Criminal Procedure Act, and the PEA. 27 President Moon Jae-in nominated Cho Kuk as a candidate for Justice Minister, but he was not confirmed by the National Assembly because the opposition refused to do so on the grounds of suspicions related to his daughter’s college admissions and other allegations. Later, President Moon nevertheless pushed ahead with the appointment of the minister; however, Cho Kuk finally resigned after only 35 days in office due to prosecutorial investigations into various allegations surrounding his family. 28 A party is eligible for being allocated PR seats, if it either received 3 per cent or more of the party vote, or won five or more seats in SMDs (PEA, §189). 29 This is an additional, temporary article of the PEA that was effective for the general elections in 2020 only, and thus will have to be replaced by an additional reform. 30 On 2 February 2020, the LKP changed its name to United Future Party (UFP; ­Miraetonghap Dang), and three days later, established the Future Korea Party (FKP; Miraehan’guk Dang) as a dummy party for the sole purpose of harvesting seats in the PR tier in the upcoming elections, and only to dissolve it shortly after the elections on 13 May of the same year. (On 2 September, the UFP changed its name once more, this time to People Power Party (PPP; Gungminuihim). The DP followed suit with forming its own satellite party, the Citizens’ Party of Korea (CPK; Deobureosimin Dang) on 8 March 2020, for the same purpose, and disbanded it on 13 May. 31 The LKP changed its name to United Future Party (UFP; Miraetonghap Dang).

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30  Hannes B. Mosler html?idxno=178016 (accessed: 12 November 2021) [시사저널 (2018). 자유한국당만 마 음먹으면 정개특위 가동된다. 시사저널, 2018년10월12일]. Song, Seog-yun (2005). The Origins of the Legislation of the Election Campaign Regulations. SNU Beophak (46:4): 28–53 [송석윤 (2005). 선거운동 규제입법의 연원. 서울대 법학 2005(46:4): 28–53]. Song, Junmo and Dohoon Lee (2021). Is Proportional Representation Proportional? The Impacts of the Introduction of the Proportional Representation System on the Making of Bills. Gyeongjewa Sahoe (130): 163–207 [송전모와 이동훈 (2021). 비례대표제는 비례 적인가: 정당명주 비례대표제 도입이 법안 발의 및 통과에 미치는 영향. 경제와 사 회 2021: 163–207]. Supreme Court (2021). Action for confirmation of invalidity of election. 2020 su 5325, 19. August, Seoul [대법원 (2021). 선거무효 확인의 소. 2020수5325, 대법원, 2021년8월19일]. Wong, Joseph (2019). Democratic Resilience in South Korea and Taiwan, in: Ursula, van Beek (ed.). Democracy Under Threat. A Crisis of Legitimacy? London: Palgrave Macmillan, 199–220. Yonhapnews (2015). Moon Jae-in, ‚total number of parliament members must be at least 400. Yonhapnews, 6 April, https://www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR20150406085800001 ­(accessed: 16 November 2021) [연합뉴스 (2015). 문재인, 국회의원 정수 부족 … 400명은 되어 야. 연합뉴스, 2015년4월6일]. Yonhapnews (2019a). Electoral law, retreat follows retreat … no changes in number of seats. Yonhapnews, 23 December, https://www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR20191223070000001 (­access: 15 December 2021) [연합뉴스 (2019a). 4+1 선거법, 후퇴에 후퇴 … 의석수 변 동 없는 연비제 도입. 연합뉴스, 2019년12월23일]. Yonhapnews (2019b). DP reviews possible ‘people’s hearing’ in light of the opposition’s hearing boycott. Yonhapnews, 22 August, https://www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR2019 0822150451001 (accessed: 14 November 2021) [연합뉴스 (2019b). 민주, 야 조국 청문 회 보이콧 기류에 국민 청문회 검토. 연합뉴스, 2019년8월14일]. Yonhapnews (2019c). Number of deputies became core issue in fast-track negotiations … ruling camp has hard time with equation of higher degree. Yonhapnews, 27 October, https://www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR20191026040051001 (accessed: 15 November 2021) [연합뉴스 (2019a). 패스트트랙 협상서 의원정수 뇌돤 부상 … 여 고차방정시 속앓 이. 연합뉴스, 2019년10월27일]. Yonhapnews (2020). LKP officially registered decoy party Future Korea Party … requirements fulfilled. Yonhapnews, 13 February, https://www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR202002 13125651001 (accessed: 20 November 2021) [연합뉴스 (2020). 한국당 비례용 위성정 당 미래한국당 정식등록 … 요건 충족. 연합뉴스, 2020년2월13일]. Yoon, Kwang-Il (2020). Change and Continuity in the 21st General Election. Korea Observer 2020(51:2): 179–204.

2

South Korea’s Democratic Experience Political Leadership and Civil Society Kyounghee Cho

Introduction In the dynamic of Asian democracy, the Republic of Korea (ROK or South ­Korea, hereinafter, Korea) can be regarded as a country that has obtained democratic achievement with the rapid development of democracy, even though it used to be one of the developing countries that suffered from poverty, insecurity, and the dictator’s repression. Political power in Korea has been highly concentrated on presidential power. In the authoritarian periods, the centralisation of political power and the rule of the individual rather than the law were the barriers to democracy in Korea (Lee, 1996; Lent, 1998: 151). However, despite the non-democratic political and societal situations during the previous authoritarian period, it can be considered that contemporary Korean people obtained relatively extended freedom and human rights through experiencing a series of events. According to Korean constitutional law article one and paragraph two, the citizens have the sovereignty of Korea, and all the powers come from them. Early Korean society tried to consolidate democracy through government changes ­ through competitive elections and by establishing the rule of law on democratic principles (Alagappa, 1995; Im, 2010; Suh, 2015). Korean society has experienced many changes and unprecedented political transformations until now. Many scholars have paid attention to Korean democratisation, and they more descriptively put forward various definitions or evaluations of it. The Korean democratisation process has been characterised as a ‘transition through social movement’ (Bae and Kim, 2013: 10) and a ‘civil revolution from below’. Korea’s democracy has become a force from the very social power, such as the democratic social movements from the public. In particular, the democratisation in Korea from the 1970s to the late 1980s within the context of social class struggles shows how a specific class power balance that emerged along the democratisation process gave a particular meaning and content to democracy (Song, 2013: 339). Many argue that the experiences of Korea have been an example of how a country can successfully transition to and consolidate democracy (Hahm, 2008). The definition of democratic consolidation can be the process that democracy becomes matured. Some observers argue that Korea’s experience went through the following steps: (1) ‘the decline or demise of DOI: 10.4324/9781003392569-2

32  Kyounghee Cho authoritarianism’; (2) ‘the transformation of democracy’; and (3) ‘the consolidation of democracy’ (Burton and Ryu, 1997; Hahm and Kim, 1999; Shin, 1999; Im, 2000; Schedler, 2001a & 2001b; Hahm and Lee, 2008). However, some scholars argue that Korea still has challenges to be solved in consolidating democracy. Im (2000) argues that Koreans have been discussing such issues as the preferred type of democracy by probing the structural, institutional, and cultural opportunities and threats that previous Korea faced. Im (2004) also explicitly criticises Korean democracy as faltering and suffering from an imperial presidency, oligarchic parties, divisive regionalism, political corruption, and the public’s low trust in politics. Furthermore, Choi (2012) indicates that ­Korean elite-dominated politics harms consolidating democracy by interfering with the political opposition’s action. The conflicts between ideal and reality have often undermined political stability in Korea (Helgesen, 2013: 15). Hahm (2008: 129) also emphasises that it is still hard to put that democracy is fully consolidated even though K ­ orea has succeeded in establishing its democracy. According to Hahm (2008: 141), while the foundation of a liberal democratic order has been consolidated, there are still areas where Korean democratisation needs to make more progress. In this vein, analysing how Korea, as one of the successful democratic Asian countries, achieved democratic achievement and why there are opposing evaluations of it could provide some lessons to other Asian countries undergoing democratisation processes. Therefore, this study figures out what historical, political, and situational features led to successful democratisation and discusses a wide range of the democratisation experiences from the authoritarian era to the present. More specifically, the Korean democratisation process will be analysed by focusing on the roles of political leadership and civil society, universally regarded as the main actors in democratisation in any country. Political Leadership and Civil Society in Democratisation Democratisation refers to the process by which a series of dynamic democratic movements of citizens reaches democracy. Democratisation is a dynamic changing process from an undemocratic state, such as authoritarianism or fascism, to another state, ­democracy (Sohn, 2003: 3). In the meantime, democratic movements refer to the actions of people to change non-democracy or anti-democracy into democracy by causing democratisation (ibid). However, not all democratic movements of people contribute to democratisation and lead to democracy. Because contrary to its intention, democratic movements may have the effect of strengthening authoritarianism rather than contributing to bringing democracy (Sohn, 2003: 4). Considering this, Sorensen (1993: 40) argues that the newly established democratic system does not always guarantee the consolidation of democracy after the collapse of the authoritarian regime. It can be said that the definition of democratic consolidation is the process that democracy becomes matured after successfully passing the democratisation period. It refers to the stabilisation and sustainable state of a democratic system after

South Korea’s Democratic Experience 33 the democratisation of a country (Woo and Woo, 2018: 191). Consolidating democracy involves not only maintaining democracy but also completing and deepening it (Schedler, 1998; Kim and Kim, 2009: 56). More specifically, Chang (2005: 46) perceptively claims that consolidation of democracy can be understood as the postdemocratisation process in which the liquidity and uncertainty of the democratic transition process are removed, and stability is secured. In this context, Linz and Stepan (1996: 30) argue that the consolidation of democracy is a continuum from low-quality democracy to high-quality democracy. In a country entering the stage of democracy consolidation, authoritarian organisations that hinder the operation of a democratic government must be controlled. By doing so, it should not be questioned about the sustainability of the democratic system (Chang, 2005: 47). In this vein, concerning the impact of political leadership on democracy, some scholars argue that after democratisation, the new democratic state led to the regression of democracy by failing to improve the problems of arbitrary leadership and corruption that were wrong practices during the authoritarian regime. Lee (2020: 114) claims that for Asian countries, the common factors that caused the weakening of democracy in the period of consolidating democracy were the corruption problem and the self-righteous behaviour of political leaders, a remnant of the past authoritarian regime. In an unstable political state during democratisation, the unilateral monopoly of political leaders and the ruling party and the corruption of the political leaders eventually led to the crisis of democracy (ibid: 119). In particular, political leaders with super-centralised power may create an autocratic situation. The power of extreme political leaders can lead to the expansion of the executive power, dismantling the rational public sphere and hindering the pluralistic and democratic development of civil society (Choi, 2020: 2). However, in this regard, Held (2006: 316) argues that democracy in a country is required that is ‘reconceived as a double-sided phenomenon: concerned on the one hand, with the reform of state power and, on the other hand, with the restructuring of civil society’. He also maintains that well-functioning democracy has to offer opportunities for the participation of citizens in all decisions concerning social and political issues, emphasising ‘democratic autonomy’, which can be a fundamental idea encompassing democratic values at the same time (ibid). Meanwhile, it can be said that in the process of consolidating democracy, the political attitude of civil society in response to political leadership can lead to ­another path of political change (Lee, 2020: 120). According to Diamond (1997: 4), as a counterbalance of absolute political power, civil society with autonomy apart from the state can be regarded as an essential element not only in helping the transition to democracy but also in consolidating democracy. It is distinct from ‘society’ in general in that it involves citizens acting collectively in a public sphere to express their interests, passions, preferences, and ideas, to exchange information, to achieve collective goals, to make demands on the state, to improve the structure and functioning of the state, and to hold state officials accountable. (ibid: 6)

34  Kyounghee Cho Considering this, it can be said that democracy can keep transforming the balance of power between political leadership and civil society. Maintaining and establishing a stable democratic system is not limited to one political subject. Still, it requires efforts through checks and balances among all actors in the political process (Lee, 2020: 121). Therefore, for a democratic system to work effectively, not only the legitimacy of political power and authority is required between political leadership and civil society, but also effective checks and a stable balance must be established (Pye, 2000: 30). Authoritarian Era in Korea Before Democratisation With a lack of sovereignty, Korea was ruled by a Japanese governor-general from 1910 to 1945. During those 36 years, the Korean political system changed in many ways, and political activities were also restricted by the Japanese dictatorship. It was politically and socially confusing in the early stage of the foundation of the state after the period of the Japanese dictatorship, and the strong power of the military regime is considered to have undermined Korean democracy by repressing the public will and freedom. In particular, the emergence of a dynamic relationship between the military dictatorship, authoritarian presidential leadership, and bureaucratic expertise influenced the shaping of a powerful authoritarian presidential system (Hahm, 2008). As seen in many other countries in the early days, military forces played a considerable and sometimes dominant role in the political evolution of Korea at an early stage. During the authoritarian years from 1963 to 1993, Park Chung-hee (1963–1979), Chun Doo-hwan (1980–1988), and Roh Tae-woo (1988–1993) dominated, as they became successive presidents in Korea. From the time they were generals and politicians, these presidents were surrounded by an interrelated elite group consisting of businesses, bureaucrats, and other politicians with regional connections and educational and friendship ties (Kwon, 2010: 6). Through a military coup in May 1961, Park Chung-hee (1963–1979) seized power and kept it for about 18 years. During the Park regime, military force in Korea played a stronger and more significant role. Despite the institutional and political crisis rooted in conflicts at that time, Park’s political strategy based on authoritarianism created advantageous conditions for the popular coalition and broadened his regime’s support (Im, 1987: 255). Although Park Chung-hee is still regarded as a leader who significantly influenced Korea’s economic growth, he is recorded as a notorious dictator in Korean history. His dictatorship eventually ended with the assassination of Kim Jae-gyu, the chief of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA), on 26 October 1979. However, until then, since there was not enough time to prepare for democratising forces to cope with the political vacuum created after his death, the end of Park’s regime did not result in a transition to democracy (Song, 2013: 342). After Park’s regime, another military elite force under General Chun Doo-hwan (1980–1988) succeeded in taking power on 12 December 1979. More specifically, by completing the Chun’s military coup thanks to the support of the United States

South Korea’s Democratic Experience 35 (US), General Chun Doo-hwan was officially elected president on 17 April 1980, which meant the extension of the military regime. In the process of Chun’s taking political power, the new military regime committed atrocities such as the massacre of civilians. While Chun’s regime successfully repressed the uprising, many people were killed or arrested during this period. It can be said that the government under Chun was founded on weak legitimacy due to its immoral ascent to state power. In particular, various political events in Korea made the early 1980s a time of severe political repression and military rule over society and the economy (Mo and Moon, 1999: 136). Furthermore, throughout the late 1970s and until the declaration of democracy in 1987, the ordinary people’s social and democratic movements could not produce any political expression, as no party could challenge power at a national level. In the society before democratisation until the late 1980s, the military government had forcibly blocked political information so that the people could not pay attention to politics. Under the oppressive social environment, the people could not voice freely and exercise a right to express their requirements to the government. Also, the government did not tend to care about the people’s voice; instead, it focused on maintaining its authoritarian political power. The Chun’s ruthless governing regime resulted in anti-government movements spreading to various social groups, from opposition parties, labour unionists, students, members of the middle class, and intellectuals to religious associations. Different classes, from the elite to ordinary people, participated in these anti-government demonstrations. These diverse social and political groups gathered to form anti-government forces with momentum towards June 1987, the so-called ‘June Resistance’. With 500,000 people joining 514 different anti-government gatherings, demonstrations took place across the nation on 10 June, and the number of people who joined the demonstration reached 1,800,000 on 26 June (Song, 2013: 343). ‘Since June 1987, Korea has made giant strides in embracing democracy as a political reality rather than as empty rhetoric’ (Youm, 1998). When the decisive pro-democracy movement happened, and autocracy was officially terminated, there was continuous will from the public for democracy. In this regard, a nationwide survey in 1988 showed that around 70 per cent of respondents named the political situation at that time ‘the gestation period of democracy’ (Kwon and Han, 1989: 5–6). This survey data show that democracy was in high demand for ordinary people at that time. The military regime collapsed in 1987, and the transition to democracy began in earnest. During this period, while the power of the state, which had overwhelming superiority, was significantly reduced (Huh and Chang, 2009: 38), the autonomy of civil society greatly increased (Chang, 2005: 50). Korea showed positive changes in the institutionalisation and operation of democracy and became a representative example of the transition to democracy after democratisation and the establishment of the Sixth Republic in 1987 (Chang, 2005: 44). In this vein, Korea has often

36  Kyounghee Cho been touted as a showcase of successful change from development dictatorship to civilian democracy (Youm, 1998). The pro-democracy movement in mid-1987 resulted in a series of concrete democratic reforms in Korea closer to pursuing political openness (Youm, 1998: 188). Despite the immaturity of the Korean democracy at that time, the direct election of the president and other electoral reforms at the national level are regarded as undeniable accomplishments (Mo and Moon, 1999: 173). In this regard, it is considered that Korea has made significant progress in procedural democracy. The Emergence of Civil Society as a Counterpart of Political Leadership Political power in Korea has been highly concentrated on presidential leadership. Korea, to varying degrees, had a robust national tradition in terms of presidential leadership for more than 30 years until transitioning to democracy in 1987 (Chang, 2005: 50). However, since the democratic turning point in the late 1980s, Korea has shown political and democratic up and down by regime changes. Nevertheless, during the period of democratic transition, there was another critical political issue for Koreans in terms of connections between the previous regimes, which had been a target of the uprising and the next one. At that time, Chun’s regime opposed a direct presidential election and wanted to keep the existing indirect one for its favour. The pro-democracy movement in 1987 continued until Roh Tae-woo (1988– 1993), who led the soft-liners among ruling military elites as a presidential candidate of the ruling party, declared the adoption of a direct presidential election on 29 June 1987 (Song, 2013: 342–343). Although the presidential election was held with a direct constitutional amendment, Roh Tae-woo was elected due to the split between the opposition candidates, Kim Dae-jung and Kim Young-sam, who did not reach an agreement on a single candidate. Confronting the national crisis, Roh’s regime had an administration goal to control democratisation as a priority (Bedeski, 1994: 5) and to continue to push for economic growth. However, although Roh declared the conclusion of the Fifth Republic issues to the public, many observers criticised his governing regime. According to the critics, while Roh’s regime initiated political reforms to break Korea’s ‘cycle of authoritarian rule’ (Youm and Salwen, 1990: 312), in reality, the national situation under the Roh regime was not too different from that of the previous authoritarian regime. Since the constitutional amendment in 1988, it is regarded that democratic consolidation in Korean society has been stagnant due to the rigid political system, conflicting authoritarian culture, and corrupt political leadership. Due to these undemocratic political and societal features of Korea, the diverse opinions of ordinary people in Korean society were still difficult to be reflected in political decisions. In this context, it can be said that arbitrary political leadership due to corruption and abuse of power in the early stage of consolidating democracy in Korea instead

South Korea’s Democratic Experience 37 increased the desire for political participation from civil society and led to the growth of civil society in the political realm. Korean civil society emerged in pro-democracy and anti-dictatorial movements from the 1970s to the 1980s. It began to expand quickly in a more institutionalised and organised form after the democratic transition in the June resistance in 1987 (Ryoo, 2009: 34). Since 1987, the effectiveness of civil society in Korea has become widespread and more robust as democratisation has progressed (ibid). The coordinated efforts of the public provided the major impetus for the nation’s democratic transformation (Lim and Tang, 2002: 565). In addition, many different social groups participated in the movement to restore democracy and ensure human rights. In this regard, Lew (1999: 165–167) maintains that Korea has become more democratic from the early 1980s to the 1990s. Indeed, the democratisation movement of civil society showed rapid growth, and the number of civic organisations increased quickly from 1987 (Shin, Kim and Kim, 2005). Considering this, Choi (2010: 6) argues that civil society was considered ‘a bulwark of the powerful pro-democracy movement’ when the transition from authoritarian governing to democracy occurred in the 1980s. The Growth of Korean Civil Society in the 1990s Before the election in 1992, Korea’s successive authoritarian regimes had justified the repression of human rights and political rights for a few decades. In this vein, the presidential election in 1992 has a significant meaning in Korean political democracy in that the first civilian government emerged. However, it was doubted if the civilian government under Kim Young-sam (1993–1998) was from genuinely civilian power because it was founded in a new party merged by two conservative party leaders and one defected from the progressive party in 1990. When it comes to Korean society in the 1990s, Chang (2005: 53) argues that as the desire for distribution increased after the democratisation period, conflicts between ideologies, classes, regions, and generations spread, and social cohesion was weakened. In addition, it is also regarded that in the unstable and conflicting political situation, the political demands of ordinary people in Korea increased due to continuous economic and social development and differentiation. However, the political leadership could not commit to their original functions due to constant strife, incompetence, and corruption rather than representing the interests and demands of the people (Woo and Woo, 2018: 204). Political leadership after democratisation often led to a political crisis by expressing arbitrary government behaviours and, in the end, led to a failure in state management (Lee, 2020: 103). According to Lee, the harmful practices of political leaders in the past were a significant factor in weakening the political leadership of political leaders and elites, and causing social unrest and political crises (ibid). In this vein, he points out that the critical problem in political leadership was that even the political leaders who led the democratisation

38  Kyounghee Cho exercised imperial political leadership without throwing away the remnants of the past authoritarian regime and cultural heritage (ibid: 108). Before the regime change in 1998, elite political forces formed the upper echelons of power and another elite insurgent who continuously raised criticism against them in Korean society. One of the common points of the Kim Young-sam and Kim Dae-jung administrations that emerged after democratisation is that the gap between expectations for reform and realistic results had not been solved. Although Kim Young-sam and Kim Dae-jung led the democratisation movement in the 1970s–1980s, they were also criticised for their dogmatic rule. Regarding this, Kim (1999) claims that while each of the newly elected presidents in Korea since the 1990s has promoted various policies to eradicate corruption from the beginning of their administration, ironically, corruption scandals caused by the president’s close aides and relatives acted as critical factors to overshadow their efforts. Against this backdrop, in this period, many different social groups participated in diverse social movements to restore democracy and ensure human rights. ­Korea’s democratisation movements in the 1980s centred on the educated urban middle class led to social activities in the 1990s. In particular, major civic organisations expanded their social influence by accusing political corruption and organising critical public opinion. It can be said that the social movements of civil society have been recognised for their legitimacy in terms of their political neutrality and non-partisan nature since democratisation. In this process, civil society gained the widespread trust of citizens and earned a public base to check political power. It can be said that civil society received support from ordinary people by playing a role in mediating between the state and citizens instead of a political party (Woo and Woo, 2018: 198–199). However, turning to the late 1990s, the Korean citizens’ movements entered the stage of restructuring their societal role while passing the rapid expansion found in its early stage. In 1997, Korea faced the IMF financial crisis, which caused a surge in unemployment in Korean society and a decrease in real income. The continued social and economic instability aggravated potential social conflicts and dissatisfaction. Due to the national financial crisis, the middle class, who had emerged as a prominent actor in Korean civil society, began disintegrating, and support for social movements decreased (Cha, 1998). In this situation, the government or the media on the national economic crisis had made the public perceive that critical attitude should be refrained from in a national emergency (Choi, 1998: 16). Moreover, Korean civil society and citizens’ social movements have been significantly affected by the globalisation of capitalist accretion and neoliberal policies (Kim, 2006: 101). As individualism spread rapidly in Korean society due to the national economic crisis, critical and collective social movements gradually lost their support base by losing their social influence (Woo and Woo, 2018: 203). Given this national situation, it was difficult for civil society to organise resistance, and thus, civic movements were rapidly eroded by neoliberal market logic (ibid). However, the overall stagnation of social movements in the late 1990s instead served as an opportunity to seek new political alternatives (Woo and Woo, 2018:

South Korea’s Democratic Experience 39 204). According to Kim (2006: 101), the change in Korean society based on the limitations and evaluation of past social movements was regarded as a process of recognising the importance of party politics. In particular, some scholars argue that the delay in developing party politics that has been continuously raised since 1987, laying the foundation for giving civil society organisations a ‘quasi-party’ characteristic (Shin, Kim and Kim, 2005: 208). The Evolution of Korean Civil Society in the 2000s There have been diverse perspectives and interpretations regarding the regime changes in Korean politics. Minns (2001: 1035–1036) argues that Kim Young-sam (1993–1998) and Kim Dae-jung (1998–2003), who were the opposition power at that time, took advantage of the domestic political situation as a means of political objection to erode the legitimacy of the previous regime. Haggard and You (2015: 167) maintain that Korea has long passed the standard democratic benchmarks with the transition process in 1987 and the transfer of power to opposition parties, dated either to the election of Kim Dae-jung in 1997 or the election of Lee Myungbak (2008–2013) in 2012. Sorensen (1993: 45) argues that the fact that elected political power can be transferred to the opposition party after the collapse of a country’s authoritarian system means that a new democratic system is entering the stage of consolidation (Chang, 2005: 47). Furthermore, according to Huntington (1991: 266–267), for the consolidation of democracy, ‘peaceful regime changes’ at the institutional level are an essential factor in consolidating democracy, even if it is not a sufficient ­condition for the consolidation of democracy. According to these scholars’ arguments, the continuous regime changes through elections since the emergence of the democratic government in 1993 may prove that Korea is in the stage of consolidating democracy. In the stage of democratic consolidation, although Roh Moo-hyun (2003–2008) sparked controversy about his lack of political leadership (Yang, 2005: 5), he considerably emphasised participatory democracy, focusing on public relations and connection to civil society. In particular, Roh was not seeking a small government, unlike Kim Dae-jung’s regime, but one that provided the public-needed services (Hahm and Lee, 2008: 197) under the slogan ‘Participatory Government’. His regime encouraged the participation of non-governmental sectors and tried to readjust relations between the government and civil society (Lee and Yun, 2011: 298). It also made efforts to increase social cohesion and the voluntary cooperation of the public (Park and Wilding, 2016: 1071). Turning to the 2000s, the social movements of civil society proceeded in the form of more ‘active’ political participation. In particular, civil society organisations made up of labours actively participated in politics as a new strategy and alternative to the social movements. While presenting the political system reform as an essential task, the labour groups demanded it makes it easier for the groups that stand for workers to advance into politics. The organisational movements of the civil society, such as anti-candidate campaigns (낙선, 낙천운동, nakseon,

40  Kyounghee Cho nakcheonundong),1 contributed to strengthening the ‘democratic responsibility’ of the representative political organisation (Woo and Woo, 2018: 206). In addition to this, the Citizens’ Solidarity for the General Election (총선 시민연대, chongseonsiminyeondae)2 in 2000 announced 86 people who were not eligible after comprehensively judging corruption, election law violations, antidemocracy, anti-human rights history, lack of legitimacy. As a result, among the candidates on its list, 57 people were defeated in the elections (Woo and Woo, 2018: 207). While there were limitations in that they did not significantly impact fundamental political reform, these civil society movements were evaluated as new political and cultural movements from the institutional and political circles in response to the unique political needs of civil society. In a situation where democracy was institutionally established, the social movement strategies of civil society needed to develop persuasive communication skills (Cho and Hong, 2004: 113). While the previous civil society played a crucial role in organising and publicising social movements, in the 2000s, they played a central role in producing policy alternatives. According to Ahn (2007: 135–136), various research institutes or civic organisations suggested local policy alternatives and provided them to political parties and candidates. By offering policy cooperation and policy alternatives, it can be said that the alternative characteristics of civil society to political parties were strengthened. Moreover, civil society activities during the new progressive regime under Roh were widely involved as sub-partners of government public action at the central and local government levels (Choi, 2020: 10). In particular, the government distributed a hefty budget to civic movements or similar public institutions composed of civic activists under the mottos of civic participatory democracy and participatory civic governance. In this vein, it can be regarded that state power and civil society have led to a reciprocal interdependent relationship, establishing ‘clientelism’ between progressive political leadership and civil ­ ­society (ibid). Regarding this, during this period, some argue that Korean civil society played an essential role in reflecting citizens’ diverse political interests and demands on real politics. The social movements of Korean civil society evolved from a negative form of forming critical public opinion through rallies and demonstrations to a positive state of political participation and institutional reform, contributing to the consolidation of democracy (Woo and Woo, 2018: 190). The Enhanced Civic Power Since the Late 2000s Since the mid-2000s, while the ‘quasi-party’ characteristic of civil society has strengthened, civil society’s role as a check on the president’s power considerably weakened during this period (Choi, 2010: 13). According to Choi, the exercise of control by social forces and social groups over presidential and state power could not effectively function (ibid). While the political reform movement of civic society organisations strengthened the responsibility of the government and the National Assembly in Korea, at the same time, the public support base as a social

South Korea’s Democratic Experience 41 movement decreased. During this period, it is regarded that Korean civil society has not had as much support from citizens as before. The social movement forces, which gradually lost their leading role after the candlelight at the 2002 rallies, seemed to have been completely marginalised. The mass social movements promoted by civil society could no longer play a central role in Korean politics. Considering this, Kim (2013: 59) points out that the factor in the loss of social trust in the civic movement is that civil society failed to make citizens the actual actors of the social activities. In addition, he also maintains that some civil organisations lost their autonomy by breaking down the boundary between the state and themselves by excessively being politicised (ibid). In the meantime, since the late 2000s, the conservative administrations tended not to communicate with the public, even though to satisfy the political needs that have erupted from various political forces after democratisation, broader dialogue and compromised political leadership must be exerted (Lee, 2020: 115). Park Geunhye (2013–2016) only took part in official press conferences on five occasions during her 4-year incumbent, which was remarkably low compared to previous presidents. Lee Myung-bak held press conferences 20 times, and Roh Moo-hyun and Kim Dae-jung 150 times. Some observers argue that Park’s unwillingness to communicate with her people and cabinet members and her authoritarian style led to the national crisis (The Seoul Times, 2017). In particular, the Lee Myung-bak (2008–2013) government strengthened its political power and stressed anti-communist rhetoric since it took office. The government’s various laws restricted ordinary people’s collective activities in Korea. Considering the government’s reactions to civic movements concerning the social issue, the Lee administration seemed to assume that public opinions needed to be controlled. However, controlling political expressions and the people’s actions for national stability could be regarded as the government compromising the essential commodity of democracy. Sohn and Kang (2013) argue that the conservative governments’ initiatives on civic engagement have considerably stepped back. In this regard, Lee and Yun (2011: 314) claim that Korean society has suffered from fragmented and blocked communication from conservative administrations. Moreover, the Korean conservative governments have tended not to properly cope with various incidents resulting from the public’s extended collective civic actions. The Korean conservative authorities attempted to repress public opinions even though political representatives are responsible for listening to the public voices and reflecting them in political decision-making. The infringement of the conservative governments on freedom of expression from citizens undermined democracy seriously. While the expanded civic power met strong resistance due to the government regulations, the coercive response of the government rather led to another big candlelight vigil as anti-Lee’s government forces. The 2008 Mad Cow Disease Candlelight Demonstrations clearly showed the different aspects of a post-­modern mass movement from the previous social movements. Regarding this, Huh and Chang (2009: 51) evaluated that active political use of the informatisation mechanism, the emergence of new activists symbolised by youth and women, and the

42  Kyounghee Cho nationwide resistance to the people’s livelihood agenda were phenomena not found in the conventional mass movements. In this vein, Woo and Woo (2018: 220) claim that with the spread of social movements starting with the candlelight vigil in 2008, citizens’ autonomy capabilities and democratic attitudes in daily life were strengthened. Notably, the social activities of citizens during this period showed the reinforced tendency of unorganised citizens to participate in collective actions voluntarily. Since then, ordinary people in Korean society have shown the tendency to become direct political actors by putting forward living agendas such as housing, education, and food safety. It can be said that this change in the culture of Korean citizens’ political participation has significantly contributed to the formation of a political and social background where ordinary people can learn democratic norms and democratic justice and attitudes in their daily life. Also, the citizens’ societal experiences were an opportunity to shift their focus towards ‘grassroots selfgoverning movements’ and the social economy paradigm (Woo and Woo, 2018: 210–211). Whereas the past social movements focused on mobilising and politically organising citizens through criticism and discourse of resistance, ordinary Korean people tend to have been recognising ‘politics’ as a daily process of constructing and realising their lives in recent days (Woo and Woo, 2018: 215). Due to the overall development of Korean society, Koreans have secured equal access to public information and service, and obtained more opportunities to participate in political affairs. Given the progress of society, people could begin to shape public opinions by freely expressing their knowledge and personal opinions about various social issues such as politics, economics, and security. In particular, the impeachment of President Park Geun-hye in 2016 was an unprecedented political incident that clearly showed how presidential power could be misused under the condition that the separation of powers between the legislative, judicial, and executive was not properly working. In this political crisis, the candlelight vigil is regarded as another democratic revolution in that it is a symbolic democratic incident in that citizens directly judged political power, which could not have been controlled by democratic procedures and institutions (Woo and Woo, 2018: 211–216). Regarding this, Huh and Chang (2009: 47) maintain that as political consciousness and desire for political participation of the ordinary people increased, the response to the failure of institutional politics was expressed as mass movements. Korean society showed some degree of social consensus on political and social issues among the people by sharing ideas that could freely be reached. The consensus opinions of ordinary people regarding a certain social and political issue directly affected large-scale political collective actions independently. The will of individuals in Korean society played a crucial role in shaping collective civic power, considerably affecting the political evolution that led to the president’s impeachment. In this vein, it can be said that the ordinary people in Korean society have enhanced their citizenship by expressing their own voices to the government and organising collective political actions.

South Korea’s Democratic Experience 43 Civic Power to Check Political Leadership In a representative democracy, political power is legally delegated to the political elite. For this reason, the political authority of a president elected through democratic elections in a presidential system could be a double-edged sword. The separation of powers between the legislative, judicial, and executive branches is a mechanism for limiting the arbitrary abuse of power. Still, it is only partially guaranteed through revision and supplementation at the institutional level. Therefore, without counter-check forces, Korea’s presidential system centred on a strong president could easily pose the risk of tyranny. It is likely to lead to corruption in political leadership and expected eventually leading to democratic regression. Considering the Korean case, the arbitrary political leadership based on ‘­order and control’ that used to be common during the past authoritarian regimes continued to the current civilian regimes, which negatively influenced democratic development. Even after the political leadership was transferred to the civilian government, the elected political leaders were not free from criticisms regarding the undemocratic ruling or corrupted politics, failing to throw away the remnants of the leadership of the authoritarian era. In particular, arbitrary political leadership, such as corruption and power abuse by political leaders, triggered the political and societal crises in recent Korea. Political corruption has chronically been mattered in Korean politics, and it cannot be independently regarded as a political leader’s morality issue. Even in the contemporary democratic society, political leaders are often related to corruption issues closely. Lee Myung-bak, who was tried over the ‘BBK stock price manipulation incident’,3 and President Park Geun-hye, whom the National Assembly impeached due to the so-called ‘Choi Soon-sil Gate’4 are not free at all from criticism of corruption (Lee, 2020: 115–116). Although Moon Jae-in (2017–2022) government solidified its political position with the motto ‘liquidation of the accumulated evil’, which aimed at the immorality of the conservative regimes, it was revealed that undemocratic political routines, such as the opinion rigging scandal in 2018, were repeated during the presidential election. In this sense, the current progressive administration cannot seem free from criticism of political corruption issues. These political and social issues, such as the government’s attempts to regulate civil society and manipulate public opinion, severely compromised democracy in Korean society. Korea still faces many problems concerning the authoritarian communication method of the government, the lack of policy transparency, and political corruption. Furthermore, the Korean political leadership has continuously violated the democratic rights of the people through excessive regulation and illegal actions in various ways. While the public has enhanced their political power by expressing their voices in diverse ways, at the same time, Korean governments have shown a more robust regulatory attitude against the publics’ criticism. In this situation, the social movements of Korean civil society have played a significant role in political and social crisis moments, leading to a new transformation of the democratic order. Although the transition to a democratic society is often explained as conflicts and rifts in political power, given that the ruling regime does

44  Kyounghee Cho not voluntarily lead a democratic change or give up its power, the social movement of citizens can be analysed as a more critical variable (Woo and Woo, 2018: 191). Korean civil society has consistently played a check-in role against the dominant political power in consolidating democracy, regardless of authoritarian regimes or democratic regimes, conservative regimes or progressive regimes. In particular, given that monitoring and checking the functioning of the representative political system is the minimum standard for consolidating democracy, the candlelight protests in Korean society in 2017 can also be evaluated as civic efforts to consolidate democracy. Korean civil society has acted as one of the essential actors leading to a democratic system with political leadership in the Korean democratisation context (Lee, 2020: 120). Furthermore, it has been a countermeasure against the outdated and dysfunctional political system (Lee, 2006: 267) by exerting political and social influences by transforming according to operation regime changes and democratisation. Thus, it can be said that various political movements of citizens to reflect the democratic autonomy and norms formed and agreed upon in daily life in politics have accelerated the process of consolidating democracy in Korea. Conclusion Since the authoritarian age for about 40 years, Korean democracy has continuously transformed since the democratisation movement in 1987 in both societal and political aspects. Korea has achieved procedural democratisation, a significant democratic achievement, passing the period of democratisation, and until the present, since then, it has been steadily experiencing the transfer of political power through democratic election procedures. Considering the peaceful change of government through elections processing in Korean society, it seems clear that Korea has successfully passed the period of democratisation and is now consolidating democracy. However, during the last decades after the democratic turning point in the late 1980s, it can be said that Korea has experienced considerable democratic accomplishments and some democratic retreats at the same time. After experiencing the successful democratic transition, Korea’s solid political leadership has often been related to undemocratic issues due to its incompetency, corruption, and overuse of political power. Nonetheless, ironically, the lack of democratic political leadership due to incompetence and corruption and failure to operate the political system has led to the growth of civil society that could be a counterbalanced force against political power in consolidating democracy in Korea. It can be said that the ordinary people in Korean society have enhanced their citizenship by expressing their voices to the government and organising collective political actions. Despite undemocratic sanctions at the government level, Koreans actively participated in collective political activities. Korean society has achieved outstanding performance in expanding public participation, which enhanced citizens’ power in Korean politics. As a collective civic power against dominant political leadership, civil society is critical in consolidating

South Korea’s Democratic Experience 45 democracy. The Korean case showed that democracy could always be in crisis again if the role of citizens becomes weak and their power in society is helpless. It can be said that Korean democracy has been rearranged at a deeper level through various civic activities in the balance of power with the government. The nature of political leadership continuously tries to maintain strong leadership even after democratisation. Many Asian countries are still in different stages of democratisation, and the citizens exert their civic power through various political actions such as democratic movements and elections. However, the countries pursuing democracy cannot help facing a solid dictatorship in the process of democratisation. Many countries are still struggling with the dictatorship left, and some are seeking a better democratic state. To these countries, the experiences of Korean society implicate that establishing a political system that can check the dictatorship and the continuous growth of civil society are critical elements for a better state of democracy. Notes 1 It refers to the campaign against the nomination and defeat of inappropriate candidates by civil society groups in public elections. 2 In January 2000, the Citizens’ Solidarity for the General Election, made up of 412 organisations across the country, was launched and declared that it would oppose the nomination of inappropriate candidates for the 16th National Assembly election on 13th of April. Through this campaign, the list of 86 people was announced, including 64 inappropriately nominated candidates and 22 candidates who were involved in anti-human rights, tax fraud, and low-quality speech. 3 Lee Myung-bak was alleged to have been involved in an illegal company named BBK, which brought controversy to Korea during the election season. BBK co-founders were investigated for large-scale embezzlement and stock price-fixing schemes. They had initially stated that Lee was not involved with the company, and Lee himself denied being associated with BBK. However, in 2018, Lee was arrested due to his involvement in BBK. 4 South Korea’s parliament has voted to impeach the president, Park Geun-hye, over a scandal involving her relationship with Choi Soon-sil, a close friend of 40 years investigated on suspicion of exerting undue influence on the leader.

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3

What Role to Play? Assessing the Republic of Korea’s Future Nuclear Diplomacy Virginie Grzelczyk

Introduction In 1970, Holsti published a now seminal article characteristics and roles that could help to better understand states and their place within the international system (1970). Breaking with the more classic and realist types of analyses that often concentrated on power as part of blocs or rivalries, Holsti’s work drew heavily on social psychology, and he developed a taxonomy of 17 different national roles. He suggested that incompatibilities between roles could at times explain some of the instability that was often witnessed in the international system, and especially when he was writing, on the backdrop of World War II and in the midst of the Cold War (Backman, 1970). Holsti’s taxonomy has provided important directions in the field of foreign policy analysis, and the extensive array of countries he included in his original analysis has allowed for baseline comparison of his initial model to more modern and complex depictions of role conception. Of particular interest is therefore what can be learnt from how specific countries embody a specific role or how specific countries can also at times have role dissonance. How a specific country’s role evolves over time can be particularly salient to explain older and newer security dynamics, and especially seemingly intractable ones. Back in the 1960s, the Republic of Korea (ROK or South Korea) was still deeply embedded in the United States (US) Hub and Spokes approach, slowly ebbing ahead of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK or North Korea) to gain economic momentum on the Korean peninsula but still deeply set as a protectee under the US’ conventional and nuclear umbrellas. Today, the ROK has established itself as a leading world economy whilst the DPRK has developed and tested nuclear weapons multiple times, and though Seoul is still very dependent on American forces in the region for its own defence, it is an active player in its own security and a more equal partner in the delivery of stability on the Korean peninsula. A framework based on some of Holsti’s role conceptions is therefore of interest when considering the security dynamics of the Korean peninsula, and especially the instabilities that have been generated over the past two decades by the DPRK’s development of nuclear weapons and how the ROK has handled the North Korean nuclear rise taking place just a few hundred miles from its own borders. Thus, this paper focuses on adapting Holsti’s role conceptions to consider the DOI: 10.4324/9781003392569-3

50  Virginie Grzelczyk ROK’s understanding and evolution of its foreign policy when it comes to nuclear weapons, especially given the DPRK’s own nuclear development. The paper thus seeks to understand if there is a clear South Korean nuclear security policy, and how it articulates considering its domestic interests, its partnership with the US, and the imbalance stemming from North Korea’s own nuclear development. First, the paper considers the ROK’s broad role within the system. Second, the paper looks at South Korean affairs in three specific areas: (1) North Korea’s nuclear development a month before and after the six nuclear tests conducted by the DPRK (in 2006, 2009, 2013, 2016, and 2017); (2) South Korea’s domestic politics, 6 months before the three South Korean presidential elections that took place after North Korea’s initial nuclear test (December 2007, December 2012, May 2017); and (3) the Six-Party Talks process 2 weeks before and after the six rounds of talks that took place (July 2003, February and June 2004, July, September and November 2005, December 2006, February, March and July 2007). Lastly, the paper concentrates on the ROK’s security relationships, especially in the nuclear sphere and considers the question of role conception and role prescription. Teasing Out the Question of Republic of Korea’s Role Conceptions Today, the ROK is often seen as a successful economy and nation, one that has managed to overcome economic crises, political changes, as well as managing to flourish in an unstable security environment. In essence, Seoul balances a strong alliance with the US with its own development and has, as a middle power, developed a meaningful set of diplomatic relationships and multilateral commitments (Lee, 2012). The US’ role in the ROK’s security was formalised post-Korean War with the signature on 1 October 1953 of a Mutual Defence Treaty. What this meant was that American forces would combine with South Korean ones to ensure stability and security. It also meant that the US’ nuclear umbrella was extended to South Korea, and that Seoul did not need to invest heavily in its military to ensure its own security. Under Rhee Syngman (1948–1960), South Korea had suffered during the Korean War, and adopted the Hallstein Doctrine: Seoul would not develop relationships with any country that would recognise North Korea as well. Under Park Chung-hee (1962–1979), South Korea concentrated on its economic development via modernising its infrastructures and industrialisation and created the foundation of a solid economy that has perdured beyond the end of the Cold War. Yet, the relationship was heavily asymmetric: ‘South Korea was perceived as a client state of a stronger state (US) to deter its adversaries’ (Hermanns, 2013: 64). The flipside of being the client in that specific relationship was that Seoul’s own future was highly dependent on the US’ own security environment, vision, and decisions. So, when Richard Nixon announced in 1969 that the US would require its Asian allies to bear more of the brunt of their own security as Washington was also considering a partial troop withdrawal from the peninsula in 1971, South Korean awareness of their own security conundrum started to crystalise. It is then that a number of South Korean politicians started to argue for Seoul to develop its own nuclear deterrent (Dalton and Francis, 2015).

What Role to Play?  51 Interestingly, the DPRK featured in Holsti’s initial analysis, which was based on data that had been collected between January 1965 and December 1967 and which formed the basis for him to develop the following roles: Bastion of Revolution-Liberator, Regional Leader, Regional Protector, Active Independent, Liberation Supporter, Anti-Imperialist Agent, Defender of the Faith, Mediator-Integrator, Regional-Subsystem Collaborator, Developer, Bridge, Faithful Ally, Independent, Example, Internal Development, Isolate and Protectee (Holsti, 1970: 260–270). Surprisingly, however, is the ROK’s treatment in Holsti’s study: Seoul is indeed lumped with 39 other countries that are, according to Holsti, neither major powers nor major regional powers. About those countries, Holsti suggests the following: Lack of themes for these states indicates that general foreign policy statements are either rate or are couched in such nebulous terms as to be meaningless as indicators of diplomatic attitudes and actions.… If themes for the states… were available, the national role conceptions would probably be p­ rimarily of the independent, internal development, isolate, and protectee types. (Holsti, 1970: 294) It is at that very moment that Holsti’s study captures the ROK’s lack of clear voice and policy, and tags Seoul in a group of countries most likely endorsing ­Independent, Internal Development, Isolate, and Protectee type of roles. Of the four monikers, the latter appears most appropriate to delineate the ROK’s conception and the role prescribed by the 1953 mutual defence arrangement. Holsti’s analysis, on the other hand, does involve the DPRK and outlines three specific national role conceptions: Bastion of Revolution-Liberator, Liberator Supporter, and Anti-Imperialist Agent. This latter role is the one that receives the heaviest weighting in the analysis, and the one that also delineates many of Pyongyang’s policies, especially the ones that call for balancing against the US, a country often described as the leader of the imperialist world. Almost three decades after Holsti’s work, two studies utilise a similar methodology to delineate both the ROK and the DPRK’s national role conceptions. Hermanns’ 2013 study looks at the Lee Myung-bak administration between 2008 and 2013, and more specifically at the ‘Global Korea’ branding. It suggests that Seoul has undergone profound changes in the past two decades, essentially since democratising in the 1980s, and that its focus has been largely on developing its economic power, being relevant culturally as a nation, and being a responsible global player (2013). Up until 2006, when the DPRK tested its first nuclear weapons, South Korea’s focus has been on its internal and then global development whilst attempting to promote peace. Under Chun ­Doo-hwan (1980–1988), efforts were made to rebuild a relationship with the US after the tensions that had marred the Jimmy Carter–Park Chung-hee dyad. ­Democratisation was also high on the agenda, and so was South Korea’s recognition within the international community. Under Roh Tae-woo (1988–1993), Seoul developed a Northern Policy that aimed to foster a relationship with seemingly natural allies of the DPRK such as the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China (PRC or China). South Korea also held high-level talks with the DPRK,

52  Virginie Grzelczyk ministerial meetings in 1990s, accords for reconciliation, and agreements on nonaggression, exchange, and cooperation in 1992, with both Koreas joining the United Nations (UN) the year before. Under Kim Young-sam (1993–1998), Kim Dae-jung (1998–2003), and Roh Moo-hyun (2003–2008), engagement with the DPRK continued through the Agreed Framework aimed at managing North Korea’s potential nuclear development. Further expansions into multilateral processes such as the Four-Party Talks on ending the Korean conflict and the Six-Party Talks on looking at the denuclearisation of the Korean peninsula also showed that South Korea was more expansive in its role in alliance with the US. The Lee Myung-bak administration (2008–2013) showed a harder line towards North Korea following its first nuclear test, and the promotion of a more strategic role to the US–ROK alliance, whilst promoting a new Korea Global Strategy branding that Hermanns highlighted. What is missing from Hermanns’ data is a clear development of a role that encompassed a security vision, one that ought to have started to develop given the DPRK’s own role conception and nuclear foreign policy at the same time. These roles are highlighted in Caisova’s (2018) study that looked more specifically at the 2011–2015 period of Kim Jong Un’s initial hold on power with Internal Development and Independent and Active Independent roles being the most prevalent. Broadening the analysis, Grzelczyk (2022) suggests that the DPRK belongs to an ‘awkward power’ category because of dichotomous roles that clash at times, putting a specific emphasis on Pyongyang’s quest for nuclear independence in an interdependent world. The rise of North Korea’s nuclear policy and testing was central to Park Geun-hye’s administration (2013–2017) with a support for United Nations Security Council Resolution 2094 sanction in 2013, before developing the notion of Trust Politics. Under Moon Jae-in (2017–2022), Seoul re-engaged diplomatically and offered elite meetings to the DPRK. Despite decades of careful balance between carrots and sticks, the ROK now must contend with a de-facto North Korean nuclear power. Calls for revisiting Seoul’s role and its engagement with nuclear energy, both for civilian and for defensive purposes have risen again within the run-up to the 2022 South Korean presidential elections. Given its pursuit of a stable and reasonable role within the international system, could Seoul’s role conception allow for a change to include a vision of a state that no longer relies on the US’ nuclear umbrella? There surely are clear motivations for shifting stances in developing South Korean nuclear weapons. In the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists, Einhorn and Kim highlight four of these: (1) seeking more credible deterrence; (2) correcting asymmetry; (3) pressuring Beijing and Washington; and (4) playing to domestic constituents.1 The first and second motivations are clearly related to the DPRK’s increased in nuclear capabilities and technology, as well as a sizable regimen of missile tests to develop a reliable arsenal for delivery options. Yet, both also stem from a perception that the US’ commitment to the K ­ orean peninsula and especially towards South Korea as an ally might not be as ­reliable as it should be, push comes to shove. Whether or not to get n­ uclear weapons has been a long-standing, soul-searching process for Seoul, and one that has stated long before the DPRK even achieved a credible nuclear deterrent.

What Role to Play?  53 This can be seen when the Park Chung-hee regime sought to acquire nuclear technology from France in the late 1970s, or when South Korea conducted its own plutonium separation experiments (Ahn and Cho, 2014). For all purposes, the ROK has maintained a military superiority over the DPRK in many respects and has also bested its brother-in-arms when it comes to other indicators such as economic growth, science, and technology in general. Only in the field of non-conventional weapons has Seoul had to take a backseat (Kwon, 2018). The notion of asymmetry is, therefore, real when one considers pure nuclear weapons capabilities, and it feeds into Einhorn and Kim’s third and fourth motivations: Seoul’s frustration regarding the perceived lack of clout of both Washington and the PRC in dealing with the rise of North Korea’s nuclear power since the first North Korea nuclear crisis in the early 1990s is often palpable in South Korean politics. It emerges at times in the media, and especially when the DPRK ramps up its testing efforts, such as throughout 2017, a year that saw more than 25 North K ­ orean tests alone.2 This manifests through sporadic resurgence of discussion around South Korean nuclear armaments both within the broad scope of the Korean media (Lim, 2019), but also across part of the South Korean political landscape, especially amongst moderate progressives and particularly amongst South Korean conservatives (Kim, 2020). This stance is coming at odds with the image that South Korea projects, and the role that it is trying to espouse in the international arena when it comes to being a reasonable and reliable middle power that: Seoul is publicly promoting nuclear non-proliferation and has done so when it hosted the 2012 Global Nuclear Security Summit, for example (Ahn and Cho, 2014). The South Korean stance is also further complicated by the type of nuclear engagement being advocated: politicians and commentators both talk about nuclear sovereignty as well as peaceful nuclear sovereignty (Dalton and Francis, 2015). This is particularly problematic if Seoul wants to pursue efforts to get the DPRK to denuclearise via the resumption of a Six-Party Talks-like process. Thus, it is important to consider the nuances in how the ROK conceives of its roles within the nuclear sphere, and where it feels it has a need to step up. Is the ROK potentially moving from peaceful nuclear energy to active developer of warfare? Evidence might be found looking at data over time, and cross-checking with security development events, to understand how and where a call for nuclearisation from South Korea could become a possibility. So, the paper focuses on three major processes that all propel the ROK to debate its position on nuclear issues and presents a longitudinal content analysis of the Korea Times: founded in 1950, it is the oldest of the three English-language newspapers published daily in the ROK and it generally thought to provide centrist-leaning news coverage. The coverage was analysed for three particular periods: 1 Discussion a month before and after the six nuclear tests conducted by the DPRK (in 2006, 2009, 2013, 2016, and 2017); 2 South Korea’s domestic politics, 6 months before the three South Korean presidential elections that took place after North Korea’s initial nuclear test (December 2007, December 2012, May 2017); and

54  Virginie Grzelczyk 3 The Six-Party Talks process 2 weeks before and after the six rounds of talks that took place (July 2003, February and June 2004, July, September and November 2005, December 2006, February, March and July 2007). Republic of Korea’s Security Relationships in the Nuclear Sphere North Korean Tests as Prime Driver

The first catalyst considered is the collection of the six nuclear tests that the DPRK has conducted between 2006 and 2017 (See Table 3.1). The content analysis focusing on the world ‘nuclear’ was conducted for the period, for each test, that started a month before each test and a month after. The North Korean nuclear tests were by far the most influential variable when it came to the ROK’s role development, the strengthening of its identity as a more or less Faithful Ally of the US as opposed to only a Protectee. On the eve of North Korea’s first nuclear test on 9 October 2006, the US was busy sending a group of experts to provide inspection training to South Korean officials in the event that the DPRK made good on the Six-Party Talks 19 September 2005 Joint Statement and decided to abandon its nuclear weapons.3 The point about salvaging the Six-Party Talks process as well as managing inter-Korean relations was made by President Roh Moo-hyun several times prior, including during a European tour and when giving a press conference with Finnish President Tarja Jalonen. Roh even suggested there was no real evidence the DPRK would be able to conduct a nuclear test anytime soon.4 A week prior to the first test, Roh was also hinting at a new proposal that would involve both the US and the DPRK, and that could lead to the end of the nuclear standoff.5 This commitment to multilateral diplomacy, peace, and engagement, and especially the ROK’s interest in norms setting would persist over the years, despite repeated North Korean nuclear tests. But upon the DPRK testing its first nuclear weapon, the US reassessed OPLAN 5027, the plan it had formulated in 2002, as both a response to a potential test and as a request by both the South Korean and the US militaries to provide Seoul with a stronger nuclear umbrella.6

Table 3.1  North Korean Nuclear Tests – Content Overview

1 2 3 4 5 6

Test Date

Coding Period Bracket

Articles Analysed

9 October 2006 25 May 2009 12 February 2013 6 January 2016 9 September 2016 3 September 2017

9 September 2006–9 November 2006 25 April 2009–25 June 2009 12 January 2013–12/03/2013 6 December 2015–6 February 2016 9 August 2016–9 October 2016 3 August 2017–3 October 2017 Total:

245 212 301 353 448 364 1,923

Source: Author’s own compilation, based on analysis of Korea Times.

What Role to Play?  55 The US, though, was still concentrating on Roh’s diplomatic options as well, with US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice urging Seoul to bring Pyongyang back to the negotiation table.7 On the domestic front, the ROK public was concerned about how the market would evolve given the test, especially as the market had already fallen down a few days before the actual test date.8 The public was also concerned about who was most responsible for the instability, and what the ROK could do to ensure its own security more effectively. Domestic politics were particularly split on the latter two points. On the instability question, a split between Conservatives and Progressives could be seen, with Conservatives blaming President Roh, and being especially critical of Roh’s engagement policies and aid to North Korea.9 A broader question was that of responsibility, as part of the ROK–US alliance, but also as part of the escalating crisis between the US and the DPRK on the other hand: in the minds of many, the US was to blame regardless.10 These discussions lead to a number of scenarios for the ROK.11 One path would be for the ROK to arm itself independently from the US’ umbrella, and this revived the discussion on South Korean nuclear capability by prompting debates on how feasible this could be: some suggested laser-enriched uranium technology that had been developed years prior by the Korea Atomic Energy Research Institute,12 and some debated on how fast the ROK could arm itself (from a year to a decade).13 The tests also sparked yet another broad conversation on multilateralism and norms: on the diplomatic side, both the PRC and Russia stressed diplomacy along with Roh.14 It was clear though that both the ROK government and the Korean public did not want the situation to escalate: whilst many in South Korea denounced the test, many were wary about retaliation against nuclear facilities in the DPRK, and the ensuring consequences this could have for the stability of the region and the future of their own country.15 By the time the DPRK tested its second nuclear weapon on 25 May 2009, and its third nuclear weapon test on 2 February 2013, the Six-Party Talks had already been stalled for a few years, Lee Myung-bak and Park Geun-hye had replaced liberal Roh Moo-hyun at Grand National Party presidential nominees and winners in December 2007 and December 2012, respectively. After the tests were concluded, very similar postures and attitudes to what had happened in 2006 took place: the US reaffirmed its nuclear umbrella commitment to its ally South Korea.16 With the public at large still relatively indifferent to the new nuclear threat, and the markets also not changing much after the tests,17 a large discussion around the extension of the nuclear umbrella to include tactical nuclear weapons also left parties to thread carefully. Bringing nuclear weapons to counteract a potential North Korean nuclear thread created the risk of legitimising North Korea’s own nuclear weapon testing programme and potential nuclear weapons state status.18At the same time, discussion around bringing back the ROK’s ‘nuclear sovereignty’ arose again: some suggested the DPRK had de-facto rendered void the nuclear-free Korean peninsula declaration signed between Seoul and Pyongyang in 1992, reigniting calls for a South Korea nuclear deterrent.19 Both Obama and Lee worked closely on aligning their views regarding the crisis, by agreeing on tightening the sanction process within the UN, following up

56  Virginie Grzelczyk on United Nations Security Council Resolution 1718 to eventually United Nations ­Security Council Resolution 1874, and United Nations Security Council Resolution 2094.20 Yet, calls to engage the DPRK diplomatically were still many: after the second test, Kim Dae-jung wanted to revive the Sunshine Policy a few weeks before the second test, but was still adamant, post-test, that the majority of South Koreans and the world would favour such policy.21 Other suggested that the SixParty Talks, though stalled, were still an appropriate vehicle to discuss the denuclearisation of the DPRK and of the Korean peninsula.22 The third nuclear test took place once Kim Jong Un had assumed power in the DPRK, however, and by that time, there was less resolve to engage in diplomacy and multilateral fora, especially as the DPRK had also restarted with a regular regimen of missile tests. By early February 2013, and just a few weeks prior to the third test, the mood in Washington and Seoul was resolutely turned towards revising the ROK–US nuclear pact, and considering pre-emptive strikes.23 It also was becoming more difficult for Park Geun-hye to persuade her country that the alliance as it stood was good enough to protect South Korea, and questions regarding the Atomic Energy Agreement between Seoul and Washington, and especially the uranium reprocessing clause that could see South Korean civilian nuclear facilities provide plutonium for a South Korean nuclear weapons generated a lot of debates once again.24 North Korea’s fourth nuclear test on 6 January 2016 was received with the same mix of domestic condemnation and some consternation over both the ability of the US’ nuclear umbrella,25 as well as questions surrounding the quality and accuracy of both South Korean and American intelligence.26 The big difference, however, was that South Korea and the US had been in conversation over the previous few years to bring Terminal High Altitude Area Defence systems, or THAAD over to the Korean peninsula, in a bid to counter North Korea’s potential missile thread. In the wake of the fourth test, President Park Geun-hye was still displaying opposition to the idea of South Korea acquiring its own nuclear weapons but would support the strongest UN sanctions as well as plans to develop an advance missile system in partnership with the US.27 This particular move was important: it hinted indeed at a closer and more cohesive alliance,28 and was also supported by new planning for joint military exercises29 and more support coming from the US with the arrival of the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier Stennis in South Korean waters.30 THAAD units were deployed in North Gyeongsang Province in July 2016 and on 9 September 2016, the DPRK tested its fifth nuclear weapon and a six test took place on 3 September 2017. By then the THAAD system was in place in more location, most hopes of multilateral engagement and peace talks having evaporated throughout the years. South Korean politics were also in a turmoil following the impeachment and removal from office and subsequent arrest of Park Geunhye in March 2017. The military alliance showed signs of close cooperation, with American B-1B bombers sent from Guam to fly over South Korea,31 but most of the domestic discussion still took place around the question of South Korean nuclear power. There were renewed calls for the ROK to develop nuclear weapons,32 but those were also met by strong arguments for opposition, mostly because developing nuclear weapons would mean the end of any hope for the denuclearisation of

What Role to Play?  57 the Korean peninsula, as well as the abandonment of any normative and moral ground arguments around peace and stability that South Korea had developed over the years and had started to embody as a responsible middle power. South Korean Election Cycles as Policy Developer

The second most important catalyst is the three South Korean presidential election campaigns that have taken place since the DPRK has tested its first nuclear weapon. The content analysis focusing on the world ‘nuclear’ was conducted for the period, for each election, that started 6 months before each election day (See Table 3.2). As the 19 December 2007 South Korean elections approached, the country had to deal with the legacy of a multilateral engagement approach with the DPRK via the Six-Party Talks, as well as the effects of the first North Korean test that had been taking place a year prior. President Roh had been a proponent of engagement and had at times been sceptical that the DPRK could indeed conduct a nuclear test. Whilst questions around how to achieve peace on the Korean peninsula were still important and plans were made to develop armistice talks,33 the ROK was concerned about its own nuclear energy production and how it could manage challenges around its energy dependency and its energy safety. Partnerships with the US on developing new reactors complemented the military alliance side of the ­relationship,34 but Seoul also sought to cooperate with Beijing on nuclear fuel r­eprocessing as well.35 South Korea’s nuclear infrastructure was starting to get old, with its Kori reactor having been in operation for the better part of three decades, but also totalling more than 20 per cent of all the incidents that took place over South Korea’s nuclear park.36 New ventures to overcome an ageing and not always clean and safe infrastructure started, such as the opening in July 2007 of the experimental nuclear fusion Korea Superconducting Tokamak Advanced Research reactor in Daejeon.37 Questions around how to manage the increasing amount of nuclear waste produced and the decreasing amount of storage available were raised.38 ­Ultimately, questions regarding the DPRK’s nuclear development weighed little for the three leading candidates (Lee Myung-bak for the conservative Grand National Party, Chung Dong-young for the United New Democratic Party, and Independent Lee Hoi-chang). Denuclearising the DPRK was part of all of their agendas, with varying degrees of engagement, but with the hope that nukes could be negotiated away for economic openness.39 Table 3.2  South Korean Presidential Elections – Content Overview

1 2 3

Election Date

Coding Period Bracket

Articles Analysed

19 December 2007 19 December 2012 9 May 2017

19 June 2007–19 December 2007 19 June 2012–19 December 2012 9 December 2016–9 May 2017 Total:

482 500 498 1,483

Source: Author’s own compilation, based on analysis of Korea Times.

58  Virginie Grzelczyk The December 2012 South Korean election was set in a different context: by then, the Six-Party Talks process had been resolutely abandoned and the DPRK had faced its own power change with Kim Jong-il’s passing and Kim Jong Un ­taking over in January 2012. Debates around nuclear questions thus largely focused on domestic issues regarding the ROK’s nuclear energy, with most of the issues from the 2007 campaign reprised in 2012. The question of ageing nuclear technology was central,40 and leading to uneasiness regarding nuclear energy within the public41: repeated nuclear reactor shutdowns42 and bribery scandals affecting many senior officials at the Korea Hydro Nuclear Power state-run facilities dominated the summer.43 The question of risks associated with nuclear energy was once again brought to the fore just a few weeks before the elections, as Greenpeace sued the South Korean government over denying entry to some of its anti-nuclear activists, thus raising fresh concerns over the handling of nuclear activities and nuclear strategy by the government.44 North Korea’s planned launched on 12 December 2012 of its Unha three-stage rocket had little impact on the elections: conservative Park Geun-hye and liberal Moon Jae-in concurred on the inadequacies of President Lee’s North Korea approach that had called for denuclearisation precluding any other form of support45: both of them argued instead for various forms of engagement with the DPRK, including direct meetings with the leadership. With Park Geun-hye being impeached and arrested in the spring 2017, South Korean elections that were due to take place in December 2017 were brought forward to May 2017 instead. Whilst nuclear and security issues within the international spheres were not a central feature of the 2012 elections, they were at the forefront of the 2017 ones, given that the DPRK had tested nuclear weapons four times since the last South Korean presidential elections, and tested a large number of missiles as well. The role of the US and the partnership with its ally South Korea were once again an important issue, as North Korea threatened to hit American submarines supporting South Korea, for example.46 Presidential candidates had to declare clearly what their preference regarding securing the ROK would be: the THAAD system had been deployed on South Korean ground the year before and many questioned the environmental impact the system would have in the shorter and longer run.47 The US, now under President Trump, was also questioning reintroducing tactical nuclear weapons to South Korea, a move that was opposed by many Korean as well.48 Ultimately, deep questions regarding the future of Korean nuclear energy remained unclear, but the discussions were at least clearly driven by Seoul as opposed to being part of a patron–client relationship: for Moon J­ ae-in, the presidential frontrunner, South Korea would need to limit building new nuclear reactors.49 Yes, he also argued that South Korea needed to develop nuclear submarines in cooperation with the US, thus reigniting arguments around the status of South Korea as a non-nuclear power since 1975, the signature of the 1992 inter-Korean denuclearisation declaration, and the nature of the Seoul–Washington nuclear cooperation deal signed in 2015 and that does not allow for the ROK to enrich uranium beyond a certain value.50

What Role to Play?  59 Six-Party Talks as Marginalised Process

The third most important catalyst is the Six-Party Talks process that took place between 2003 and 2007, and which aimed to denuclearise the Korean peninsula, and which started prior to the DPRK testing its first nuclear weapons in 2006. The content analysis focusing on the world ‘nuclear’ was conducted for the period, for each round, that started 2 weeks before each round stated, and 2 weeks after each round ended (See Table 3.3). Though the Six-Party Talks were focused on the denuclearisation of the Korean peninsula, their effect was marginal as the discussions preceded North Korea’s initial 2006 test. Most of the talks helped in developing a stream of consciousness regarding how the ROK would and should handle its own nuclear development though. The Talks’ premises looking for a peaceful resolution to denuclearise the Korean peninsula was a pervasive concept, however, to allow the ROK to think about how to manage its foreign relationships in the spirit of peace and diplomacy: this was the message prior to the first round of talks of late August 2003.51 The first round and subsequent ones gave a sense of hope to the ROK,52 and supported some of its own policies regarding the importance of engaging with the North, be it with the Sunshine Policy, or through the 2,000 family reunions held between the two Koreas. As the Talks progressed to a third round, the hope of a sustained dialogue with the DPRK grew into more confidence in the easing of tensions over the Korean peninsula. Global ratings agency Moody revised its outlook on Korea’s

Table 3.3  Six-Party Talks – Content Overview Round Date

Coding Period Bracket

Round 1

27–29 August 2003

Round 2

25–28 February 2004

Round 3 Round 4 Phase 1 Round 4 Phase 2

23–26 June 2004 26 July to 7 August 2005 13–19 September 2005

Round 5 Phase 1

9–11 November 2005

Round 5 Phase 2

18–22 December 2006

Round 5 Phase 3

8–13 February 2007

Round 6 Phase 1 Round 6 Phase 2

19–22 March 2007 18–20 July 2007

13 August 2003– 13 September 2003 11 February 2004–14 March 2004 9 June 2004–12 July 2004 12 July 2005–21 August 2005 31 August 2005–2 October 2005 27 October 2005– 25 November 2005 4 December 2006–5 January 2007 25 January 2007–27 February 2007 5 March 2007–5 April 2007 4 July 2007–3 August 2007 Total:

Source: Author’s own compilation, based on analysis of Korea Times.

Articles Analysed 79 60 61 85 64 60 70 76 57 75 687

60  Virginie Grzelczyk risk factor from a negative to a stable one, thus rebalancing risks after the DPRK’s departure from the Non-Proliferation Treaty in 2003. Most of the progresses towards the denuclearisation of the Korean peninsula were achieved during Round 4 with the parties agreeing to a Joint Statement in September 2005, one that would see the verifiable denuclearisation of the Korean peninsula, and North Korea agreeing to abandon its nuclear weapons and re-joining the Non-Proliferation Treaty. The move to verifiable denuclearisation meant that the ROK would potentially be under scrutiny when it came to its own nuclear facilities, and some of its more secretive programmes, and could also face inspections. The discovery in 2004 of a state-run laboratory experimenting on separating weapons-grade nuclear materials meant that the ROK’s contentious history and choices around what peaceful nuclear energy and nuclear sovereignty meant might become even more of a hot issue.53 Returning to the negotiation table for a sixth round in late December 2006 and especially post North Korea nuclear test did not hold the same tenor for the parties and especially the ROK. The ROK and the public were also concerned about the financial contributions Seoul would have to make to honour the terms of the new Joint Statement issued on 13 February 2007, and which saw North Korea committing to the shutting down and sealing of its Yongbyon nuclear facility in exchange for energy assistance.54 Roh’s commitment to engaging the DPRK with diplomacy had now turned tenuous.55 How to Balance Roles: Between Conception and Prescription The ROK’s stances and stakes in the nuclear world have been framed by its security relationship with the DPRK as well as Pyongyang’s weapons development. Whilst those are issues that are operating at the national level and pertain to Seoul’s foreign policy and security policy, Seoul has been engaged at an international level on questions of non-proliferation. It is generally accepted in the literature that South Korea is a middle power (Grzelczyk, 2017; John, 2014; O’Neil, 2015; Watson and Pandey, 2014). As such, it has been engaged in promoting an image of being a ‘­responsible’ middle, one that is committed to world peace as well as progress. Since joining the UN in 1991, the ROK has continued to increase its involvement in peace arrangements. It has actively addressed the Security Council directly to raise awareness on global security issues and contributed support for several disaster relief missions as well such as in Angola or Haiti, before being more of a substantial donor in the field of emergency humanitarian assistance in the 1990s. This growing engagement and expertise helped in considering that the inclusion of middle powers such as both Japan and South Korea to the Six-Party Talks project could be beneficial to integrate diplomatic powers that might have differed from that of other large powers such as the PRC or even the US.56,57 But the ROK’s role in nonproliferation is ambiguous since it does not retain full control of its security as it remains a recipient of the US’ nuclear umbrella choices. This means that the ROK must negotiate three sets of nuclear relationships and associated roles and ­attitudes instead of just the North Korean nuclear rise: (1) the US’ deployment of nuclear weapons on and around the Korean peninsula; (2) the DPRK’s development of

What Role to Play?  61 nuclear weapons and their potential reach; and (3) its own relationship with nuclear energy that is being used peacefully or defensively. The US’ Deployment of Nuclear Weapons On and Around the Korean Peninsula

The US first deployed nuclear weapons in the ROK in January 1958 and maintained them until December 1991. The troops and weapons commitment that the US had made during and after the Korean War started to be reassessed as the Cold War progressed in different parts of Asia, and as the US was significantly involved in the Vietnam conflict: by 1974, the US commander-in-chief of the US Pacific command started to identify new avenues to still maintain stability over Northeast Asia by using an array of conventional weapons as opposed to nuclear weapons.58 The US currently provides security to both the ROK and Japan under a nuclear umbrella that is composed of a number of different types of weapons including bombers, and strategic nuclear forces such as submarines (Kristensen and Norris, 2017). Seoul has benefitted economically from this large conventional and nuclear military force, as it did, not having to invest into its own military to the extent that the DPRK had to, for example, thus allowing for the Korean economy to start growing in the later 1970s and booming later. With the earlier stages of the alliance being deeply asymmetric and South Korea having little choice in choosing its own foreign policy and alliance upon its establishment as a republic in 1948, its role was largely prescribed, based on external influences, in this case the DPRK’s foreign policy, the US’ security choices, and the broader framing of Japanese colonialism that had reduced the Korean peninsula to very little agency. But the ROK’s trajectory over the past few decades indicates a potential shift to a role that has become much more conceptual, created within the confines of national want, as opposed to one prescribed by outside circumstances. This role shift is seen via the ROK becoming more of an active player in the alliance, hence moving from a protectee situation to that of a more ‘mature’ alliance (Kim, 2019). The DPRK’s Development of Nuclear Weapons and Their Potential Reach

The ROK has managed its foreign policy to respond to an increasingly militaristic North Korea. With Pyongyang ramping up its conventional missile tests in order to improve their range, and also steadily testing nuclear weapons as well, South K ­ orea’s fundamental deterrence strategy, one that relies on developing a conventional weapons system superior to that of the DPRK yet resting on the US’ provision of strategic and nuclear weapons is challenged (Kwon, 2018). Seoul’s preference in managing the DPRK’s threat has also heavily rested on engaging the DPRK via dialogue, either bilaterally, or within more multilateral frameworks, but always in partnership with the US. Instead of using conventional forces except for very rare cases when North Korean submarines strayed into South Korean waters or during the shelling of Yeonpyeong in 2010, Seoul has supported dialogue and engagement on the one hand and economic sanctions on the other hand.

62  Virginie Grzelczyk The ROK’s and the Dilemma Over Peaceful Nuclear Energy Only

The debate over nuclear energy within the Korean peninsula also extend to the ROK’s past, present, and future choices. Indeed, Seoul’s interest in nuclear energy dates back to the 1950s and especially US President Eisenhower’s ‘Atoms for Peace’ speech to the UN General Assembly in 1953, in which he suggested harnessing the power of atoms for peaceful purposes as opposed to war-like ones.59 Thus, the Korean government established its own Atomic Energy Department in 1956 and joined the newly created International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) in 1957 (Andrews-Speed, 2020). The ROK has attempted to achieve peaceful nuclear sovereignty, that is to say developing its own nuclear power network in order to compensate its energy needs: Seoul have very little access to fossil fuel, and the 1970s oil crises increased its need to secure a more sustainable energy situation: the highly centralised Park Chung-hee government thus started to rely on nuclear power in 1978, when its first nuclear power plant opened (Choi, Han and Lee, 2021). Over the years, commercial nuclear energy production has grown substantially: as of 2021, South Korea operated 24 nuclear reactors that provided about one-third of all the country’s electricity.60 South Korea’s experience and expertise in the field of nuclear energy has vastly improved since the 1970s, but Seoul c­ urrently does not have the capability to reprocess its spent nuclear fuel. Reprocessing spent nuclear fuel is a complex and at times dangerous activity, and several states, including the US have decided to forego reprocessing and instead opted for long-term storage options. Apart from allowing for nuclear fuel to be partly recycled, reprocessing nuclear fuels also separates uranium, waste, and the plutonium that is created in the reactor when uranium atoms absorb neutrons. For a state that perceives its own security to be endangered, access to plutonium could prove important in making the shift from using nuclear energy only for peaceful purpose to using nuclear energy to develop nuclear weapons. Calls for developing nuclear weapons have increased since Kim Jong-un assumed power in North Korea (Dalton and Francis, 2015). Yet, the public and especially the Moon Jae-in administration have been wary of safety issues, and President Moon pledged to phase out nuclear energy, especially in light of the 2011 Fukushima incident, but also because of continuous problems and technical failures in some of the older South Korean nuclear plants including the Kori-1 reactor, which was the first South Korean plant to open back in 1978 (Lim, 2019). Moon repeated his claim after he took office and suggested when addressing the National Assembly on 1 November 2017 that he pledged the denuclearisation of the Korean peninsula with a target phase out of about 45 years.61 He also ordered a feasibility study to develop a nuclear-powered submarine (Lim, 2019). By many accounts, the ROK has been restrained in its nuclear development and has decided to not develop its own nuclear weapons largely because of the relationship and commitment given by the US (Ko, 2019), yet the concept of ‘nuclear sovereignty’ in the 1970s, under Park Chung-hee, meant developing nuclear weapons (Dalton and Francis, 2015). South Korea has gradually become more involved with its own security and has, for example, deployed its own missile defence system in order to secure against a potential North Korean attack (Choi, Han

What Role to Play?  63 and Lee, 2021). But the delicate balance between promoting denuclearisation, yet considering ­reprocessing spent nuclear fuel and developing nuclear-­propelled submarine cannot be understood separately from what the US is prepared to support, within the context of the alliance. The reality of the US as a patron state within the US–ROK relationship, however, the power asymmetry within the alliance has started to reduce over the years is central: patron states foster nonproliferation by providing appropriate extended deterrence, by placing nuclear weapons on client soil to reinforcing extended deterrence, or they can also mix carrots and sticks to realign the alliance (Ko, 2019). The US and South Korean had sought to manage this relationship by negotiating around the conclusion of a bilateral nuclear cooperation pact to replace the one that governed their nuclear relationship, but that dates back to the 1970s, a time when both the ROK and the DPRK were at very different stages in terms of their access and understanding of nuclear energy. After years of negotiations and push back and forth, with the ROK being particularly sanguine about being allowed to reprocess fuel, the new argument signed in 2015 leaves the door open to potential reprocessing with American technological support. Yet both Koreas agreed in the 1992 joint declaration to not possess enrichment as well as reprocessing facilities. This discrepancy in terms of arguments and priority showcases the extent of South Korea’s own dilemma regarding nuclear energy and the roles it conceives for itself, and the roles that are prescribed by others. Conclusion The main themes derived from looking at the ROK’s handling of its nuclear history, and by extension its interaction with the larger understanding and dealings of nuclear technology globally show an awkward posture when it comes to acquiring nuclear weapons. At the heart of this discussion is the US’ commitment and calculations towards the ROK: 1 How the alliance evolves and how the US and the ROK handle both the narrowing of the asymmetric military position between the two, and a potential shift of American military engagement on the peninsula is capital. In Holsti’s terms, the ROK operated under a Protectee role that is now being more and more challenged. The ROK has also developed as a Regional Subsystem Collaborator, and emergingly as a Regional Protector and which stems from its Official Development Assistance (ODA) experience. 2 The widening military might gaps between the two Koreas: every time the DPRK tests a nuclear weapon or a delivery system, the ROK is further set back by not only having to understand the nature of the operations but also by its inability to match the systems in kind as well, given it is still largely stuck at the debate around whether or not the ROK should develop its own nuclear deterrent. In Holsti’s terms, the ROK has been a Faithful Ally to the US whilst also aiming to build regional momentum to address the insecurities, thus having ­elements of being an emerging and credible Regional Leader; and

64  Virginie Grzelczyk 3 Whether or not South Korea’s nuclear energy can only be of a peaceful kind, in light of negotiation with the US around shifting to reprocessing spent fuel, for example, or acquiring nuclear technology supports from a range of countries is a debate that has a large place within the Korean society. This inclination appears widespread amongst the more conservative audience but population surveys such as the 2013 Gallup poll showed 64 per cent of the population was favourable to South Korea having its own nuclear weapon (Kim, 2020). In Holsti’s terms, the ROK is flirting with the role of Internal development, as well as Independent. The question of reprocessing is also further exacerbated by the fact that Japan has been allowed to reprocess its spent fuel for plutonium (Lim, 2019). In the end, the debate regarding the ROKs nuclear future centres on the understanding of what nuclear sovereignty means, as well as what role Seoul wants to play, especially as a middle power, in a normative international order. But ultimately, democratisation means that South Korea is also heavily reliant on its political elites and parties, and that American commitments need to also understand this degree of variability. Ultimately, the ROK both perceives and experiences a capability asymmetry in light of both the US and the DPRK nuclear weapons. Whether the answer is for the ROK to join the nuclear club, or for both the US and the DPRK to relinquish their weapons in order to achieve a true denuclearisation of the Korean peninsula is likely to now be more complex given the reality of a nuclear Russia’s attach on non-nuclear Ukraine. Notes 1 Robert Einhorn and Duyeon Kim, Bulleting of the Atomic Scientists, “Will South Korea go Nuclear?” 14 August 2016. Available at https://thebulletin.org/2016/08/will-southkorea-go-nuclear/ [Last Accessed 22 February 2022]. 2 CSIS Missile Defence Project, “North Korean Missile Launches & Nuclear Tests: 1984-present,” 18 January 2022. Available at https://missilethreat.csis.org/north-koreamissile-launches-1984-present [Last Accessed 22 February 2022]. 3 The Korea Times, “US Agents Lend Nuclear Expertise,” 12 September 2006 [Last ­Accessed 27 February 2022]. 4 The Korea Times, “Roh Plays Down NK Nuclear Threat,” 9 September 2006 [Last ­Accessed 27 February 2022]. 5 The Korea Times, “Roh Devising Magic Formula to End Nuclear Standoff,” 29 ­September 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 6 The Korea Times, “US Promises Nuclear Umbrella for S. Korea,” 20 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 7 The Korea Times, “US Wants Seoul to Use Leverage Against Pyongyang,” 20 October 2006 [Last Accessed 12 February 2022]. 8 The Korea Times, “Stock Market Falls After Test Threat,” 5 October 2006; “Seoul Worried over Possible Capital Outflow,” 11 October 2006; “Test Has No Immediate Effect on Chaebol,” 11 October 2006; “Banks Say Nuclear Test Effects Not Far-Reaching,” 21 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 9 The Korea Times, “Conservatives Blame Roh, Progressives Blame Bush,” 11 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 10 The Korea Times, “US Most Responsible for Nuclear Test: Poll,” 16 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022].

What Role to Play?  65 11 The Korea Times, “Kim Dae Jung Blames US for Nuke Crisis,” 11 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 12 The Korea Times, “Seoul Has Tech for Making Weapons-Grader Uranium,” 18 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 13 The Korea Times, “Seoul Can Build A-Bombs within 1 Year,” 17 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 14 The Korea Times, “Seoul, Beijing to Persuade North,” 9 October 2006; “Roh, Hu Seek Peaceful Solution,” 13 October 2006; “Roh, Putin Stress Nuclear Diplomacy,” 17 October 2006 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 15 The Korea Times, “Thousands Denounce North’s Nuclear Test,” 23 October 2006; “­Koreans Oppose Air Strikes Against Nuclear Facilities,” 1 November 2006 [Last ­Accessed 27 February 2022]. 16 The Korea Times, “US to Reaffirm Nuke Umbrella for S. Korea,” 31 May 2009; “US Likely to Guarantee Nuke Umbrella for Seoul,” 31 May 2009; “US to Provide ‘­Extended Deterrence’ for S. Korea,” 7 June 2009; “Obama Vows Nuclear Deterrence for S. Korea 13, 2013 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 17 The Korea Times, “South Koreans Indifferent to NK Threat,” 3 June 2009; “[Korea Today] Financial Market Immune to Repeated Threat from North Korea,” 24 June 2009 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 18 The Korea Times, “[Korea Today] US Nuclear Umbrella: Double-Edge Sword for S. Korea,” 24 June 2009 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 19 The Korea Times, “‘Nuclear Sovereignty’,” 29 May 2009 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 20 The Korea Times, “Lee, Obama Agree to Tough Reaction to NK,” 26 May 2009 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 21 The Korea Times, “DJ Seeks to Revive Sunshine Policy,” 8 May 2009; “DJ Reiterates Engagement Policy Toward North Korea,” 17 June 2009 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 22 The Korea Times, “4 Power Remain Firm on Six-Party Talks,” 23 June 2009 [Last ­Accessed 27 February 2022]. 23 The Korea Times, “ROK-US Nuclear Pact Revision Sought,” 2 February 2013; “Military Commander Hints at ‘pre-emptive strike’ on N. Korea,” 7 February 2013 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 24 The Korea Times, “An Itch to go Nuclear,” 14 February 2013; “7 in 10 Backs Nuke Acquisition,” 20 February 2013; “US Nuke Umbrella Not Enough,” 19 February 2013 [Last Accessed 27 February 2022]. 25 The Korea Times, “Leaking Nuclear Umbrella,” 2 February 2016 [Last Accessed 27 February 2023]. 26 The Korea Times, “Korea, US Intelligence Capabilities in Question,” 14 January 2016 [Last Accessed 27 February 2023]. 27 The Korea Times, “Park Hints at THAAD Deployment,” 13 January 2016 [Last Accessed 27 February 2023]. 28 The Korea Times, “Allies Gear Up for Show of Force to Counter N. Korea’s Nuke Test,” 7 January 2016 [Last Accessed 27 February 2023]. 29 The Korea Times, “Korea, US Plan Exercise Targeting UK Nuke Facilities,” 12 January 2016 [Last Accessed 27 February 2023]. 30 The Korea Times, “US Deploys Another Nuclear Carrier,” 19 January 2016 [Last Accessed 27 February 2023]. 31 The Korea Times, “B-1B Bombers Fly over S. Korea,” 21 September 2016. 32 The Korea Times, “S. Korea Needs no Nuclear Weapons,” 22 September 2016; “‘Nuclear Trap’ Lies Ahead for Seoul,” 11 September 2017 [Last Accessed 27 February 2023]. 33 The Korea Times, “S. Korea Seeks Forma End to Korean War,” 9 July 2007; S. Korea to Head Armistice Missions by 2012,” 7 November 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022].

66  Virginie Grzelczyk 34 The Korea Times, “S. Korea, US to Cooperate on New Nuke Reactor,” 11 August 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 35 The Korea Times, “Seoul to Propose Joint Atomic Fuel Reprocessing Research with Beijing,” 21 October 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 36 The Korea Times, “30-year-old Gori Reactor to be Operated for 10 More Years,” 6 December 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 37 The Korea Times, “Nuke Fusion Test Reactor Completed in Daejon,” 13 September 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 38 The Korea Times, “70% of Storage Facilities for Spent Nuclear Fuel Filled,” 4 S ­ eptember 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 39 The Korea Times, “Election Offers Koreans Stark Choice,” 30 October 2007; “[­Election] Candidates Split Over Approach to North Korea,” 22 November 2007 [Last ­Accessed 28 February 2022]. 40 The Korea Times, “Two Nuclear Reactors Halt Operation Due to Malfunctions,” 2 October 2012 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 41 The Korea Times, “Uneasiness rises over aging reactors,” 21 June 2012 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 42 The Korea Times, “Nuclear Reactor Shuts Down in Southern Korea,” 24 August 2012 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 43 The Korea Times, “Nuclear Engineer Gets Prison Sentence,” 10 July 2012; “­Nuclear power Official Nabbed for Bribery, 6 August 2012 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 44 The Korea Times, “Greenpeace Sues Korea Over Entry Denial,” 10 December 2012 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 45 The Korea Times, “Three Candidates Poised to Highlight Policy Differences,” 30 November 2012 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 46 The Korea Times, “N. Korea threatens to Sink US Submarine Deployed to S. Korea,” 30 April 2017 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 47 The Korea Times, “Presidential Candidates Diverge on THAAD Installation,” 26 April 2017 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 48 The Korea Times, “S. Korea Reiterates Nuke-Free Stance Amid Talk of Redeploying U.S. Nukes,” 7 March 2017 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 49 The Korea Times, “Moon Promises to Scrap Plans to Build New Nuclear Reactors,” 11 April 2017 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 50 The Korea Times, “[Election 2017] S. Korea needs Nuclear Submarines: Leading Candidate,” 27 April 2017 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 51 The Korea Times, “6 Nations Agree to Tackle Nuke Issue Peacefully,” 20 August 2003 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 52 The Korea Times, “Euphoria Grows on Eve of Nuke Talks,” 25 February 2004 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 53 The Korea Times, “S. Korea May Face Nuke Inspections,” 1 October 2005, 2004 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 54 The Korea Times, “Nuclear Deal Costly for Seoul,” 15 February 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 55 The Korea Times, “Roh Calls for Peace Treaty to End Armistice,” 13 March 2007 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 56 The Korea Times, “Moody’s Upgrades Korea’s Rating Outlook,” 12 June 2004 [Last Accessed 28 February 2022]. 57 The Vancouver Sun, “Japan aims to be a regional policeman: Tokyo is coming to recognize that it can no longer avoid taking an active role in Asian regional security matters,” 8 October 1998. 58 Defence Threat Reduction Agency, “Defense Special Weapons Agency 1947–1997,” 1988. Available at https://www.dtra.mil/Portals/61/Documents/History/DSWA_19471997.pdf [Last Accessed 23 February 2022].

What Role to Play?  67 59 “Address by Mr. Dwight D. Eisenhower, President of the United States of America, to the 470th Plenary Meeting of the UN General Assembly,” 8 December 1953. Available at https://www.iaea.org/about/history/atoms-for-peace-speech [Last Accessed 23 ­February 2022]. 60 World Nuclear Association, “Nuclear Power in South Korea,” October 2021. Available at https://world-nuclear.org/information-library/country-profiles/countries-o-s/southkorea.aspx [Last Accessed 24 February 2022]. 61 World Nuclear Association, “Nuclear Power in South Korea,” October 2021. Available at https://world-nuclear.org/information-library/country-profiles/countries-o-s/southkorea.aspx [Last Accessed 24 February 2022].

References Ahn, Mun Suk, and Young Chul Cho. 2014. “A Nuclear South Korea?” International Journal 69 (1):26–34. Andrews-Speed, Philip. 2020. “South Korea’s Nuclear Power Industry: Recovering From Scandal.” The Journal of World Energy Law & Business 13 (1):47–57. Backman, Carl W. 1970. “Role Theory and International Relations: A Commentary and Extension.” International Studies Quarterly 14 (3):310–319. Caisova, Lenka. 2018. “Role Theoretic Approach and North Korean Foreign Policy Analysis.” Journal of International Relations 15 (1):10–33. Choi, Yoon Seok, Eun Ok Han, and Seung Koo Lee. 2021. “Influence of Nuclear Power Perception by Leadership Groups of South Korea on Nuclear Power Policy.” Energy Strategy Reviews 35:100654. Dalton, Toby, and Alexandra Francis. 2015. “South Korea’s Search for Nuclear Sovereignty.” Asia Policy 19 (1):115–136. Grzelczyk, Virginie. 2017. “The Coming of Age of South Korea: Power, Influence and Implications.” In Korea’s Quest for Economic Democracy, edited by Youngmi Kim, 21. London: Palgrave. Grzelczyk, Virginie. 2022. “Neither This Nor That: Understanding North Korea via Role Theory.” In Awkward Powers: Escaping Traditional Great and Middle Power Theory, edited by Gabriele Abbondanza and Thomas Stow Wilkins, 261–283. Singapore: Springer Singapore. Hermanns, Heike. 2013. “National Role Conceptions in the Global Korea Foreign Policy Strategy.” The Korean Journal of International Studies 11 (1):55–82. Holsti, Kalevi. J. 1970. “National Role Conceptions in the Study of Foreign Policy.” International Studies Quarterly 14 (3):233–309. John, Jojin V. 2014. “Becoming and Being a Middle Power: Exploring a New Dimension of South Korea’s Foreign Policy.” China Report 50 (4):325–341. Kim, Duyeon. 2020. “How to Keep South Korea from Going Nuclear.” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 76 (2):68–75. Kim, Young-Ho. 2019. “Diplomatic Achievement of the Republic of Korea and Challenges in the Twenty-First Century.” In South Korea’s 70-Year Endeavor for Foreign Policy, National Defense, and Unification, edited by Sung-Wook Nam, Sang-Woo Rhee, Myongsob Kim, Young-Ho Kim, Yong-Sub Han, Young-Soon Chung and Seong-Ok Yoo. Singapore: Springer. Ko, Jiyoung. 2019. “Alliance and Public Preference for Nuclear Forbearance: Evidence from South Korea.” Foreign Policy Analysis 15 (4):509–529. Kristensen, Hans M., and Robert S. Norris. 2017. “A History of US Nuclear Weapons in South Korea.” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 73 (6):349–357.

68  Virginie Grzelczyk Kwon, Edward. 2018. “Policies of Last Resort for Dealing with North Korea’s Nuclear Weapons Programme.” Asian Affairs 49 (3):402–432. Lee, Sook-Jong. 2012. “South Korea as New Middle Power Seeking Complex Diplomacy.” In East Asia Security Initiative: East Asia Institute (EAI). Lim, Eunjung. 2019. “South Korea’s Nuclear Dilemmas.” Journal for Peace and Nuclear Disarmament 2 (1):297–318. O’Neil, Andrew. 2015. “South Korea as a Middle Power: Global Ambitions and Looming Challenges.” In Middle-Power Korea: Contributions to the Global Agenda, edited by Colin I. Bradford, Brendan M. Howe, Jill Kosch O’Donnell, Andrew O’Neil and Scott Snyder. New York, NY: Council on Foreign Relations. Watson, Iain, and Chandra Lal Pandey. 2014. “Environmental Security and New Middle Powers: The Case of South Korea.” Asian Security 10 (1):70–95.

4

Reassessing the South Korea-ChinaJapan Trilateral Summits The Limits of Institutionalism in East Asia Ed Griffith

Introduction South Korea-China-Japan tripartite cooperation formally began in 1999, with the introduction of supposedly annual leaders’ summits in 2008. The summits stalled a number of times and are widely considered to have achieved little. This chapter considers whether it is correct to characterise these summits as a failure and explores the factors that have hindered further progress. The chapter argues that although the summits might be considered to have been largely a failure by the highest-level criteria applied in International Relations (IR) scholarship, there have been some relatively minor and low-level achievements that have brought tangible benefit within and across the three countries. The reasons for this limited progress are multiple but are centred on the connected issues of the region’s historical hangover and a concomitant absence of trust at the political and societal levels. Nevertheless, the depth of institutionalisation through the process is frequently overlooked and the chapter argues that this depth is cause for optimism. The establishment of the Tripartite Cooperation Secretariat (TCS) in Seoul combines with almost 100 separate regular dialogue mechanisms, including more than 20 at ministerial level, to provide a functioning low-level institutionalisation that produces policies and agreements that can make a positive impact on the lives of the people in the region. Thus, while the shortcomings of the process as a whole should not be underplayed and the barriers to greater integration remain unaddressed, the wider process of tripartite institutionalisation has actually been more successful than is frequently assumed. This chapter has examined more than 100 documents from the digital archives of the TCS that include joint statements, joint communiqués, joint declarations, action plans and briefing papers all considered in the context of contemporaneous media reporting of the events to which they refer and the summits at which they were agreed. The results are presented later in this chapter in largely chronological order, to provide a picture of the tripartite cooperation process which is examined against a neoliberal institutional analysis to assess the efficacy of this attempt at institutionalisation. The chapter begins with a brief overview of the extant E ­ nglish-language academic work on tripartite cooperation. It then outlines a neoliberal institutionalist theoretical framework to provide a coherent set of criteria against which to DOI: 10.4324/9781003392569-4

70  Ed Griffith measure the progress, or otherwise, of the institutionalisation process in East Asia. Some background to the formal process is then provided before a more detailed analysis of the period of time since the commencement of the leaders’ summits in 2008 and the formal declarations of institutionalisation. The implications for South Korea’s national interests and regional strategy of the limited progress that has been made in this process are then outlined. In reviewing this, the chapter concurs with the general consensus around the barriers to deeper political integration, but also highlights some of the lower-profile success stories and the range of dialogue mechanisms that is frequently underestimated in scope. Attempts to analyse the processes of regionalism in East Asia have tended to focus on the reasons that it is so difficult. For example, Yong Deng examined the context of Asia-Pacific regionalism, identifying the way countries relate to each other as a uniquely ‘emotional’ dimension that often defies ‘rational’ calculations of economic and political interests which underpins a mutual suspicion stemming from present irritants and historical enmity, engendering an inherent rivalry in shaping the regional order (Deng, 1997: 385–386). The external influence of the United States (US) is commonly cited as a barrier to greater integration between China, Japan and South Korea (Yeo, 2012) as are the ongoing territorial disputes within the region (Casarini, 2014; Yeo 2017a & 2017b). The issues of divergent interpretations of history in addition to these unresolved territorial disputes have also been identified among the major barriers to more successful integration (Sakaki and Wacker, 2017). The development of Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN)-centric institutions is noted to be the major driving force in regional integration (Reiterer, 2017), and it has even been suggested that the European Union (EU) served as a model for some of the later drives towards integration process between South ­Korea, China and Japan (Kim, 2017). The economic element of the trilateral ­cooperation process has certainly received some attention. Singh (2012) notes the potential for developing an East Asian free trade agreement (FTA) represents ­potentially the most significant contribution of tripartite cooperation. However, the prospects of this being accomplished on the sort of scale that would transform the region’s relations are ‘unlikely… in the near future’ (Yeung, 2021: 220). The cooperation on areas such as tourism, education and culture has been called ‘symbolic’ and ‘easier for reaching consensus’ than some of the more political contentious issues (Terada, 2012: 4). Overall, the extant English-language academic literature is relatively sparse and assesses the ongoing historical and territorial disputes as barriers to deep, successful integration, ordinarily interpreted in terms within economic and formal political institutionalisation parameters of analysis. Neoliberal Institutionalism In the context of IR but rooted in the centuries-old European philosophical tradition of liberal thought (Kant, 1991; Mill, 1982; Rousseau, 1968), liberalism focusses on the ability of states to accept the possibility of mutual interests. This allows that the seemingly perpetual state of conflict in the international system is

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 71 neither natural nor inescapable (Zimmern, 1936). Liberals view IR from a statecentric perspective but allow for these states to find common ground that enables them to cooperate for mutual gain that, in turn, increases the costs of military conflict to a prohibitive level (Angell, 1910: 30–34) and frequently provides disincentive for other forms of conflict. This school of thought recognises that the international system is an anarchical one, in that it has no higher authority than the states of which it is collectively constituted and that such a condition brings about inherent difficulties in managing state-to-state interaction without such an authority to enforce agreements. To counter this, liberals have stressed the importance of institutionalisation. That is to say that liberals opine the uncertainty of the anarchical system can be mitigated by introducing formal institutions within which states can manage their relationships, ensuring that mechanisms are in place to enforce multilateral agreements. The formalised institutional mechanism is considered to be both a source of rule enforcement, thus mitigating the effects of anarchy, as well as a system to build confidence in relationships between states that should improve the scope for further cooperation. Central to this thought is the idea that cooperation between states can be mutually beneficial and that interaction does not need to be a so-called ‘zero-sum’ equation whereby the gains of one party are always at the equal cost of others. Instead of viewing states as trapped in a cycle of mistrust, liberal institutionalists have actively sought ways in which this could be avoided. Perhaps most famously, Keohane and Nye (1989) challenged the assumption that states were akin to ‘­billiard balls’1 that bounce against each other without ever penetrating their respective outer shells and argued, instead, that the number of actors actually involved in IR had been seriously underestimated by IR theory. While states ­remained the primary focus of their work, they considered other transnational actors to also have relevance and agency within a cobweb of interrelation. The international system was, then, far more complex than had ever been previously estimated (Keohane and Nye, 1989: 83). While this model was ground-breaking in terms of IR theoretical positions, it continued a fundamental liberal assumption: that interaction could be regulated by the development of rule-based institutions or regimes, allowing for cooperation and mutual benefit in the international system and providing a mechanism by which to mitigate mistrust and fear. Neoliberal institutionalists see the creation and maintenance of international organisations as a ‘constructed focal point’ around which they can coalesce and maximise cooperative gains in areas of mutual interest, increasing mutual confidence and reducing the risk of conflict (Keohane and Martin, 1995: 45). There are myriad types of institution and multiple examples of both successes and failures in establishing and maintaining them. Most neoliberal institutionalists would point to the EU as the most prominent and successful regional example (Moravcsik, 2002), but the longevity and constructive diplomatic development of ASEAN shows that this is not a Eurocentric concept (Intal and Chen, 2017). It would be unrealistic to expect the institutionalisation process of the trilateral summit to follow the path of the EU; the sheer size differential between the states and the fundamentally contradictory political systems would not allow this. ASEAN, though,

72  Ed Griffith offers a glimpse of what ‘success’ in the trilateral institutionalisation process might look like. While there are obvious differences, most notably in the number and international profile of the constituent states, the contradictory ­political systems and challenging conflicting national interests are common in both. ­ASEAN’s stability and continued provision of space for diplomatic processes do not provide a precise blueprint for China, Japan and South Korea, but it is this sort of model to which a neoliberal institutionalist would espouse that they should aspire. Considering the most important issue in South Korea’s international relations is the question of its relationship with North Korea and the existential threat that it poses, an optimal outcome of an institutionalisation process in the region would be one that produced an organisation with the capability to discuss and address the nuclear issue. This is not to suggest that anything short of this ought to be considered failure but merely to indicate the criteria against which success might be reasonably judged, particularly from a South Korean perspective. The Origin of the Summits The process of trilateralisation, or what came to be called tripartite cooperation, can be traced back to the East Asian financial crisis of 1997, when targeted attacks by speculators led to the collapse of several currencies and triggered a financial crisis that brought turbulence throughout Asia and beyond. South Korea was one of the economies most severely affected, suffering a decline in economic output of more than 33 per cent. Although China and Japan weathered this financial storm somewhat better, it was clear that some level of cooperation was required to protect the wider region from a recurrence. In December 1997, the three countries began attending ASEAN summits on an informal basis that quickly became formalised as ASEAN Plus Three (APT), which was institutionalised in 1999. It was from a meeting of APT in May 2000 that the region’s response to the financial crisis was conceived and agreed. A series of bilateral currency swap agreements across the 13 countries was devised to provide greater levels of support for any of the region’s currencies that came under attack from speculation, protecting individual financial systems and preventing the contagion that had characterised the 1997 crisis. Named for the Thai city in which the APT meeting was held, the Chiang Mai Initiative remains one of the region’s great success stories in providing an institutionalised response to a common threat. It was expanded and strengthened in 2009 and remains in force. With ASEAN at the heart of the regionalisation process, the APT meetings were formalised as a regular addendum to the annual ASEAN summits. Attending these summits provided an opportunity for the three leaders2 to meet in a neutral venue, not only as part of the 13-country organisation but bilaterally and then trilaterally. These meetings were particularly important during the early 2000s when the persistent visits to Yasukuni Shrine by then-Prime Minister Koizumi Junichiro became a significant issue in Japan’s relationship with both China and South Korea. Without the leaders’ meetings on the side-lines of these summits, there would have been no direct communication between the respective leaders at all during the period of highest tension at this time.

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 73 The 1990s and early 2000s saw a proliferation of regional and international organisations and summits that included states from across Asia. Centred around the expansion of ASEAN,3 with the establishment of the various ASEAN add-ons such as the previously mentioned APT, the East Asia Summit (EAS)4 and the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF),5 it was increasingly clear that the regionalisation process was not being driven – or guided – by the most powerful states in East Asia. To some extent, the establishment of a trilateral process was an attempt to address this (Rathus, 2010). That is not to suggest that the aim was ever to replace ASEAN in the process, but it certainly represented a conscious effort to develop a forum in which the three largest economies of the region could meet to find common ground and mitigate the inevitable tensions. The Summits Since 2008 The first leaders’ summit was held in 2008 in Fukuoka, Japan. That the summit was held at all indicated that there had been something of a thawing of relations, particularly in the two bilateral relationships that involve Japan, in the aftermath of former Prime Minister Koizumi’s repeated visits to Yasukuni Shrine during his tenure from 2001 to 2006. The three leaders reached a series of quite small-scale agreements in particularly uncontroversial areas, such as on disaster management cooperation for responses to earthquakes, typhoons, floods and tsunamis.6 Regular meetings in this field were established as part of the wider summitry process. Perhaps the most significant agreement at this first meeting was that it would become a regular meeting itself; although explicitly proposed prior to the summit, it was not a formal agreement until the Fukuoka summit. The joint statement laid out the intention of this regularisation, noting: that the three leaders had gathered to ‘lay a solid foundation in promoting our tripartite cooperation in the years to come’; that the three countries ‘share common challenges as well as opportunities’; that the process was intended to continue ‘enhancing mutual political trust, increasing trade and economic contact, expanding social and cultural exchange and strengthening financial cooperation’; and concluding that they had ‘committed ourselves to further promote our trilateral cooperation’ (TCS, 2008a). This first summit also produced a joint statement on International Finance and Economy, although it is notable that the content of this statement is a reiteration and formal approval of an agreement that had been reached during a meeting of the finance ministers from the three countries one month previously in Washington DC (TCS, 2008b, 2008c). That agreement had increased the level of bilateral swap arrangements in place to help stabilise the currencies of the region as previously outlined in the Chiang Mai Initiative and had also produced a mechanism for regular meetings of the governors of the respective central banks (TCS, 2008a). There are two noteworthy observations to be made about this agreement. Firstly, this is an example of an actual policy on which the three states had reached agreement through the trilateral process, but it was achieved away from the leaders’ summit rather than as a direct outcome of it. Secondly, these meetings of finance ministers were not new and represented a continuation of a process that had been taking

74  Ed Griffith place on the side-lines of Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) meetings since 2000. In 2009, the second leaders’ summit was held in Beijing on 10 October. Despite being only the second meeting of the three leaders, the summit ostensibly marked the tenth anniversary of trilateral cooperation that had been initiated in 1999, and this was recognised by a specific joint statement on the anniversary. The statement was thin on detailed actions but ambitious in terms of the future scope of trilateral cooperation, albeit in a somewhat abstract manner. It noted that the three sides had agreed to five actions for the trilateral cooperation to undertake: ‘1. Build up mutual trust in the political field …. 2. Deepen mutually beneficial cooperation …. 3. Expand people-to-people exchanges …. 4. Promote peace, stability and prosperity of Asia …. 5. Actively respond to global issues’ (TCS, 2009a). The summit also had a focus on environmental issues, with the joint statement endorsed the outcome of an earlier meeting of the ministers of environment and outlining a new mechanism for regular meetings for ministers responsible for water resources (TCS, 2009b). This represented a continuation of the pattern of emphasising lowerlevel meetings and widening contact between departments with responsibility for specific, limited areas of common interest. The 2010 leaders’ summit completed the first cycle of rotating the hosting as the leaders met for the first time in South Korea, in Jeju Island on 29 May. The outcomes of the summit show a continued commitment to tackling common environmental challenges, notably in the areas of pollution prevention, water sustainability and responses to natural disaster. There was also an agreement on a ‘Vision 2020’, that sought to make explicit the formal institutionalisation of the tripartite cooperation, reaffirming the areas of cooperation that had been made explicit in earlier statements but with more specific aims and measures outlined. While this was explicitly intended to provide a roadmap for the following decade, the tripartite began this formal institutionalisation process immediately with an agreement to establish a permanent secretariat in Seoul. The TCS was formally agreed at the 2010 summit and came into being, as planned, in 2011. It is the most significant achievement in terms of concrete institutionalisation, albeit one that has remained relatively small and not particularly well known for its work or influence. It is overseen by a Consultative Board consisting of a Secretary General, who serves one two-year term and is appointed by each country on a rotational basis, with two Deputy Secretary Generals from each of the other two countries, each serving a maximum of two two-year terms (with the additional possibility of becoming Secretary General on completion of their term as Deputy Secretary-General).7 This guarantees equal representation of the three member states at the level of the Consultative Board. Underneath this there are four departments: Political Affairs; Socio-Cultural Affairs; Economic Affairs; and Management and Coordination. The TCS is established along similar lines to other major international organisations, with immunity from local laws and taxes for those working inside. It has the same status as a diplomatic mission and both its premises and archive are considered to be ‘inviolable’ (TCS, 2010a). The working language of the TCS is English, although some of the publications that it

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 75 produces are also released in Chinese, Japanese and Korean. The TCS website has been developed since the inception of the organisation and is now a repository for myriad documents and databases on trilateral cooperation, providing an invaluable resource for tracking the progress (or limitations) of the institution. The fourth leaders’ summit was held in Tokyo on 22 May 2011. It came in the aftermath of the Tohoku earthquake, tsunami and resultant nuclear meltdown at Fukushima that, combined, claimed the lives of around 20,000 people. The then Japanese prime minister Kan Naoto had proposed the summit be held in Fukushima as a mark of solidarity, but this plan was not carried out. Nuclear power plant safety was a focus of discussion, and an agreement was reached to establish an emergency notification system and share information in the event of incidents.8 The joint statement also referred to a meeting of the tourism ministers that had taken place in 2010 and affirmed the target set to ‘expand the scale of people-to-people exchange to 26 million by 2015’ (TCS, 2010b & 2011). Although there is some ambiguity in the wording of this target, progress towards it is reported on the TCS website and this allows us to understand that the target specifically referred to the annual number of tourist visits between South Korea, China and Japan. It is notable again that the statement emphasised an agreement made at a lower level and also that this was not in an area of high politics. The fifth summit was held on 13 May 2012 in Beijing. The joint statement affirmed a commitment to establishing a FTA between the three countries, although notably there was no mechanism or timeframe outlined in order to facilitate this (TCS, 2012). Separate statements on agriculture and sustainable forest management also indicated a continued pattern of agreements on practical matters related to commonly faced environmental challenges. The statement also ‘encouraged and supported’ the establishment of an East Asian Cultural City programme and invited consultation on a joint culture and art festival. The cultural city programme was established in 2014 with a city from each country being nominated every year, beginning with Gwangju in South Korea, Quanzhou in China and Yokohama in Japan. There were no further leaders’ summits until 2015. The immediate trigger for their suspension was a reignition of the dispute over the Senkaku/Diaoyu islands.9 The islands have been under Japanese control since the United States formally ended its occupation of Okinawa in 1972. China claims the islands have been Chinese territory since the 1300s and were occupied by Japan after the end of the First Sino-Japanese War in 1895, while Japan’s position is that the islands were terra nullius at that time and legally absorbed into the Japanese state. In April 2012, Ishihara Shintaro, the then-Governor of Tokyo and a prominent nationalistic politician with a reputation for historical revisionism and animosity towards China, announced his intention to use Tokyo governmental funds to purchase the islands from their private owner, despite them actually being part of Okinawa Prefecture under Japanese law. A fund set up to support this action attracted in excess of 1.3 billion yen (around USD 16 million) from private donations and opinion polls in Japan suggested that as much as 70 per cent of the population supported his plan (Tanaka, 2012: 2).

76  Ed Griffith Prime Minister Noda ultimately felt that he was left with a straight choice between allowing Ishihara’s purchase and development of the islands to go ahead or stepping in and nationalising the islands through the central government. In July 2012, he announced that the government would do the latter. Although no public statement was made to the effect, it was widely understood that the intention behind the decision was to bring about a conclusion that would be least provocative to China (Lam, 2013: 91; Tseng, 2013: 115; Wang, 2013: 11). The announcement prompted a fierce diplomatic and societal response from China, with protests in more than 100 Chinese cities turning violent in many instances. Political contact at the highest level ceased, and the leaders’ summits were suspended. The return of Abe Shinzo as prime minister of Japan in late 2012 exacerbated political tensions, and his visit to Yasukuni Shrine one year later – the first time a serving prime minister had done so since Koizumi left office in 2006 – was considered particularly provocative in both South Korea and China. It should be noted that the headline of summit suspension can give a false impression that trilateral cooperation ceased during this time, but the reality was that lower level ministerial and other meetings carried on and the TCS continued to function. During 2013 and 2014, there were ministerial level meetings on health, culture, environment, finance and transport, with a number of joint statements released. Iwatani Shigeo became the first Japanese holder of the role of Secretary General of the TCS in 2013. That the institution continued to function and to facilitate ministerial contact on practical issues of common interest at a time of political tension actually demonstrates that it had begun to serve the purpose that neoliberal institutionalists would hope for. The leaders’ summit returned in 2015, hosted in Seoul, meaning that the rotation had continued as if there were no interruption. There was no official joint statement on this occasion but there was a joint press release which explicitly acknowledged ‘that steady progress has been made in trilateral cooperation in various areas despite fluid situations in the Northeast Asian region in recent years’, echoing the point made earlier, but went on to declare that ‘trilateral cooperation has been completely restored on the occasion of this Summit’ (TCS, 2015).10 This underlines the symbolic significance of leaders’ meetings as a means of providing confirmation of the importance of agreements reached through the ministerial meetings. The statement also outlined plans to increase cooperation with more than 50 intergovernmental consultative mechanisms, of which around 20 would be ministerial level. The specific ministries to be involved were not named and it is not clear if this figure was intended to be in addition to those already taking part in the processes, but this, nonetheless, represented a commitment to expanding the meetings that had served the institution well during the previous difficult period. There would be no further leaders’ summits until 2018, making this the only one in a five-year period. The hiatus of leaders’ summits on this occasion was explained in diplomatic terms as a ‘scheduling issue’ (Hurst, 2018) although it is widely understood that this was a euphemism for the political turmoil in South Korea over President Park Geun-hye, who was eventually removed from office in 2017. Again, the tripartite machinery continued to function, with ministerial meetings in 2016 and 2017 in

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 77 the fields of trade, health, finance, transport, environment, education and culture, as well as the successful transition of the TCS Consultative Board as planned in 2017. The previously mentioned East Asia City of Culture also continued unaffected through this time with Jeju, Ningbo and Nara being named for 2016 and Daegu, Changsha and Kyoto in 2017. When the leaders’ summit did return in 2018, it is notable that there was a political impetus in the uncertainty over President Trump’s attitude to the US respective alliances with South Korea and Japan, as well as a fluid diplomatic situation with North Korea (Griffith, 2021; Kim, 2018). The summit was held in Tokyo and the meeting was dominated by the topic of political détente between the United States and North Korea. This was indicated in the joint statement which reaffirmed that the tripartite was ‘committed to the complete denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula’ (TCS, 2018a). It also included a slightly unusual formulation of wording for a three-way joint statement that specified the ‘leaders of the People’s Republic of China (PRC or China) and the Republic of Korea (ROK or South Korea) hope that the abductions issue between Japan and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK or North Korea) will be resolved through dialogue as soon as possible’ (TCS, 2018a). This abduction issue, which refers to a number of Japanese citizens abducted by North Korea in the 1970s and 1980s,11 is prominent in Japanese domestic politics, and it is important for Japanese leaders to keep an international focus on it, if only for symbolic purposes to play to the domestic audience. The leaders’ summit returned to China in December 2019 and was held in Chengdu. The COVID-19 outbreak had already begun but was not widely recognised as the global pandemic it would become. The joint statement focussed on marking the anniversary of tripartite cooperation and laid out a vision for the following decade. It explicitly committed that the leaders’ summits should be held regularly, a tacit acknowledgement that this is the area that the institutionalisation process has struggled throughout the decade, although nobody involved could have predicted that a global pandemic was about to prevent the realisation of this aim. At the time of writing, there has been no date confirmed for the next leaders’ summit (for a summary of the summits and their major outcomes see Table 4.1). Table 4.1  All of the Leaders’ Summits since Their Inception in 2008 Year

Host

Notable Outcomes

2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2015 2018 2019

Japan China South Korea Japan China South Korea Japan China

Establishment of Regular Summits Trilateral Ministerial Meetings on Water Resources Established Establishment of TCS People-to-People Target Set Endorsement of FTA Negotiations; Establishment of City of Culture Resumption of Trilateral Cultural Industry Forum Trilateral Consular Consultation Vision for Next Decade

Source: Author’s own compilation.

78  Ed Griffith The Limits of Institutionalisation in East Asia The trilateral summit process is not widely considered to be particularly successful or notable in terms of the development of an institutionalised regime in East Asian international politics (Sakaki and Wacker, 2017). There are two reasons for this scepticism among observers. Firstly, attention has been largely focussed on the leaders’ summits and these supposedly annual events have now been paused for at least two years on three occasions.12 When the process is viewed through a lens that casts these leaders’ summits as the raison d’etre of the trilateral cooperation, the simple fact that they are hostage to the predictable and recurring outbreaks of tensions over the very issues that one might hope could be addressed through multilateralism appears to undermine any prospect for success. If the summits are cancelled every time there is bilateral, or trilateral tension, how are they supposed to be part of the solution? Secondly, and linked to this focus on the leaders’ summits, it is difficult to point to any grand, large-scale policies or agreements that could be said to have fundamentally altered the international political landscape in East Asia since the instigation of these summits in 2008. As noted earlier, the first suspension of leaders’ summits came in the wake of Japan’s nationalisation of the Senkaku/Diaoyu islands in 2012. Although this was a bilateral issue between China and Japan13 in which South Korea ostensibly had no role, it served to underline how fragile a three-way process could be when it was reliant on the continued strength of three distinct bilateral relationships, each with their own set of specific causes of tension in addition to the common ground of potential conflict that encompassed all three. It should also be noted that South Korea’s own territorial dispute with Japan over Dokdo14 meant Seoul was sensitive to this sort of perceived provocation even when it was not the target. Indeed, President Lee Myung-bak’s visit to Dokdo in August 2012 was met with strong condemnation by Japan which recalled its ambassador from Seoul in protest, contributing to the tension and ill-feeling in the trilateral relationship at the time. All of this was exacerbated by the election of Abe Shinzo in December 2012. Abe had been prime minister from 2006 to 2007, having served in Koizumi’s cabinet before that and had been a staunch supporter of Koizumi’s hard line on the history issue. Indeed, it was widely considered that Abe was more ‘hawkish’ on the history issue than Koizumi, with the former viewed as seeing some form of historical revisionism as something of a personal crusade while the latter was more opportunistic in his approach to this issue (Green, 2008: 175; Yoshihara, 2008: 62). When Abe visited Yasukuni Shrine in December 2013, marking exactly one year in office, he understood that he was risking severing any potential relationship with both South Korean and Chinese leaders, at least at the highest political level. It is notable that a fairly significant concession on the history issue was extracted from Abe in the form of his agreement with President Park over the comfort women issue, before any resumption of leaders’ summits could be considered. This is not to suggest that the primary motivation for this statement was an attempt to restart the tripartite cooperation process. Indeed, it seems unlikely that this was even a major part of the consideration when the statement and compensation were

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 79 agreed. It does, however, underline the centrality of this issue in facilitating the political relationships in the region. That the tripartite cooperation process has not produced an agreement to fundamentally alter the landscape of international politics in East Asia is inextricably linked to the issues described above. An ideal scenario for the institutionalisation process would be a situation in which the trilateral relationship was facilitated to specifically address these sorts of issues. In other words, a highly functioning regional institution of East Asia ought to be the very venue through which territorial disputes could be resolved reasonably (Simmons, 2002). Similarly, progress over the so-called ‘history issue’ has been either completely lacking or present only in temporary steps that do not stand the test of time, such as the 2015 statement on comfort women which clearly did not succeed in resolving this issue ‘finally and irreversibly’. In fact, there have been joint history research projects involving researchers from all three countries, but notably these have been pursued bilaterally rather than trilateral processes (and have, in any case, been quite unsuccessful at bringing about reconciliation in this area). A highly functioning regional institution would be an ideal avenue through which such a project could be channelled. Successes With the limitations of the process acknowledged, it is important to consider some of the areas in which the tripartite cooperation process has made some accomplishments. The establishment of tourism ministers’ summits is an excellent example of the tripartite cooperation process focussing on non-controversial areas in which areas of clear common interest could be facilitated. As noted above, one such meeting in 2010 outlined a target of increasing tourism between the three countries to 26 million visits annually by 2015, and this target was then affirmed at the leaders’ summit the following year. The target was actually missed as the figure for 2015 was 23.8 million, but the target was surpassed the following year when the figure was 29.2 million, representing an increase of 68 per cent in just five years (TCS, 2018b).15 This was, in part, driven by the easing of bureaucratic processes around visas between the countries. There are some obvious benefits to greater levels of intra-regional tourism in terms of enhanced economic activity within the region, as well as the more difficult to measure benefit of greater levels of people-to-people contact at a societal level. If it is correct that such interaction breeds familiarity and increases trust at a societal level (Pratt and Liu, 2015), then this could play a role in facilitating reconciliation in the region over a longer period of time. This chapter has already noted that the apparent freezes in the tripartite cooperation process between 2013–2014, 2016–2017 and 2020 onwards are only a part of the story. The continued function during periods of tension and other challenges illustrates that the institutionalisation process between the three states has succeeded to some extent. Providing avenues for political discussion, confidence building and establishing policies of mutual interest especially at times of potential conflict are precisely what a neoliberal institutional blueprint for cooperation would look like.

80  Ed Griffith It should be acknowledged that during the first nine months after the nationalisation of the Senkaku/Diaoyu islands, there were no ministerial level meetings either, so there was something of a freeze in the overall process that went beyond the leaders’ summits. Nevertheless, these meetings restarted from May 2013, and continued even after Abe’s highly controversial visit to Yasukuni Shrine later that year when he was very much persona non grata in both Seoul and Beijing, demonstrating that the depth of the tripartite cooperation process was already more resilient than a leaders’ summit that could be called off at a whim. In fact, the depth of the institutionalisation may be overlooked by many.16 As the joint statement from the most recent leaders’ summit noted, the tripartite cooperation process has ‘established 21 ministerial meetings and more than 70 dialogue mechanisms, which have combined to serve as a main platform for discussions on greater cooperation among the three countries’ (TCS, 2019). These ministerial meetings include Foreign, Finance, Economic and Trade, Tourism, Environment, Agriculture, Water Resources, Education, Culture and Transport. This multitude of avenues for dialogue across so many areas of potential and actual mutual cooperation provides the framework for an institution that has greater longevity than the frequent cancelation of the leaders’ summits might suggest. Implications for South Korea The Korean peninsula has long been considered strategically important in great power conflict and competition in the Asia Pacific region, and this has left it vulnerable with regard to the two great regional powers of China and Japan. The ­annexation, and subsequent occupation, of the Korean peninsula by Japan in the first half of the twentieth century, and particularly the brutal nature of this occupation, has left that bilateral relationship decidedly uneasy. In addition to frequent and repeated outbreaks of societal anger in South Korea about a perceived failure on the part of the Japanese to atone for the occupation, there is also the continuing territorial dispute over Dokdo, which although demonstrably under the control of South Korea remains formally claimed by Japan and on which there has been no discernible progress towards finding a resolution. South Korea has periodically had serious disputes with China over trade as well as the conflicting respective interests with regard to North Korea. All of this means that South Korea’s national interests are best served by the development of mechanisms through which its relationships with these two powers can be managed and regulated. Despite the complicated relationships that South Korea has with both China and Japan, of the three bilateral relationships in the South Korea-China-Japan triangle, it is arguably the China-Japan relationship that is the thorniest. This, combined with South Korea’s status as a middle power that poses less of a theoretical threat to either, has presented it with an opportunity to play an important role in the tripartite cooperation process and the institutionalisation of these relationships. The establishment of the TCS in Seoul is a prime example of this. It is inconceivable that China would tolerate the permanent site of tripartite cooperation to be on J­ apanese

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 81 soil and equally unimaginable that establishing it in Beijing would be agreed by Japan. Thus, South Korea became its home by default.17 South Korea clearly needs to ensure that its own role is not relegated to one of peacekeeper or mediator but providing the neutral venue for cooperation between the three does present a structural advantage that will remain, provided the institutionalisation process does not stall further. There is a risk that the slow progress in this process and the relatively low level of discernible outcomes to which we can point will lead to a further downgrading of the importance of tripartite cooperation in Korean political circles. It is clear that the process will not yield a formalised institution with the capability of seriously addressing the threat posed by North Korea to South Korea and the wider region for example, which would be one of the ideal outcomes of this entire process as identified earlier. Nevertheless, the continued interaction between ministerial level politicians and civil servants arguably can provide a space in which South Korea can continue to keep this crucial, existential question high on the regional agenda. Seoul should, therefore, continue to play the role that it can in maintaining tripartite cooperation as a process and a project, despite its limited scope and identifiable drawbacks. Conclusion This is not the place to ‘solve’ the ‘history issue’ or the territorial disputes of the region. This is not to suggest that the historical hangovers are completely and permanently intractable, or that a solution to any of the other disputes is impossible to formulate, but there are too many facets of the problems to address, and it would not be realistic to do so here. Thus, while acknowledging that historically rooted animosity between the three players combined with traditional regional rivalry has been and will remain a barrier to the deepest form of institutionalisation in the r­ egion, it is worth considering what two decades of tripartite cooperation has accomplished. What has been achieved is a more deeply rooted framework of tripartite cooperation and dialogue than is frequently presumed. We should not overplay the significance of this – the TCS is not an East Asian version of the EU, or even of ASEAN. Nevertheless, we should not overlook the importance, both potential and actual, of such a network of dialogue mechanisms. As long as actors from across the sections of each respective government are working together, developing specific policies, even at a perceived low level over issues that are not particularly controversial such as water resource management or disaster responses, relationships and trust are being developed across the political machinery of the trilateral relationship. It is clear that this cannot and will not solve some of the thorniest issues in the relationships in the foreseeable future but that is not the point. A limited and pragmatic form of liberal institutionalism in the region can be of benefit in myriad ways that improves the lives and security of the people of the region, whether through easing economic interactivity or handling transboundary environmental challenges. This is a prize that is worth the work for all involved.

82  Ed Griffith It is true that the most basic form of liberal institutionalism considers the avoidance of conflict to be a success when it comes to building international organisations. The tripartite cooperation process does appear to be achieving this minimal level of success. Its next level should be to continue building the institution, developing trust and fostering norms at all levels of government that will not only mitigate against conflict in the medium and long term but also provide a foundation on which cooperation can bring about demonstrable benefit to the lives of the people of South Korea, China and Japan. Notes 1 An analogy that is common in the classical realist tradition of IR theory. 2 An important distinction here is that the representative of China has always been the Premier, who is constitutionally the head of government, rather than the President (head of state) or Party Chairman, who is ordinarily the most powerful politician in China’s political system, whereas the Korean representative is the president, and the Japanese representative is the prime minister, both of whom hold their country’s most powerful political position. 3 ASEAN expanded from six to ten members across four years with the accession of Vietnam (1995), Laos (1997), Myanmar (1997) and Cambodia (1999). 4 EAS includes all of APT plus India, Australia, New Zealand, the US and Russia. 5 ARF includes all 18 EAS member states along with, North Korea, the EU, Canada, Papua New Guinea and Mongolia. 6 The summit was held just seven months after the devastating earthquake in China’s Sichuan province that killed more than 87,000 people. Both South Korea and Japan had sent support in its aftermath. 7 Interestingly, to date only one person has served more than one term in any role: Lee Jong-heon served two terms as Deputy and one term as Secretary General between 2013 and 2019. 8 Both South Korea and China had been critical of what they perceived as Japan’s reluctance to share information in the wake of the Fukushima leak. 9 In mainland China, the islands are commonly referred to as Diaoyu Dao which literally means ‘Fishing Island’ while in Japanese the islands are called Senkaku Shotō ordinarily translated as the ‘Pinnacle Islands’. I refer to the islands as Senkaku/Diaoyu which is the most common term used in English-language academic works. 10 It should be noted that this joint statement is not available in the TCS archive with all of the others, but a copy of it is hosted on Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs website. 11 Japan formally recognises 17 individuals. North Korea has admitted to 13 of these. 12 There were none in 2013–2014, 2016–2017 and 2020–2022. At the time of writing, it is hoped that one will take place in 2023. 13 It should be noted that Taiwan is a third party in this dispute. 14 Known as Takeshima in Japanese, Dokdo is occupied and administered by South Korea. 15 This compares favourably with an increase from the rest of the world into China, Japan and South Korea of 44 per cent over the same time period. 16 The only English-language sources that give any serious consideration to this are those by Yeo (2017a) and Sakaki and Wacker (2017), which draws heavily on Yeo’s work in order to do so. 17 It is notable that there was little public discussion about where to situate the TCS, suggesting that all three understood from the outset that the only realistic place would be South Korea.

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 83 References Angell, N. S. (1910) The Great Illusion: A Study of the Relation of Military Power in ­Nations to their Economic and Social Advantage. London: Heinemann. Casarini, N. (2014) ‘Visions of North-East Asia: China, Japan, Korea and the EU’. European Union Institute for Security Studies. http://www.jstor.com/stable/resrep06913 [accessed 18 February 2022] Deng, Y. (1997) ‘Chinese Relations with Japan: Implications for Asia-Pacific Regionalism’. Pacific Affairs. 70 (3): 373–392. Green, M. (2008) ‘Japan in Asia’ in Shambaugh, D. & Yahuda, M. (eds) International Relations of Asia. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. 170–194. Griffith, E. (2021) ‘Between a Wedge and a Hedge: South Korea’s Dilemma over China Relations’ in Lim, S. & Alsford, N. J. P. (eds) Routledge Handbook of Contemporary South Korea. 312–325 Hurst, D. (2018) ‘China-Japan-South Korea Trilateral (Finally) Meets Again’. The Diplomat. https://thediplomat.com/2018/05/china-japan-south-korea-trilateral-finally-meetsagain/[accessed 6 March 2022] Kant, I. (1991) Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch. London: Cambridge University Press. Keohane, R. O. and Martin, L. (1995) ‘The Promise of Institutionalist Theory’. International Security. 20 (1): 39–51. Keohane, R. O. and Nye, J. S. (1989) Power and Interdependence. London: Scott Foresman and Company. Kim, D. (2018) ‘More than meets the Eye: The 2018 Japan-China-South Korea Trilateral Summit’. The Diplomat. https://thediplomat.com/2018/05/more-than-meets-the-eye-the2018-japan-china-south-korea-trilateral-summit/ [accessed 6 March 2022] Kim, S. H. (2017) ‘NAPCI and Trilateral Cooperation: Prospects for South Korea-EU ­Relations’. IAI Working Papers. 17 (8): 1–13. Lam, P. (2013) ‘Japanese Politics in 2012-2013: Return of the Right?’ East Asian Policy. 2013 (5): 87–93. Mill, J. S. (1982) On Liberty. Harmondsworth, Penguin. Moravcsik, A. (2002) ‘Reassessing Legitimacy in the European Union’. Journal of Common Market Studies. 40 (4): 603–624. Intal, P., Jr. & Chen, L. (2017) ASEAN and Member States: Transformation and Integration. Economic Research Institute for ASEAN and East Asia. http://hdl.handle.net/11540/7430 [accessed 6 March 2022] Pratt, S. & Liu, A (2015) ‘Does Tourism Really Lead to Peace? A Global View’. International Journal of Tourism Research. 18 (1): 82–90. Rathus, J. (2010) ‘China-Japan-Korea Trilateral Co-operation and the East Asian ­Community’. East Asia Forum Quarterly. July–September: 8–9. Reiterer, M. (2017) ‘Supporting NAPCI and Trilateral Cooperation: Prospects for Korea-EU Relations’ IAI Working Papers. 17 (1): 1–11. Rousseau, J. J. (1968) The Social Contract. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Sakaki, A. & Wacker, G. (2017) ‘China-Japan-South Korea: A Tense Ménage à Trois’. SWP Research Paper. https://www.swp-berlin.org/publications/products/research_papers/2017 RP05_skk_wkr.pdf [accessed 6 March 2022] Simmons, B. A. (2002) ‘International Institutions and Territorial Disputes’. The Journal of Conflict Resolution. 46 (6): 829–856

84  Ed Griffith Singh, B. (2012) ‘Trilateral Northeast Asia FTA: Pragmatic Regionalism’ in Singh, B. (ed) Is Northeast Asian Regionalism the Centre of East Asian Regionalism? Singapore: Nanyang Technological University. Tanaka, A. (2008) ‘The Yasukuni Issue and Japan’s International Relations’ in Hasegawa, T. & Togo, K. (eds) East Asia’s Haunted Present: Historical Memories and the Resurgence of Nationalism. Westport: Greenwood. 119–141. Tanaka, H. (2012) ‘Politicizing the Senkaku Islands: A Danger to Regional Stability’. East Asia Insights. August 2012. https://www.jcie.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/EAI-7-3. pdf [accessed 24 March 2023] TCS (2008a) Joint Statement for Tripartite Partnership. https://www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/ documents_down.php?idx=91 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2008b) Joint Statement on the International Finance and Economy. https://www.tcsasia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=94 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2008c) Joint Message of the Special Trilateral Finance Ministers Meeting. https:// www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=101 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2009a) Joins Statement on the 10th Anniversary of Trilateral Cooperation. https:// www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=89 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2009b) Joint Statement on Sustainable Development. https://www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/ documents_down.php?idx=90 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2010a) Agreement on the Establishment of the Trilateral Cooperation Secretariat. https://www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=88 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2010b) Joint Statement of the 5th Trilateral Tourism Ministers’ Meeting among the People’s Republic of China, Japan and the Republic of Korea. https://www.tcs-asia.org/ en/data/documents_down.php?idx=192 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2011) The 4th Trilateral Summit Declaration. https://www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=80 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2012) Joint Declaration on the Enhancement of Trilateral Comprehensive Cooperative Partnership. https://www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=77 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2015) Joint Declaration for Peace and Cooperation in Northeast Asia Seoul, Republic of Korea. https://www.mofa.go.jp/a_o/rp/page1e_000058.html [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2018a) Joint Declaration of the 7th Japan-China-ROK Trilateral Summit. https://www. tcs-asia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=96 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2018b) Inbound Visitors between CJK. https://www.tcs-asia.org/en/statistics/data_ view.php?p1=24&p2=59 [accessed 6 March 2022] TCS (2019) Trilateral Vision for the Next Decade. https://www.tcs-asia.org/en/data/documents_down.php?idx=37 [accessed 6 March 2022] Terada, T. (2012) ‘Rise of Northeast Asian Economic Regionalism’ in Singh, B. (ed) Is Northeast Asian Regionalism the Centre of East Asian Regionalism? Singapore: Nanyang Technological University. Tseng, K. H. (2013) ‘The 2012 Diaoyu Islands Contretemps’. East Asian Policy. 2013 (5): 114–120. Wang, Z. (2013) ‘Perception Gaps, Identity Clashes’ in Arai, T., Goto, S., & Wang, Z. (eds) Clash of National Identities: China, Japan, and the East China Sea Territorial Dispute. Washington DC: Wilson Center. 9–18. Yeo, A. (2012) China, Japan, South Korea Trilateral Cooperation: Implications for Northeast Asian Politics and Order. Seoul: East Asia Institute. Yeo, A. (2017a) ‘China-Japan-Korea Trilateral Cooperation: Is it for Real?’ Georgetown Journal of International Affairs. 18 (2): 69–76.

Reassessing the South Korea-China-Japan Trilateral Summits 85 Yeo, A. (2017b) ‘South Korea’s Role in China-Japan-Korea Relations’ in Cha, V. D. & Drummond, M. (eds) The Korean Pivot. Washington DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies. Yeung, W. Y. (2021) ‘China’s Approach to the Institutionalization of Trilateral Economic Cooperation’. East Asia. 38: 207–223. Yoshihara, T. (2008) ‘Japan’s Emerging Strategic Posture in Asia: Heading toward Leadership or Rivalry?’ in Gupta, A. (ed) Strategic Stability in Asia. Hampshire: Ashgate. 59–86. Zimmern, A. E. S. (1936) The League of Nations and the Rule of Law 1918-1935. London: Macmillan.

5

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea in the Southern Cone (1950–1977)1 Camilo Aguirre Torrini

Introduction The 60th anniversary of the establishment of bilateral relations between the Republic of Korea (ROK or South Korea) and 15 Latin American countries took place in 2022. Accordingly, Korean Embassies in Latin America prepared several events to commemorate this occasion, as well as the publication of books and articles reviewing the relationship between South Korea and each of their host countries. Unfortunately, previous accounts on the 50th anniversary and other important diplomatic milestones have neglected or underplayed a crucial factor in explaining the trajectory of South Korea’s foreign policy towards Latin America: the diplomatic competition with the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK or North ­Korea) that occurred during the Cold War. From the 50th anniversary publications, it seems that South Korea is no longer interested in reviving the issue of inter-Korean competition and this ambivalence remains to this day, especially now that it has become a major trading partner for Latin America, a model in areas such as Digital Government and Green Growth, and its cultural contents are immensely popular with Latin American audiences. In contrast, North Korea saw its diplomats in Peru and Mexico expelled after its sixth nuclear test in 2017. Since then, North Korea has struggled to regain ground in Latin America. Nevertheless, any attempt to describe the evolution of the South Korean diplomacy towards the Latin American countries without referencing its northern counterpart would be incomplete. This chapter looks at the diplomatic competition between North and South ­Korea during the Cold War in two Latin American countries: Argentina and Chile. Situated in the southern portion of the continent, which resembles a cone, these two countries share a common history marked by their European heritage and their early integration to the global economy. While the Southern Cone countries are traditionally seen as allies of the United States (US) in the context of the Cold War, their history is marked by their troubled relationship with Washington, which makes for an interesting case study of inter-Korean competition. This chapter argues that it was this very element of tension between US hegemonic aspirations and the Southern Cone countries’ quest for an independent foreign policy vis-à-vis

DOI: 10.4324/9781003392569-5

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  87 the US what allowed North Korea to draw closer to them, even under administrations that were neither socialist nor communist. A second element that allowed North Korea to reach the Southern Cone countries was South Korea’s diplomatic passivity. As previously mentioned, South Korea established diplomatic relations with the Southern Cone countries as early as 1962. Yet, it did little to strengthen its position. This diplomatic passivity was largely based on an anachronical interpretation of the Monroe Doctrine – the idea that the region was under the sphere of influence of the US and therefore secure from external influences. Only when South Korea realised that US presence in the region was not enough to keep North Korea on the margins did it shift its approach to a more aggressive posture that sought to counter Pyongyang’s advances using all available methods. This chapter uses the pericentric approach to the study of the Cold War proposed by Smith (2000). This is, a bottom-up perspective in which the periphery is shown as the main actor fuelling, contributing to and benefiting from the international contest between world’s superpowers. It also draws on a growing literature that recognises the importance of peripheral actors during the Cold War (Brands, 2010; Westad, 2007). Within this body of literature, often referred to as the ‘New History of the Cold War’, a considerable amount has been published on the rivalry of different actors and their diplomatic competition over the Third World during the Cold War (Brazinsky, 2017; Friedman, 2015). Yet, little attention has been paid to the diplomatic rivalry between North and South Korea. Interestingly, the only work that deals extensively with inter-Korean struggle for global recognition, Barry Gills (2005)’s Korea versus Korea: A Case of Contested Legitimacy, does not come from the more recent historiographical stream, but from an international relations perspective. Thus, Gills is more concerned with the acquisition of statehood and international standing than with historical details, and his historical accounts of the interactions between both Koreas and the rest of the world are limited to the enumeration of milestones, such as the establishment of bilateral relations, embassies and voting patterns in United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) meetings. To shed light on the diplomatic competition between the two Koreas and North Korea’s relations with Latin America, this study addresses three different episodes, which refer to three specific moments in the early Cold War. First, this chapter analyses how the Southern Cone countries reacted to the Korean War, the US request for troops and the political circumstances that prevented both Argentina and Chile from sending troops to Korean soil. The chapter argues that opposition parties and civil society organisations (CSOs) had a key role in preventing the despatch of troops, undermining the efforts of the Southern Cone presidents to improve relations with the US. Second, it examines the transnational encounters between Chile and North Korea as diplomatic victories over South Korea. Events, such as the creation of a Chile-(North) Korea Culture Institute, the trip of a Chilean congressional delegation to Pyongyang and the establishment of bilateral relations between Chile and North Korea show the failure of the US and South Korean containment strategies. Third, the chapter focuses on Argentina-North Korea relations and how

88  Camilo Aguirre Torrini both countries’ ‘children’s diplomacy’, which allowed dozens of children to cross the Pacific Ocean, shaped a transcontinental relationship. Such exchanges may seem like mere anecdotes, but South Korean diplomatic documents reveal how threatening they were to Seoul’s interests in the region, particularly Latin American support at the UNGA and the ideological security of South Korean communities in Latin America. Documents on the two Koreas are scarce in the archives of the Ministries of Foreign Affairs of Chile and Argentina; hence, this study draws on declassified documents from the ROK’s Diplomatic Archive. Since one of the key tasks of South Korean diplomats was to report North Korean activities abroad, these documents are an excellent complement to the local archives. In addition, this study uses documents from the Foreign Relations of the US series and other documents made available by the Archives of Korean History and the Cold War International History Project. Apart from traditional diplomatic documents, this study also relies on newspapers and magazines from both Koreas and the Southern Cone countries to flesh out the dynamics of the period. Argentina and Chile React to the Korean War On 15 August 1945, Emperor Hirohito surrendered and the Japanese lost control over the Korean peninsula, which they had ruled as a colony since 1910. The ­Soviet Union and the US divided their occupation of the Korean along the 38th parallel, generating an artificial division of Korea. In 1948, two governments were established: the ROK to the south of the 38th parallel and the DPRK to the north of the division line. Both countries dreamed of achieving the total unification of the Korean peninsula and clashes alongside the frontier were common but failed to escalate into a total war. However, after receiving Stalin’s approval, Kim Il-sung launched a full-scale invasion of South Korea on 25 June 1950, starting one of the first conflicts of the Cold War. News of the Korean War quickly reached the Latin American countries and were followed with interest through radio broadcasts. Newspapers covered the developments by resorting to international agencies, such as Associated Press and Reuters, but the media did not limit themselves to reporting military actions. As early as 28 June 1950, the press analysed the response of Latin American governments. The Argentine newspaper El Orden reported that Latin American diplomats stationed in Washington, even those from countries who had not yet signed the Inter-American Treaty of Reciprocal Assistance (known as the Rio Treaty), which obliged the signatory states to provide aid in case of any attack against a US ship or aircraft and to take part in collective action, were informed of the US entry to the war even before President Truman made it official (El Orden, 1950). Likewise, the article warned about ‘the possibility of some opposition to any policy of solidarity with the US is accepted in certain countries such as Chile, Mexico, Guatemala and Cuba and others where there are strong communist movements’ (El Orden, 1950).2 This shows how quickly the Cold War climate reached the Americas and the different political configurations of the Latin American countries.

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  89 As mentioned earlier, much of the media interest in the Korean War gravitated to the US response, rather than the actual events on the Korean peninsula. The explanation for this is that when the Korean War broke out, Argentina and Chile were trying their best to rebuild their relations with the US, which had been affected by both nations’ attempt to remain neutral during World War II (Rinke, 2015). ­Despite their efforts, Argentina’s President Juan Domingo Perón (1946–1955) and the Chile’s President Gabriel González Videla (1946–1952) had to balance their commitment to the Korean War to please the US with their domestic politics. In Argentina, although Perón was pursuing policies to promote a self-sufficient industry and the Tercera Posición (Third Way), a rejection of both capitalism and communism, he was aware of the importance of maintaining good relations with the US. Despite his efforts, he faced a strong resistance from the opposition in his attempts to restore relations with the US by signing the Rio Treaty. It was not until the outbreak of the Korean War that Perón persuaded the congress to ratify the treaty on 19 July 1950 (Kabat, 2018: 3). In his eagerness to improve relations with the US, Perón was willing to despatch Argentine soldiers to Korean soil. However, for the opposition, agreeing on the Rio Treaty was one matter, but sending troops was another matter entirely. Thus, Perón faced vehement opposition from politicians and trade unions. T.R. Martin, US Attaché in Argentina, captured this political climate in personal communication with Thomas Clifton Mann, the Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs: Attacks upon the United States in general, upon foreign capital, upon the Rio Treaty, upon Perón’s momentary thought of sending Argentine soldiers to Korea aroused the loudest applause. Leaders of the Radical Party stated as firm principles that the Party is neutral in the present world situation. There was not a single reference to Communism or Russia in the first meeting where attacks on the United States were so bitter as to embarrass the Argentines whom I had accompanied. When one of their most prominent leaders, Frondizi, accused Perón of having obligated Argentina at Rio to send Argentine boys overseas, the applause was general and the loudest of the evening. (FRUS, 1951b) In the Chilean case, González Videla was in an even more precarious position. He was a member of the Radical Party of Chile, a centrist party that promoted ­import-substitution industrialisation, which had governed the country for two administrations through an alliance with left-wing parties. Indeed, for González ­Videla’s own presidential candidacy, the Radical Party’s alliance logic had led them to include the Communist Party of Chile (Spanish: Partido Comunista de Chile, PCCh). After González Videla’s victory, the new president appointed three Communists to his cabinet, but disputes over the appointment and pressure from the US led González Videla to enact the Permanent Defence of Democracy Act, also known as la ley maldita (the ‘damned law’), which outlawed the PCCh in 1948 (Huneeus, 2009). This concession to the US earned him the support of President Harry Truman, who in 1950 invited González Videla to the US, but earned him

90  Camilo Aguirre Torrini the hatred of his former allies. Although González Videla banned the Communist Party and forced important militants, such as the poet Pablo Neruda, into exile, this measure was not enough to demobilise it completely, as it continued to operate through student unions and trade union organisations that mounted fierce opposition to the president. The US Department of State was aware of González Videla’s difficulties, as in a memorandum to the Director of the Office of Regional American Affairs (White), dated 6 April 1951, both the Director and the Deputy Director of the Office of South American affairs stated their doubts about pressuring the Chilean Government to provide troops for Korea, citing ‘real opposition in Chile to sending Chilean troops abroad’ (FRUS, 1951c). Opposition against the Korean War in Chile was expressed through peace campaigns supported by the World Peace Council (WPC), a Communist-led organisation that advocated for universal disarmament (Wernicke, 1998). The First National Congress of Supporters of Peace in Santiago, held in Santiago between 29 September and 1 October 1950, shared the result of the signature campaign against the war in Chile, which reached 200,000 people (National Peace Committee, 1950). Moreover, General Douglas MacArthur’s specific request for ground troops that were no less than 1000 men battalion made things even more complicated for the Southern Cone countries (Chartener, 1950). The opposition in both Argentina and Chile reacted to this specific request for ground troops and exploited the idea that the US wanted the young Latin Americans as ‘cannon fodder’. So, even if the presidents of the Latin American republics were willing to pay the political price of committing to the Korean War, General MacArthur made it almost impossible for them. The only Latin American country to send troops was Colombia, but this was only possible because the country was in the midst of a civil war and this context allowed the president to approve the despatch of troops unilaterally (Meléndez Camargo, 2015: 214). Roughly three months after the outbreak of the Korean War, the UNGA resolved that ‘A Commission consisting of Australia, Chile, Netherlands, Pakistan, Philippines, Thailand, and Turkey, to be known as the UN Commission for the Unification and Rehabilitation of Korea (UNCURK), be established’ (FRUS, 1950b). UNCURK was established to represent the UN in bringing about the establishment of an independent democratic government for all Korea. The logic behind the ­selection of the member countries for UNCURK was to ensure each region was represented. However, it must be noted that socialist countries had no representation at this commission. It was clear that the criterion used was to look for countries that aligned with US interests, as the mere presence of this commission in South Korea was a source of international recognition that was detrimental to North Korea’s international standing. Because of this, both the Soviet Union and North Korea would continuously ask that this UN commission be disbanded. Brazil was the obvious choice for representing the Western Hemisphere as an UNCURK member. During World War II, Brazil quickly responded to US calls for a war declaration on the Axis Powers and joined in with military efforts. But, because Brazil’s alignment with US foreign policy was already a settled question,

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  91 the US Department of State saw an opportunity to align a more insubordinate country. Chile’s recognition of the South Korean government in 1949 and its status as founding member of the UN made Chile the perfect choice (FRUS, 1950a). A policy statement on Chile by the Department of State acknowledged the US’ ‘successful support of Chile’s efforts to secure a place on the UN Commission for the Unification and Rehabilitation of Korea’ among other actions hoping to counter Chile’s anti-American factors (FRUS, 1951a). This document also stated that the basic US objective in Chile was ‘to obtain Chile’s full and effective cooperation in our quest for freedom and international security’ and that ‘by voting our way, as it usually does, Chile contributes tangibly to the furtherance of our global foreign policy’ (FRUS, 1951a). Thus, the Korean War presented the US with an opportunity to confirm Chile’s new status as a ‘good neighbour’. To compensate for not being able to despatch troops, both Argentina and Chile contributed to the UN Korean Reconstruction Agency (UNKRA) (Edwards, 2013). According to a report by the South Korean congressional research services, ­Argentina agreed to donate 13,950 boxes of wheat, with value of half million dollars (National Assembly Library, 1965). In addition, Argentina donated 544 metric tons of canned beef (Contribution to UNKRA by Argentina, n.d.). Chile, aside from guaranteeing a steady supply of copper during the conflict, donated 5,000 tons of nitrogenous fertilisers (nitrate of soda) for the rehabilitation and reconstruction of Korea. It is worth noting that this move was a deliberate choice by the Chilean authorities, who sought to have Chilean nitrate considered for future tenders (­Contributions by Govts. Other Than US/UNKRA, n.d.). As has been discussed previously, despite not sending troops to Korea, the Southern Cone countries joined the war effort. Although the governments of both countries had hopes of improving their relationship with the US by responding to General Douglas MacArthur’s call for ground troops, opposition parties and various civil society organisations made this impossible. In the years following the Korean War, both North and South Korea had to focus on rebuilding their economies, and exchanges with Latin American countries were not resumed until the late 1950s. Chile and North Korea The North Korean presence in Chile dates to 1958, when the public affairs secretary of the Central Unica de Trabajadores (CUT), Chile’s largest trade union, Fernando Murillo Viaña came into contact with North Koreans. Four years later, a North Korean delegation was invited to attend the Third Congress of the CUT in Santiago, a move presumably orchestrated by Murillo (Rodong Sinmun, 1962a). On 13 August 1962, the North Korean delegation met Chilean politicians, trade union representatives and cultural activist to establish a Chilean branch of the Korea Friendship Association. Carlos Morales Abarzúa, a deputy of the Chilean Radical Party, was elected president of the Association, and Murillo Viaña became its secretary (Rodong Sinmun, 1962b). In Spanish, this Association was called the Instituto Chileno Coreano de Cultura (Chile-Korea Culture Institute), in line with

92  Camilo Aguirre Torrini pre-existing institutions such as the Chilean-North American Institute of Culture (1946), the Chilean-Chinese Institute of Culture (1952) and the Goethe-Institut (1952), to name a few. The rebranding of the association completely changed the way Chileans approached North Korea. First, instead of organising seminars on the Juche idea, the Institute tried to appeal to the masses by holding art exhibitions and printing books on (North) Korea. Second, and more important to the North Korean government, the name of the Institute carefully avoided words such as ‘North’ or ‘People’s Republic’: consequently North Korea became known in the media as ‘Korea’. Although modest, this can be considered as North Korea’s first victory over its rival in Chile. Afterwards, through the channels opened by Murillo and Morales, members of the Chilean Congress were invited to visit North Korea. On 13 October 1965, a delegation comprising deputies Margarita Paluz, José Manuel Isla, Carlos Morales Abarzúa (the president of the Chile-Korea Culture Institute), Ramón Silva Ulloa and Fernando Sotomayor, and Sergio Dávila Echaurren arrived at Pyongyang airport (Rodong Sinmun, 1965). This was the first official congressional visit by a Latin American republic to an Asian country and a new victory for North Korea’s diplomacy. The Chilean delegation was extremely impressed with the economic advances of North Korea, to the point that José Manuel Isla, the leader of the delegation and member of the Christian Democratic Party, put his ideological views to one side and offered to work towards establishing bilateral relations between the two countries (Isla, 1966). Notwithstanding Isla’s good faith, the establishment of formal bilateral relations between North Korea and Chile was an arduous task for the government of Eduardo Frei Montalva (1964–1970). The Christian Democratic government was caught between its desire to pursue an independent foreign policy that would allow for relations with all countries, regardless of ideological differences, and the support it received from the US through the Alliance for Progress programme. To further complicate matters, the congressional delegation also learnt that Chile was a member of a UN commission that was acting as ‘an instrument of US imperialistic aggression’. After their return to the country, the legislators began to condemn Chile’s membership in UNCURK and to lobby for its withdrawal. On 8 August 1966, and with no prior notice or consultation with the US or South Korea, the Second Secretary of the Chilean Permanent Mission to the UN, Miss Elsa Wiegold, officially communicated to the UN Secretary-General, U Thant, on Chile’s decision to withdraw from the UNCURK, claiming financial issues and lack of personnel in the ‘Far East’ (Chosun Ilbo, 1966a). Although Chile did not ­directly condemn the legitimacy of the UN Commission, it was clear to South ­Korea and US diplomats that those were merely excuses. In their view, if the ­presence of the Chilean representative in Korea was a financial burden, arrangements could have been made to prevent Chile’s withdrawal from UNCURK (ROK Diplomatic Archives, n.d.). The withdrawal of Chile from UNCURK in 1966 could have been another diplomatic victory for the DPRK. However, the Chilean statement raised the alarms

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  93 in the South Korean government, which, until this point, had taken a passive approach towards the South American republic. To address this problem, South Korea’s first task was to make the Chilean government reconsider its decision to withdraw from the UNCURK. The South Korean ambassador in Argentina, who was also the concurrent ambassador to Chile, requested the Chilean government to reconsider its decision (Kyunghyang Shinmun, 1966). At the behest of the South Korean government, the US and other allies also joined negotiations. One month later, Chile announced to the Secretary-General that it had reconsidered its decision as the UNCURK meetings were now to be held in Tokyo, where its ambassador could act as Chilean representative, alleviating the financial burden (Chosun Ilbo, 1966b). Once South Korea had successfully accomplished this first task, it took measures to secure its presence in Chile and to counter the influence of the DPRK. South ­Korea despatched a trade mission that arrived in Santiago on 10 November 1966. The South Korean delegation met with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, G ­ abriel Valdés, and with members from the textile and copper industries (Maeil Business Newspaper, 1966). The South Korean government then established an embassy in Santiago and Jin Pil-sik was accredited as ambassador on 2 December 1966. Thereafter, in a strange twist, South Korea mimicked the DPRK’s approach and sought to establish its own ‘Korea Friendship A­ssociation’. With this purpose in mind, South Korea invited Chilean congressional representatives to visit the country. During his visit to South Korea, Christian Democracy Party deputy, Enrique Zorrilla, told the press that ‘a new Chile-Korea Culture Institute will be soon established and that although the North Korean puppet regime(sic) e­ stablished one in 1962, its accomplishments were insignificant’ (Kyunghyang Shinmun, 1968a). On 15 August 1968, the Instituto Chileno Coreano de Cultura (Chile-Korea Culture Institute) was established to commemorate Korean Liberation Day. On the same day, the South Korean embassy announced its plan to support a local school, as it was common for Chilean public schools to receive sponsorship from foreign governments. In exchange, the school was renamed after their sponsor, children were taught the sponsor’s national anthem and usually had extracurricular activities on the national holidays of the sponsor. As this practice was so ingrained in Chilean society, the South Korean government chose the public school, Rafael Sanhueza Lizardi, as its beneficiary and the school’s name was changed to Republic of Korea (Kyunghyang Shinmun, 1968b). Additionally, because Chile was marginalised from Korean immigration flows towards Latin America, the South Korean government pushed forward a plan of skilled migration to Chile. Its goal was to produce and export flowers that were to be sold in the US (Kyunghyang Shinmun, 1968c). This plan was motivated by the visit to Chile of William Zappettini Jr., a representative of major shareholder in the San Francisco Flower Mart. During a conference, Zappettini Jr. pointed out that Chilean exporters had a secure market in the US, due to the similarities of the Chilean and Californian climates. Zappettini Jr.’s remarks were reported by the South Korean Ambassador to Chile and the decision to send Korean horticultural technicians was approved by the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Given these circumstances,

94  Camilo Aguirre Torrini it seemed as if South Korea countered the expansion of North Korea’s presence in Chile. Unfortunately for South Korea, the upcoming Chilean presidential election threatened to undo all its gains. Among the presidential candidates, the socialist candidate, Salvador Allende, posed a credible threat. This was not only because of his political credentials and his ideas of advancing towards socialism using the bourgeois democracy, but also because Allende never hid his position on the ­Korean question: solidarity with the struggle of Korean people against US imperialism. Just one year before the presidential election, while he was the president of the Chilean Senate, Allende visited Pyongyang and met with Kim Il-sung. During an interview following his trip to Asia, Allende mentioned that Kim ‘is not only the undisputed leader of his people, but of the 40 million Koreans living in the North and the South’ (Punto Final, 1969). From this, it was clear to South Korean and American analysts alike that one of Allende’s first measures would be the establishment of bilateral relations with socialist countries, including the People’s Republic of China (PRC or China), Vietnam and North Korea. The Chilean presidential election caught the attention of the entire world and has been described as ‘the Chilean moment in the Global Cold War’ (Hurtado-Torres, 2019), and on 4 September 1970, after a remarkably close election, Allende won with 36.63 per cent of the votes. Yet, as he failed to secure an absolute majority, it was the Senate who had the last word. This gave time for the South Korean government to analyse the situation and prevent the establishment of bilateral relations between Chile and the DPRK, or at least an opportunity to minimise its impact. To do so, the Koreans relied heavily on information obtained by the US ambassador in Chile, Edward Korry. However, Korry warned his South Korean counterpart that it was likely that, as a result of Salvador Allende’s victory, US–Chilean relations would deteriorate and that it was difficult to expect that the US could exert leverage over the new government (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1970). On 24 October 1970, the Chilean Senate ratified Salvador Allende as president of Chile. During his victory speech at the National Stadium, he sent an unequivocal message to the delegations from the socialist countries, among them a North Korean delegation: ‘I would also like to greet the delegations from countries with which we do not yet have diplomatic relations. Chile will do them justice by recognising their governments’ (Biblioteca del Congreso Nacional de Chile, 2020: 52). Allende honoured his word and promptly established relations with socialist countries. On 16 November 1970, Chile recognised the DPRK and established commercial relations. In discussing this issue, the South Korean newspaper Kyunghyang Shinmun quoted an unidentified spokesperson of the Chilean Ministry of Foreign Affairs who reassured that ‘the establishment of commercial relations with the North Korean puppet regime(sic) will not affect the bilateral relations with South Korea in any way’ (Kyunghyang Shinmun, 1970). What this spokesperson did not know was that, according to South Korea’s own interpretation of the Hallstein doctrine – Seoul was to cut ties with countries that have any official ties with Pyongyang, including trade relations. This position brought to the attention of the Chilean Ministry of Foreign

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  95 Affairs on several occasions, but the Allende government was adamant about maintaining relations with North Korea. After all, the opening of relations with socialist countries was a key campaign promise. In the end, South Korea maintained its relations with Chile and its diplomats remained in the country, informing Seoul of every movement made by their northern counterparts. Allende’s rise to power had other unexpected consequences. On 16 November 1970, the Chilean ambassador to the UN announced Chile’s withdrawal from the UN commission (NKIDP, 1970). Both South Korea and the US understood that, unlike the earlier withdrawal under the Frei government, this time the decision was irreversible. Chile’s withdrawal from the UNCURK was followed by Pakistan’s, and the withdrawal of two of the seven founding members was a fatal blow that could not be overcome by simply replacing them with other countries. Hence, it was no surprise that the US accepted China’s demand of putting an end to the ­UNCURK during the US–China rapprochement negotiations (Gills, 2005: 126). Among the declassified documents from this period, an undated minute of a meeting between Korry and the South Korean ambassador stands out. In this document, Korry argues that, although Salvador Allende was likely to establish full bilateral relations with Communist China and the DPRK, the Chilean president was more likely to wait in the hope of showing the world that he was not pursuing the rapid communisation of Chile (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1971). The US ambassador’s predictions ultimately came true. The Chilean government was in a very precarious position. It was a democracy surrounded by dictatorships and governments aligned with US interests, with Cuba as its closest ally and with the Soviet Union and China watching Chilean developments warily. Allende tried his best to find a modus vivendi with the US in a moment in which the Cold War was entering detente. Therefore, Chile made concessions to the South Korean government and the US government by keeping the exchanges between Chile and the DPRK as bilateral trade offices relations. Yet, this minor victory for South Korean diplomacy was outshined by Salvador Allende’s decision to withdraw Chile from the UNCURK. As demonstrated above, during the first half of the 1960s, Seoul neglected the gains that Pyongyang had made in Chile, partly because of South Korea’s confidence on the deterrence capabilities of the US and because Latin America was not a priority area for a young diplomatic corps on a limited budget. When South Korea finally reacted by pursuing a foreign policy that mimicked North Korea’s strategy, it seemed to have turned the tide. However, the improbable democratically election of a Marxist reversed the South’s successes. With this failure, South Korea then turned its attention to Argentina, a country with a large Korean immigrant community. Argentina and North Korea From 1966 to 1973, Argentina was ruled by three military dictatorships that were ideologically anti-communist (Romero, 2012). This explains why, compared to Chile, the exchanges between North Korea and Argentina took place entirely

96  Camilo Aguirre Torrini during the 1970s. By 1973, the military dictatorship led by Alejandro Agustín Lanusse faced a strong resistance from the people and had no option but to push for a democratic transition with the participation of Perón’s supporters. Lanusse’s only condition was that Perón himself could not become a presidential candidate. Héctor J. Cámpora, the Peronist candidate, won the presidential elections on 11 March 1973. Shortly afterwards, and in continuity with Perón’s Tercera Posición, but also as a clear sign of openness towards the Third World, a delegation led by Perón’s wife María Estela Martínez (Isabel) travelled to Beijing and Pyongyang between 8 and 18 May. Isabel spent two days in North Korea and met with Kim Il-sung twice. In a gesture of diplomatic tact, Kim Il-sung’s wife, Kim Song-ae, joined the reception of the Argentine delegation and her presence was highlighted by the state media as an atypical for Latin American visits to Pyongyang (Rodong Sinmun, 1973a). Allegedly, the Argentine delegation returned to the country with invitations for Perón from both Mao and Kim Il-sung (El Descamisado, 1973). But even more important, Isabel’s visit to Pyongyang laid the groundwork for the establishment of bilateral relations between Argentina and the DPRK. On 25 May 1973, Cámpora was sworn in as President of Argentina. During the ceremony, he delivered a speech in which he expressed his ‘firm determination to maintain close relations with all the countries of the world, without exclusion or interference’ (Cámpora, 1973). On 1 June 1973, a North Korean delegation comprising Vice Foreign Minister Kim Ryong-taek and Foreign Affairs Department Director Mung Song-guk arrived in Buenos Aires and joined Vice President Kang Ryang-uk, who had been in the country since the ceremony of Cámpora’s inauguration to the presidency. The North Korean delegation issued an official communiqué upon his arrival in the country, highlighting the common ground between the two countries: The Korean people and the Argentine people are geographically far apart, but they are closely linked by the bond of friendship because of the shared characteristics of the past situations in which we were oppressed and humiliated, of today’s struggle against imperialism and colonialism, and of the country’s independent development (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1973). The South Korean Embassy in Buenos Aires reported that although North Korea and Argentina had already agreed to establish bilateral relations, they had not yet issued a joint statement. South Korean diplomats attempted to delay this through an unidentified high-ranking military officer. But despite these efforts, the representatives of Argentina and North Korea eventually signed a joint declaration that formalised bilateral relations at ambassadorial level (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1973). Commenting on this, the Foreign Minister of Argentina, Juan Carlos Puig, stated it was ‘a sign of the foreign policy that the new government was implementing’ (Paz Iriberri, 2001: 33). On 20 June 1973, Perón returned from his exile in Spain and Cámpora resigned to allow new elections in which Perón could run as a candidate. Unsurprisingly, on 23 September 1973, Perón was elected the new president of Argentina. Following the

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  97 establishment of bilateral relations, North Korea opened a representation in Buenos Aires, and although Argentina declared its intentions of establishing an embassy in Pyongyang, this never materialised. In late 1973, a trade mission headed by Kim Seok-jin arrived at Buenos Aires and the two countries signed a Trade Agreement that envisaged the purchase of 500,000 tonnes of maize and 300,000–500,000 tonnes of wheat by North Korea (Paz Iriberri, 2001: 35). Perón ruled the country until his death on 1 July 1974, when he was succeeded by his wife, María Estela Martínez (Isabel). It was Isabel who further boosted ties with North Korea, as both countries exchanged delegations in which children stole the spotlight. The so-called children’s diplomacy started on 2 August 1974, when a group of 34 children (or 36, as sources are inconsistent) from the Manuel Sola School joined Isabel on her trip to North Korea. The group arrived on 6 August 1974 and stayed in the country for 20 days. On their arrival, the Argentinians were greeted by 5,000 Korean children who were waiting for them at Pyongyang airport and received red scarfs. On 19 August, Kim Il-sung met the Argentine delegation and welcomed them with the following words: ‘Between the Argentine Republic and our country, a rainbow bridge has been built, which will be crossed by our generation and also by the generations to come’ (Las Bases, 1974). The Argentine delegation visited Kim Il-sung’s birthplace, Mangyongdae, watched the revolutionary opera ‘Sea of Blood’ at the People’s Palace of C ­ ulture and visited Panmunjom. Moving away from the more traditional schedules and ­showing the passion for football that is characteristic of Latin Americans, the ­Argentine delegation asked their hosts if they wanted a kickabout near the ­Hotel. To their surprise, the North Koreans not only accepted but arranged a football match at the National Stadium that had 90,000 spectators and was broadcast d­ omestically (Las Bases, 1974). To put this in perspective, the attendance at the 1974 FIFA World Cup Final, the most important football event of all, was 75,200. During their visit to North Korea, the Argentine delegation invited North Korean children to visit their country. The visit of 78 North Korean children to Argentina materialised on 3 May 1975 and lasted for almost 20 days. Their presence in the country was covered by the press and their choreographic and musical show at the Olivos residence to honour Isabel was broadcast and shown on TV (Sucesos Argentinos, 1975). But despite the positive response of the public to the North Korean visit, it was not without its critics. The South Korean embassy in Argentina reported this by translating an editorial published in the newspaper La Nación on 21 May, in which the newspaper questioned the relevance of this visit and signalled it as a contradiction, considering the anti-Communist stance that the ­Peronist ­government was pursuing at the time (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1975). The South Korean Embassy in Buenos Aires did not remain indifferent to these developments, especially considering that the (South) Korean community in ­Argentina is one of the oldest and largest in Latin America. Between 1970 and 1978, approximately 500 families arrived in the country to settle in rural areas, but as most of the migrants were not trained for agricultural work, they moved to urban areas to engage in commercial activities (Mera, 2009). In an official communication to the ROK Ministry of Foreign Affairs dated 13 June 1975, the South Korean

98  Camilo Aguirre Torrini ambassador in Buenos Aires warned about the psychological effects that the media coverage of the North Korean delegation could have on Korean immigrants living in Argentina (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1975). According to a testimony published in the Korean immigrant community magazine Cheongnyeonui Sori (Voices of Youth), Korean parents struggled to explain to their children why the North Koreans, being ‘evil communists’, were applauded by the Argentine authorities (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1975). In light of this, the South Korean embassy in Buenos Aires planned to respond to the North Korean challenge displaying its own soft power. South Korean diplomats suggested to the ROK Ministry of Foreign Affairs the implementation of a scholarship program for Korean immigrants and a visit by the Little Angels Children’s Folk Ballet of Korea (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1975). Unlike the case of Chile–North Korea relations, in which people’s diplomacy was the driving force, the exchanges between Argentina and North Korea were promoted by the Peronist government as part of their foreign policy of openness to the Third World. Massive delegation exchanges with children playing key roles were the main feature of this bilateral relationship, perhaps a sign of the synchrony between North Korea’s personality cult and Argentina’s own populist tendencies. South Korea followed these events closely and was ready to respond with a display of its own cultural diplomacy, but the imminent rise of military dictatorships in Latin America eventually turned the tables in Seoul’s favour. Conclusion This chapter sets out to examine inter-Korean diplomatic competition from a pericentric point of view, analysing the relations of the two Koreas with the countries of the Southern Cone. One of the most significant conclusions to emerge from this study is that South Korean diplomacy was shaped in response to North K ­ orean advances, which were made possible by the Southern Cone countries’ pursuit of foreign policy autonomy. This shows a degree of interconnectedness between inter-Korean competition and tensions in a Western hemisphere that was far from perfectly aligned with Washington’s foreign policy. Moreover, by reconstructing inter-Korean competition in the Southern Cone, this historical research adds to the decentring of the Cold War by rescuing the agency of peripheral countries; contributes to recent efforts to internationalise the Cold War in Latin America and broadens the scope of North Korea’s relations with the Third World to two countries located in the Western hemisphere. In analysing the reaction of Chile and Argentina to the Korean War, this research has also highlighted the problems faced by the leaders of the Southern Cone countries in balancing commitment to US foreign policy and domestic demands. Although both countries contributed material aid to the Korean Peninsula, the US government’s request for troops could not be met, as other parties and civil society organisations mounted fierce opposition. After the Korean War, although the Southern Cone countries established bilateral relations with South Korea in 1962, Pyongyang was still able to reach out to them through unconventional channels,

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  99 refuting the notion that the mere presence of the US in the region was enough to keep North Korea out. In the case of Chile, South Korea did not react to those exchanges until 1966, but by then it was too late, as even a non-socialist administration, the Chilean Christian Democratic Party, seemed to welcome the establishment of bilateral relations with North Korea. Despite South Korea’s attempts to undermine North Korea’s ‘people’s diplomacy’, which had some success, Pyongyang’s efforts led to the establishment of bilateral relations with Chile in 1970 and Argentina in 1973, as North Korea capitalised on Salvador Allende’s victory in Chile and the rise of a new Peronist government in Argentina. Fortunately for South Korea, the establishment of military dictatorships in both countries nullified any gains made by the North and ushered in a new era in which South Korea would strengthen its relations with the Southern Cone countries. This chapter closes with a summary of North Korea’s withdrawal from Chile and Argentina. On 11 September 1973, the Chilean Military, led by General Augusto Pinochet, seized power and Allende committed suicide rather than being forced to resign, ending the ‘one thousand days of Chilean revolution’. In response to these events, Fernando Murillo Viaña, head of the Chilean trade mission in Pyongyang since December 1972, called a press conference on 15 September 1973. During the press conference, he delivered a speech in which he condemned the ‘massacre committed by the fascists’ and the intervention of the CIA: You know that I recently returned from Chile. I was there three times with President Allende, the last time on 30 August. His great concern was to normalise relations with this part of the world. He wanted me to visit Vietnam and other countries to explain our difficulties, why we were not opening missions in those countries…. He told me he would appoint me Ambassador to the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea…. All that is now behind us. I have invited you to inform you that from today this Embassy is not the Embassy of the Military Junta. I have cabled the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to tell them I am disgusted to work for an illegal and murderous government. From today, this is the Embassy of the struggling people of Chile. I have received a mandate from the Popular Unity to represent it in this country and others. I am no longer a diplomat. I represent the people of Chile in struggle. To be thrown out of the homeland, 30,000 kilometres away, is a serious thing, but it is not important when you must defend the morale and the honour of the Revolution or can continue to serve a government of criminals. We Chileans are incredibly grateful for the international solidarity. Almost all countries, capitalist, and non-capitalist, and all the progressive forces of the world are supporting us. I have to say that all the socialist countries, not even one missing, have extended their hand to me. And I would especially like to thank the Korean Government and the Workers’ Party of Korea, who have extended their hand and hospitality to me. I am surrounded by the affection and hospitality of my Korean brothers and sisters, and I am enormously proud of them. (Pérez Haristoy, 2019: 268)

100  Camilo Aguirre Torrini The North Korean government expressed solidarity with the Chilean left and publicly condemned the coup in the pages of their newspapers, focusing on the intervention of the ‘US Imperalists’ (Rodong Sinmun, 1973b). This behaviour was in contrast with the attitudes of the Soviet Union and the PRC. While the former was cautious, Leonid Brezhnev condemned the Chilean military coup on 17 September, the latter even recognised the new government (Ampuero Ruiz, 2016; Uliánova, 2000). It is plausible to assume that, by publicly condemning the Chilean coup, North Korea hoped to place itself at the forefront of global revolutionary forces. On the Chilean side, one of the first measures adopted by the Military Junta was the termination of relations with socialist countries. Act No 2, item 13 of the Governing Junta establishes ‘(the) necessity to sever relations with North Korea immediately…’ (Cristi, 1998: 216). On 17 September, the North Korean Embassy in Chile sent two documents to the Chilean Ministry of Foreign Relations. The first document condemned the raid on the ambassador’s residence by 20 police officers. According to the North Korean account, the police threatened the diplomats and their families with rifles and stole their belongings. The second document contained a list of the embassy staff and their families for their evacuation from the country (PRK1, 1973a, 1973b). Since then, and although Chile maintains diplomatic and commercial relations with North Korea, Pyongyang has no official representatives stationed in Chile. In Argentina, on 24 March 1976, the Military orchestrated a coup against Isabel and established a Military Junta (also known as The Process) led by General Jorge Rafael Videla. Unlike in Chile, North Korea did not break relations with the new government and remained in Argentina despite the country’s shift to the right and the military’s anti-communist tradition. This turned the North Koreans into unwanted guests. The Process was suspicious about the North Korean representation because of its connections with various sectors of the Argentine left and with the guerrilla movements. The dictatorship implemented several restrictions on the North Korean mission, with the North Korean Embassy formally complaining about this to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. A letter, dated on 5 June 1977, criticised the way the Argentinians who visited the Embassy were threatened and claimed that the police and military security focused more on controlling the movements of the North ­Korean diplomats than in keeping them safe (ROK Diplomatic Archives, 1977). The point of no return was reached on 11 May 1977, when a fire broke out in the North Korean embassy building. The fire started in a film library located in a projection room, which produced a smell of celluloid and a large amount of smoke (Paz Iriberri, 2001: 37). While North Korea argued that it was a plot against them by the military government, the Australian newspaper Canberra Times reported that the Argentine authorities discovered that the fire had been arson and sought to destroy evidence of the links between the DPRK and the guerrilla movements in Argentina (Cranston, 1977). Though the real cause and/or motivation for the fire remains a mystery to this day, North Korean diplomats subsequently left Argentina on 5 June 1977, without prior notice. This ‘unfriendly gesture’ gave General Videla the perfect excuse to sever relations with North Korea, which finally put an end to the formal presence of North Korean diplomats in the Southern Cone.

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  101 Notes 1 This research was performed by the support of Academy of Korean Studies in year 2021. 2 All translations from Korean and Spanish are provided by the author.

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102  Camilo Aguirre Torrini Friedman, Jeremy Scott (2015) Shadow Cold War: The Sino-Soviet Competition for the Third World. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. FRUS (1950a) Minutes of the Thirteenth Meeting of the United States Delegation to the United Nations General Assembly. 4 October 1950, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1950, Korea, Volume VII, eds. John P. Glennon and S. Everett Gleason (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1976), Document 604. Available at https://history.state. gov/historicaldocuments/frus1950v07/d604. FRUS (1950b) Resolution 376 (V), Adopted by the United Nations General Assembly. 7 October 1950, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1950, Korea, Volume VII, eds. John P. Glennon and S. Everett Gleason (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1976), Document 640. Available at https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/ frus1950v07/d640 FRUS (1951a) Policy Statement Prepared in the Department of State. 27 February 1951, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1951, The United Nations; The Western Hemisphere, Volume II, eds. Ralph R. Goodwin, N. Stephen Kane and Harriet D. Schwar (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1979), Document 729. Available at https:// history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1951v02/d729. FRUS (1951b) The Attaché in Argentina (Martin) to the Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs (Mann). 21 March 1951, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1951, The United Nations; The Western Hemisphere, Volume II, eds. Ralph R. Goodwin, N. Stephen Kane and Harriet D. Schwar (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1979), Document 671. Available at https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/ frus1951v02/d671 FRUS (1951c) Memorandum of Conversation, by Mr. Milton Barall of the Office of South American Affairs. 7 April 1951, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1951, The United Nations; The Western Hemisphere, Volume II, eds. Ralph R. Goodwin, N. Stephen Kane and Harriet D. Schwar (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1979), Document 735. Available at https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/ frus1951v02/d735. Gills, Barry (2005) Korea versus Korea: A Case of Contested Legitimacy. New York: Routledge. Huneeus, Carlos (2009) The Chilean Cold War: Gabriel González Videla and the Damned Law. Santiago: Penguin Random House Grupo Editorial Chile. [La Guerra Fría Chilena: Gabriel González Videla y la Ley Maldita]. Hurtado-Torres, Sebastian (2019) ‘The Chilean Moment in the Global Cold War: International Reactions to Salvador Allende’s Victory in the Presidential Election of 1970’. ­Journal of Cold War Studies, 21(3), pp. 26–55. doi: 10.1162/jcws_a_00892. Isla, José Manuel (1966) Visit of a Chilean Parliamentary Delegation to the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. Available at Biblioteca del Congreso Nacional de Chile. https://www.bcn.cl/laborparlamentaria/wsgi/consulta/verParticipacion.py?idParti cipacion=936710. Kabat, Marina (2018) ‘Peronism and its opposition in the face of the Korean War’. X Jornadas de Sociología de la UNLP, 2018. Ensenada, Argentina, 5-7. Universidad Nacional de La Plata. Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias de la Educación. Departamento de Sociología [El Peronismo y la Oposición ante la Guerra de Corea]. Available at http://sedici. unlp.edu.ar/handle/10915/80052. Kyunghyang Shinmun (1966) ‘Chilean Government reconsidered its decision to withdraw from UNCURK’, Kyunghyang Shinmun, 19 August 1966 [경향신문(1966). 언커크撤收

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  103 飜意를 交涉 칠레政府에. 경향신문. 1966년 8월 19일자]. Available at https://newslibrary.naver.com Accessed date: 2 May 2021. Kyunghyang Shinmun (1968a) “Korea is Chile in the East”, Kyunghyang Shinmun, 30 May 1968 [경향신문 (1968a). 韓國은 東方의 칠레. 경향신문. 1968년 5월 30일자]. Available at https://newslibrary.naver.com Accessed date: 1 May 2021. Kyunghyang Shinmun (1968b) ‘Chilean public school named Republic of Korea’, ­Kyunghyang Shinmun, 28 August 1968 [경향신문 (1968). 韓國과結緣한 칠레國民學 校 그이름「大韓民國」, 경향신문, 1968년 8월 28일자]. Available at https://newslibrary. naver.com Accessed date: 1 May 2021. Kyunghyang Shinmun (1968c) ‘Three flower-growing families will be sent to Chile in December’, Kyunghyang Shinmun, 4 November 1968 [경향신문 (1968c). 칠레에 꽃재배이민12월에 3가구 뽑아 보내기로, 경향신문, 1968년 11월 4일자]. Available at https://­newslibrary.naver.com Accessed date: 1 May 2021. Kyunghyang Shinmun (1970) ‘Chile’s trade with North Korea “does not affect diplomatic relations with South Korea” ‘, Kyunghyang Shinmun, 17 November 1970 [경향신문 (1970). 칠레,北傀와 通商 “對韓外交관계엔 영향 없어, 경향신문, 1970년 11월 17일 자]. Available at https://newslibrary.naver.com Accessed date: 1 May 2021. Las Bases (1974) ‘The Ambassadors in Trouser Shorts’, Las Bases, 10 September 1974, p. 30 [Los Embajadores de Pantalones Cortos]. I thank Professor Dante Anderson for sharing this document with me. Maeil Business Newspaper (1966) ‘Korean trade mission arrives in Santiago’, Maeil Business Newspaper. 10 November 1966 [매일경제 1966산티아고到着 韓国貿易使 節団. 매일경제. 1966년 11월 10일자]. Available at https://newslibrary.naver.com Accessed date: 30 April 2021. Meléndez Camargo, Juan David (2015) ‘Colombia and its participation in the Korean War: A reflection after 64 years of the outbreak of the conflict’. Historia y Memoria, 10, pp. 199–239. doi: 10.19053/20275137.3205. [Colombia y su participación en la Guerra de Corea: Una reflexión tras 64 años de iniciado el conflicto]. Mera, Carolina (2009) The Korean Diaspora in Latin America, in Transiciones Coreanas. Permanencia y Cambio en Corea del Sur en el Inicio del Siglo XXI, ed. JJR Bonilla (­Mexico D.F.: El Colegio de México), pp. 303–334. doi: 10.2307/j.ctv3dnpz5.16 [La Diáspora Coreana en América Latina]. National Assembly Library (1965) Report N° 34: UNCURK, 1951-1953. Seoul: National Assembly Library, 1965. [국회도서관 (1965). 제34호 국제연합한국통일부흥위원단 보 고서, 1951-53]. National Peace Committee (1950) First National Congress of the Supporters of Peace, 29 September 1950–1 October 1950 [Comité Nacional de los Partidarios de la Paz (1950) Primer Congreso Nacional de los Partidarios de la Paz]. Available at ­Biblioteca del Congreso de Chile. https://obtienearchivo.bcn.cl/obtienearchivo?id=documentos/ 10221.1/66126/1/212324.pdf&origen=BDigital. NKIDP (1970) Letter, Chilean Ambassador Jose Pinera, Concerning Chile’s Withdrawal from UNCURK, November 16, 1970, History and Public Policy Program Digital­ Archive, “International incidents and disputes – Korea – correspondence (603.1),” ­Executive ­Office of the Secretary-General, S-0196-0003-02, United Nations Archives and Records Management Section (UN ARMS), New York, NY. Obtained for NKIDP by Charles Kraus. https://digitalarchive.wilsoncenter.org/document/117380. Paz Iriberri, Gonzalo (2001) ‘Relations between Argentina and South Korea: Developments and prospects’. Estudios Internacionales, 34(134), pp. 29–56. [Las relaciones entre ­Argentina y Corea del Sur: evolución y perspectivas].

104  Camilo Aguirre Torrini Pérez Haristoy, Ricardo (ed.) (2019) Chile in the Archives of the Cuban Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 1960-1974. Santiago de Chile: Ediciones Biblioteca Nacional de Chile. [Chile en los archivos del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores de Cuba. 1960-1974]. PRK1 (1973a) North Korea, Doc. N°346, 1973, The Archive of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Republic of Chile. PRK1 (1973b) North Korea, Doc. N°347, 1973, The Archive of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Republic of Chile. Punto Final (1969) Allende habla de Corea, Vietnam y Cuba, Punto Final, 29 July 1969 [Allende talks about Korea, Vietnam, and Cuba]. Rinke, Stefan H. (2015) Latin America and the United States: A history between spaces from colonial times to the present day. México, D.F.: Marcial Pons Historia. [América Latina y Estados Unidos: una historia entre espacios desde la época colonial hasta hoy]. Rodong Sinmun (1962a) ‘The delegation of the Korean General Federation of Trade Unions to the 3rd Congress of the Workers’ United Centre of Chile will leave Pyongyang’, Rodong Sinmun, 21 July 1962. [로동신문 (1962a). 칠리 로동자통일 중앙 제3차 대회에 참가할 우리 나라 직맹 대표단 평양 출발, 로동신문, 1962년 7월 21일자]. Rodong Sinmun (1962b) ‘Establishment of a Chile-Korea Culture Institute in Santiago’. Rodong Sinmun. 17 August 1962 [로동신문 (1962a). 산챠고에서 칠리-조선 문화 협정 창설, 로동신문, 1962년 8월 17일자]. Rodong Sinmun (1965) ‘Chilean National Assembly Delegation Arrives in Pyongyang’, Rodong Sinmun, 14 October 1965 [로동신문 (1965). 칠레 공화국 국회 대표단 평양에 도착, 로동신문, 1965년 10월 14일자]. Rodong Sinmun (1973a) The beloved leader, Comrade Kim Il Sung and his wife, Comrade Kim Song-ae, served a luncheon for the Argentine National Justicialist Movement delegation. Rodong Sinmun, 16 May 1973 [로동신문 (1973a). 경애하는 수령 김일성동지와 부인 김성애동지께서 아르헨티나전국정의운동대표단을 위하여 오찬을 배푸시였다, 로동신문, 1973년 5월 16일자]. Rodong Sinmun (1973b) ‘We condemn the US-manufactured reactionary military coup in Chile’, Rodong Sinmun, 15 September 1973. [로동신문 (1973b). 칠레에서 반동적군사 정변을 조작한 미제를 규탄한다, 로동신문, 1973년 9월 15일자]. ROK Diplomatic Archives (1970) North Korea-Chile Relations, DVD, D-0008(3571) [대한민국 외교사료관 (1973). 북한 • 칠레 관계, DVD, D-0008(3571)]. ROK Diplomatic Archives (1971) North Korea-Chile Relations, DVD, D-0009(4249) [대한민국 외교사료관 (1973). 북한 • 칠레 관계, DVD, D-0009(4249)]. ROK Diplomatic Archives (1973) North Korea-Argentina Relations, DVD, D-0013(5966) [대한민국 외교사료관 (1973). 북한 • 아르헨티나 관계, DVD, D-0013(5966)]. ROK Diplomatic Archives (1975) North Korea-Argentina Relations, DVD, D-0019-02(8180) [대한민국 외교사료관 (1973). 북한 • 아르헨티나 관계, DVD, D-0019-02(8180)]. ROK Diplomatic Archives (1977) North Korea-Argentina Relations, DVD, 2007-22(10492) [대한민국 외교사료관 (1973). 북한 • 아르헨티나 관계, DVD, 2007-22(10492)]. ROK Diplomatic Archives (n.d.). The question of the withdrawal of UNCURK members. DVD, H-0008(1892) [UNCURK 회원국 사퇴문제. DVD, H-0008(1892)]. Romero, Luis Alberto (2012) Brief Contemporary History of Argentina 1916-2010. México, D.F.: Fondo de Cultura Económica. [Breve Historia Contemporánea de la Argentina 1916-2010]. Smith, Tony (2000) ‘New Bottles for New Wine: A Pericentric Framework for the Study of the Cold War’. Diplomatic History, 24(4), pp. 567–591. doi: 10.1111/0145-2096.00237. Sucesos Argentinos (ca. 1975), Isabel Perón y López Rega reciben niños coreanos, Sucesos Argentinos N° 1000, Video (AV-2967), Archivo Histórico Radio y

Diplomatic Competition between North and South Korea  105 Televisión Argentina. Available at https://www.archivorta.com.ar/asset/sucesosargentinos-isabelita-y-lopez-rega-reciben-ballet-de-ninos-coreanos-circa-1975. Uliánova, Olga (2000) ‘Soviet Perceptions and Analyses of the Unidad Popular Government and the Military Coup in Chile’. Estudios Públicos, 79, pp. 83–171. Wernicke, Günter (1998) ‘The Communist-Led World Peace Council and the Western Peace Movements: The Fetters of Bipolarity and Some Attempts to Break Them in the Fifties and Early Sixties’. Peace & Change, 23(3), pp. 265–311. doi: 10.1111/0149-0508.00087. Westad, Odd Arne (2007) The Global Cold War: Third World Interventions and the Making of Our Times. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press.

6

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense Explaining Shifts in North Korea’s Construction of a South Korean Threat in State Media Benedikt Christoph Staar

Introduction The COVID-19 pandemic has reinforced forecasts of a possible early demise of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) (Cha, 2021). Still, North Korea has not collapsed. Common explanations for the longevity of North Korea are that the government suppresses any opposition through force and nurtures an economic, military, and political elite that upholds the central government. Beside these factors, however, the discourse in North Korea itself – governmental statements, newspaper articles, media activities, political speeches – also plays a role in supporting North Korea’s system. What is often referred to as propaganda is a tool for indirectly strengthening North Korea’s political stability. An emerging body of literature approaches propaganda itself as meaningful because even autocratic governments need to legitimise their politics if they want to survive (Boussalis et al., 2022). Through propaganda, a government tries to convince its citizens that it enacts certain policies because it is the right thing to do. This way, propaganda is an instrument to garner legitimacy, which in turn strengthens political stability (Gerschewski, 2013). Foreign relations and outside threats are a central part of how North Korea legitimises its policies. Being threatened is integrated into North Korean identity and used to justify political decisions, such as the struggle to develop nuclear weapons as defence against the United States (US) (Ballbach, 2015). For the North Korean leadership, specific actors fulfil different ideological roles, such as the US serving the role of a foreign military and ideological threat. Other actors, such as Japan, could also take the role of a foreign aggressor, considering that threats in domestic discourses are socially constructed – in this case by North Korea’s government (Staar, 2021: 96). Compared to other foreign actors, the Republic of Korea (South Korea)’s relationship with North Korea is unique. The North can draw on a shared Korean history, identity, and a potential unification when talking about the ­Korean Peninsula but given the ongoing state of war between the two nations and the ­US-South Korean military alliance, South Korea is foremost perceived as an existential threat. While this explains common depictions of South Korea,1 it does not account for numerous occasions where North Korean portrayals of South Korea are DOI: 10.4324/9781003392569-6

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense 107 much less negative.2 It is puzzling that North Korea’s government depicts South Korea as a potential partner when a central supporting pillar of the government’s ideology is a South Korean threat. To solve this puzzle, this chapter poses the following research question: how do changing relations with South Korea influence North Korean securitisation in connection with South Korea? The chapter aims to answer this question by arguing that North Korea’s portrayal of South Korea is more varied than generally assumed. While some South Korean actors are portrayed as persistent threats, others are portrayed as supportive of North Korea, and the portrayal of yet other actors differs depending on the political context. The variances of the only superficially simple relationship between North and South Korea can be illuminated by conducting an analysis of North Korea’s securitisation in connection with South Korea in the most important propaganda channel, the Rodong Sinmun. By identifying the underlying motivations of North Korea’s South Korea portrayal over the past 20 years, we can understand how long-term ideological legitimisation strategies and short- to middle-term policy goals need to be considered when judging the importance of legitimation in North Korea. In drawing on scholarly discourses about securitisation, autocratic legitimation, and North Korea, this chapter proposes a novel framework to investigate the relation between the social construction of threat and legitimation in an autocracy. Understanding how threats are created in North Korea is not only useful for understanding why North Korean diplomats can(not) talk about certain issues, but also for understanding why the North Korean government can(not) ‘sell’ its public certain policies. If the understanding of the US as an enemy is essential for legitimising the nuclear weapons programme and the regime, the North Korean government cannot suddenly declare that a treaty for complete denuclearisation with the enemy has been made, as the government in Pyongyang would risk a loss in credibility which would potentially destabilise the government. Understanding this can be helpful for strengthening diplomatic engagement with North Korea, as it makes clear that some goals, such as a complete denuclearisation, are currently unattainable because the North Korean government risks its political stability if it were to accept them, not because the North Korean regime refuses to consider them. Theory and Methodology Autocracies need legitimacy to maintain their long-term survival and political stability, as they cannot survive solely on repression or a supporting elite. ­Legitimation, which is the process through which autocratic governments gain legitimacy,3 is a substantial factor for ensuring the political stability of an autocracy (Gerschewski, 2013). A tool for legitimation is propaganda, which states use to declare intentions and explain their actions. North Korea’s government uses official publications, newspapers, speeches, and similar measures – also often referred to as propaganda – to explain its actions to the citizens and legitimise its actions. Situated in this ‘propaganda as legitimation’ (Boussalis et al., 2022: 3) approach, the present study focuses on the unique role of South Korea in connection with security issues. Previous studies deal with the question of how security issues like

108  Benedikt Christoph Staar nuclear weapons are legitimised by the North Korean government (for example, Ballbach, 2015; Howell, 2020) or how nuclear weapons themselves legitimise the North ­Korean leadership (for example, Kim, 2020; Allal, 2017). Instead of this focus on singular issues, this study argues that a step backwards is helpful to understand the underlying logic of North Korea’s legitimation politics. For this reason, this study analyses the official state discourse in North Korea that deals with the social construction of security issues and legitimation in connection with South Korea, or in other words, securitisation discourses in connection with South Korea. Whereas ‘[p]olitical legitimacy is elusive … political legitimation is discernible’ (Abulof, 2013: 74–75). Still, there are many ways to legitimise politics, such as through emphasising one’s superior ideology or economic performance. The present article adopts a system where autocratic governments’ legitimation claims are categorised thusly: foundational myth, ideology, personalism, procedures, performance, international engagement (Soest and Grauvogel, 2017: 289–291). The claims of actors who emphasise their own importance for the successful founding process of the existing state (for example, through their participation in a war of independence) and draw domestic legitimacy through them are classified as foundational myth. Ideology denotes claims that focus on the normative superiority of specific political or religious beliefs. Personalism denotes claims that focus on the ruler, that is, his personal excellence, wisdom, leadership, or historical experiences that qualify him or her for leading the nation. Procedures refers to claims that emphasise governmental proceedings being done in a legalistic and formalised way, as opposed to arbitrary displays of power. Performance denotes claims that address how actors succeed in producing material goods as well as immaterial progress such as technological advancements or education. Finally, international engagement means that actors claim legitimacy based on being recognised by other states, by diplomatically engaging with them, but also by demonstrating their conviction to fight them if necessary. To understand the portrayal of South Korea, this study looks at how these categories appear in North Korean media. However, South Korea is connected to many aspects of North Korea’s international politics, economy, and history, and not every claim carries the same weight. The study argues that an analysis of security in connection with South Korea-related legitimacy claims is suited best for categorising the many routes used by North Korea’s government to claim legitimacy, because it allows for identifying shifts in the government’s perception of the most relevant political topics. States generally equate relevancy and urgency of political issues with security (Buzan et al., 1998) and particularly North Korea adheres to a political logic that is strongly interwoven with themes of existential threat and survival (Kwon and Chung, 2012). Therefore, this study assumes that what is important will be presented in security terms. To avoid imposing an outside definition of what counts as a security term for North Korea, the study applies a securitisation approach to identify relevant texts. Securitisation revolves around the question of how something becomes connected to the idea of security.4 It challenges traditional and non-traditional security conceptions by arguing that nothing is inherently related to security but becomes a

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense 109 security issue in a process of social construction. Security is self-referential, meaning that something can become security-relevant when actors say that something is security-relevant in that it is an existential threat (Buzan et al., 1998: 24–25). Furthermore, security comes into existence in an intersubjective process. This means that security ultimately originates from the communication between an actor and an audience that accepts or rejects the attempt at declaring an issue to be about security, not a single actor (Buzan et al., 1998: 25). The principal actor who makes the claim that something is threatened is termed the securitising actor. The thing that ‘is deemed threatened and holds a general claim on having to survive, for example, the state, the environment’ (Waever, 2008: 582) is called the referent object. If the audience accepts the attempt at making the issue into a security issue (the attempt is a speech act that is also called a securitisation/securitising move), that issue becomes imbued with security. This study adopts an understanding of securitisation theory that is centred on speech acts and illocutionary logic (Vuori, 2008 & 2011; Staar, 2021) because speech act-oriented securitisation analyses allow for theory-guided engagement with sources independent from the deliberate restriction of access to texts or people. This approach stipulates that securitisation is a complex speech act which is made up of smaller elementary speech acts (Vuori, 2008: 74–75). Whereas securitisation theory originally assumes that securitisation is performed for the legitimation of extraordinary measures and the breaking of rules, the study follows the understanding that securitisation can be used for several purposes besides this (Vuori, 2008: 69). Securitisation can be differentiated along specific strands of securitisation, each denoting a different way of how securitisation is used, depending on what elementary speech acts are in play, the illocutionary point (the purpose of the speech act in speaking), or the perlocutionary intention (the intended effects by speaking).5 The strands are: Raising an issue onto the agenda, Legitimating future acts, Deterrence, Legitimating past acts/reproducing a security status, Control, Primer (Table 6.1). Although North Korea sees South Korea mainly as a threat, South Korea does not have the same role that other threats like Japan, or the US have. Some South Korean actors are not portrayed as threats at all, others only sometimes, and some Table 6.1  Strands of Securitisation Strand of Securitisation

Illocutionary Point

Perlocutionary Intention

Raising an issue onto the agenda Legitimating future acts Deterrence Legitimating past acts/ reproducing a security status Control Primer

Directive

Bringing attention to an issue

Directive Declarative Assertive

Generating legitimacy for future actions Deterring (non)specific actions Generating legitimacy for past actions

Directive Declarative

Obedience Bringing attention to an issue, shifting discourse

Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Vuori (2008: 76).

110  Benedikt Christoph Staar are depicted positively at first but negatively in the wake of political events. We can also see shifts in the overall depiction of South Korea following successful political engagement with North Korea, where South Korea is temporarily not the most important security threat for North Korea. The differences in how actors are integrated into different types of security arguments (for example, using security for legitimating past acts instead of using security to induce future obedience) involving different referent objects of security matter. As a result, securitisation theory is useful for analysing the portrayal of South Korea in North Korea because it allows for a nuanced analysis of an only seemingly simple relationship. Broadly speaking, securitisation theory can be used to make sense of the notion of security for North Korea. A comprehensive analysis of securitisation patterns allows for mapping the way in which security is emphasised in the domestic discourse by North Korean actors. This approach is further strengthened by looking not only at speech itself, but also at which actor performs what kind of securitisation. While existing research has already theorised a connection between the sociopolitical authority of an actor and what kind of securitisation they perform, the political implications concerning legitimacy have only played a minor role (Staar, 2021: 90–91). This study improves this part of speech act-based securitisation analysis with research on legitimacy in autocratic states. Autocracies like North Korea exert a strong control over the flow of information and can hinder citizens from accessing non-state information, which makes it possible for securitisation actors to securitise in ways that actors in democracies cannot: autocracies can transform foreign subjects into their ‘own’ securitising actors or into nuanced referent objects. In the securitisation dynamic between securitising actor and audience, the success or failure of securitisation can commonly be influenced by the audience or at least ascertained when it is primarily directed at somebody else. Securitisation where the audience can directly influence success or failure resembles ‘normal’ securitisation between the government and the people. Securitisation where success is visible resembles cases of Deterrence or Control where the primary audience are other states, not citizens. Still, even if the primary audience is foreign, outside-focused securitisation has domestic effects because, if successful, it strengthens the securitising actor’s domestic claim to power (Olesker, 2018: 315). An example would be North Korea deterring the US and South Korea to halt military training exercises under threat of military retaliation: Our consistent approach is about patient efforts for preserving peace on the Korean peninsula and regional stability. However, we will never accept aggressors and provocateurs bothering us and we will firmly answer with a holy war of ruthless justice for reunification. (Kim, 2016: 2). However, if the securitising move is not successful (the US proceeds with its military exercises), then the actor’s authority may be weakened. This (de)legitimation effect only unfolds if the results of the securitisation act are seen by the domestic audience. In non-autocratic states, a free press or similar

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense 111 institutions make this possible. In autocracies, the information control mechanism (censorship, propaganda) through which information must pass can be used to distort the original information. Through this, autocratic states can hide securitisation failures while making successes visible – depending on the level of information control, they can exert potentially full power over how much of the securitisation process they want to show. This underscores the importance of separately evaluating the effect of speech in being spoken (illocution) and the effect of speech by being spoken (perlocution). Even though we commonly consider securitisation for deterrence as a failure when it does not deter the intended foreign audience (perlocution), it still exerts force in being spoken (illocution) because the domestic audience does not know it has failed. As shown in the example above: even though there was no significant change in US-American and South Korean behaviour, the deterrence securitisation move still viably shows legitimation claims that stress the normative righteousness of North Korea’s politics. As a failure to deter can easily be hidden, this securitisation move has not necessarily failed on the level of legitimising the securitising actor. This study also aims to find out whether North Korea adheres to expectations about its desecuritisation behaviour. Whereas securitisation is the making of a security issue, the reverse process is termed desecuritisation (Buzan et al., 1998: 4). In this chapter, Vuori’s conceptualisation of desecuritisation as a countermove to securitisation is adopted, which means desecuritisation is understood to operate under the same structural conditions as securitisation and that it depends on the content of the speech act (Vuori, 2011: 116). This study further draws on Bourbeau and Vuori (2015) to classify the identified desecuritisation behaviour. While another article has shown that North Korea desecuritises in general (Staar, 2021), a more detailed insight into what kind of behaviour we can (or cannot) expect from North Korea is needed. By combining strands of securitisation (Vuori, 2008), securitising actor rankings (Staar, 2021), and classifications of legitimation claims (Soest and Grauvogel, 2017), this research proposes an approach to securitisation that considers the wider context in which it is performed, thereby addressing often voiced criticisms of speech act securitisation analysis being too focused on semantics (McDonald, 2008). Table 6.2 outlines the model as well as its possible configurations. The purpose of this model is to identify securitisation moves and legitimation claims. For this purpose, this study explores every newspaper article manually to identify relevant complex speech acts. Depending on the present structure, the study categorises complex speech acts as specific strands of securitisation. What legitimation claims and referent objects are invoked in the speech act depends on the content. For example, a speech act that justifies past agreements between North and South Korea based on guaranteeing freedom and fulfilling past agreements features the referent object freedom and the legitimation claim international engagement. A speech act can feature several referent objects or legitimation claims. If a speech act features no referent object or fits no strand of securitisation, it is not a securitisation move. Differentiating securitisation moves along the speaker and her or his authority clarifies the role of securitisation for

112  Benedikt Christoph Staar Table 6.2  A nalysing Securitisation and Legitimation Claims in Speech Acts in North Korea Strand of Securitisation

Referent Object

Securitising Actor [Socio-political Rank]

Legitimation Claim

Raising an issue onto the agenda Legitimating future acts Deterrence Legitimating past acts/reproducing a security status Control Primer

Describes the entity under threat; can range from physical object to idea or transcendental right; examples: unification, peace, freedom

Leader [1] Elite [2] Publishing entity [3] Foreign actor [4] Citizen [5]

Foundational myth Ideology Personalism Procedures Performance International engagement

Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Soest and Grauvogel (2017), Staar (2021), and Vuori (2008).

different social actors and contexts. Finally, adding legitimation claims to the analysis of securitisation moves helps separating more relevant (for instance, security-related) legitimation claims from the entirety of all possible legitimation claims in the source material. The methodological core of this study is a qualitative discourse analysis. It encompasses not only messages or appearances of set phrases but focuses on different types of argumentative patterns that do not depend on specific phrases. This study also differs from typical content analyses regarding South Korea in North Korea, in that it looks at how different argumentative patterns formulated by various actors have certain political effects. One of the main reasons for and benefits of this approach is that this sort of discourse analyses does not require a preliminary classification of terms that are included and excluded from the analysis. We cannot know beforehand every term and every phrase that North Korean actors may use in connection with security, therefore, using a typical content analytical approach of looking for specific terms in connection with security falls short of the research goal of identifying new instances of security speech. This study’s illocutionary oriented speech act-centred securitisation approach is based on the universality of language. The elementary speech acts that make up securitisation arguments sit at the very base of language; therefore, they do not differ between languages. While the specific meaning of terms like ‘imperialist’ may differ even between the Korean language in the North and in the South, the underlying logic of the phrase ‘Imperialists threaten our safety, therefore we must build nuclear weapons or surely die’ does not. Utterings about security are still based on elementary speech acts like claims, warnings, or declarations. Clarifying the specific meaning of the terms in the arguments in their respective unique North Korean context is necessary, but this step takes place after the initial identification

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense 113 of the security argument, which does not require a language analysis approach that only fits North Korea. The analysis is based on the Rodong Sinmun as it is North Korea’s most important domestic propaganda channel. The smallest possible unit is a single sentence, while the largest possible unit that can be understood as securitisation move is an article. As the focus of this study lies on the domestic construction of security and legitimacy, this research analyses the Korean versions of the Rodong Sinmun.6 Two questions have guided the process of choosing what time periods to investigate: how does North Korea portray South Korea during direct political clashes and exchanges, and how is this different from the general securitisation discourse? ­Defining clashes between North and South Korea are the destruction of the Republic of Korea ship (ROKS) Cheonan7 (26 March 2010), the shelling of Yeonpyeong Island8 (23 November 2010), and the destruction of the Inter-Korean liaison office in Kaesong (16 June 2020). Substantial exchanges are the visits of Kim Daejung9 (13–15 June 2000), Roh Moo-hyun10 (2–4 October 2007), and Moon Jae-in11 (18–20 September 2018) in Pyongyang. To judge the impact of these events on the state discourse in North Korea, a typical month three months before and after each event is analysed as well. Together with the New Year’s Editorials and Addresses, this provides an overview of the general securitisation of South Korea. New Year’s Editorials and Addresses – Establishing a Baseline Between 2000 and 2012, the Rodong Sinmun has published New Year’s Editorials on 1 January. After 2012, the Editorials have been replaced by a New Year’s Address from Kim Jong-un.12 Both types of articles serve as an outline of what the leadership deems important. While the Addresses are explicitly formulated as messages from the leader to the people, the Editorials are less direct, although still understood as governmental messaging. Control and Legitimating past acts make up almost 90 per cent of all observed speech acts in Editorials and Addresses. In other words: on 1 January, securitising actors like Kim Jong-un commonly use securitising arguments to legitimise political actions in the past, and require the people to accept other political measures in the future. Three aspects are especially interesting here: international engagement as legitimating claim, the differences between referent objects under Kim Jong-il13 and Kim Jong-un, and the difference in threat construction. Under Kim Jong-il, virtually all securitisation in relation to South Korea is linked with international engagement legitimation claims. This means that securitising actors construct security arguments in connection with direct international engagement like the 6.15 Declaration (also known as 2000 South-North Joint Declaration) or the 10.4 Declaration (also known as 2007 South-North Summit Declaration). Up until 2013, about 85 per cent of all securitisation acts include such legitimation claims. Under Kim Jong-un, there is a distinct change in legitimation arguments. Between 2014 and 2020, only 38 per cent of all securitisation acts contain international engagement claims. Figure 6.1 visualises how many securitisation moves contain at least one international engagement claim14 Furthermore, the claims are

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Figure 6.1 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing International Engagement Claims Compared to All Securitising Moves in New Year’s Editorials and Addresses (2000–2020) Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (1 January 2000–1 January 2020)

concentrated on 2018 and 2019. Finally, securitising actors do not use alternative legitimation claims like personalism or performance after 2013 to substitute international engagement. Instead, pure ideological claims are favoured over other forms of legitimation claims. This signifies a change between the South Korea politics of Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un – at least for the North Korean audience. Frequently invoked referent issues are unification (78 per cent) and peace (67 per cent), North–South relations (50 per cent), or freedom (47 per cent) (Figure 6.2). Under Kim Jong-il, we observe referent objects like cooperation or reconciliation between the two Koreas, which are somewhat direct terms. Under Kim Jong-un, these two terms are often discarded in favour of the less direct relations between North and South. However, the meaning of this change is ambiguous. On the one hand, it could be understood as a move away from engagement with the South. On the other hand, the opposite would be plausible as well: instead of focusing on idealistic reconciliation, Kim Jong-un may have wanted to realign North-South relations through more realistic means like limited political exchange or involvement of actors beyond South Korea. Judging from this change taking place almost immediately after Kim Jong-un’s ascendancy and North Korea’s diplomacy with the US and South Korea in 2018 and 2019, the latter interpretation seems more likely. Regardless of Kim Jong-il or Kim Jong-un being in power, North Korean actors securitise North Korea’s own survival or safety only a very limited number of times in relation to South Korea. This shows that South Korea, despite its military

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Figure 6.2 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Referent Objects Compared to All Securitising Moves in New Year’s Editorials and Addresses (2000–2020) Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (1 January 2000–1 January 2020)

capability to threaten North Korea, is depicted in a nuanced way and not simply used as a justification to expand North Korea’s military. When we look at who or what is constructed as a threat, we notice three things. First, North Korean securitising actors often use ambiguous terms like oese or antiunification forces. While the terms do not clearly refer to a specific subject like the US, they are often linked to such subjects in a single securitising move. Second, no specific term stands out as being predominant – both ambiguous (for example, oese) and explicit terms (for instance, South Korean traitors) are used in similar quantities. Third, unlike securitisation involving the US or Japan (‘US-American oppression has violated the Korean people’s right to freedom’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2006)), North Korea shows little to no securitisation where a unitary South Korean actor is a threat. Actors that fall under the label South Korea range from the South Korean government over South Korean conservatives (‘The South Korean government, under the former conservative administration’ (Kim, 2018: 2)) and traitors to a specific party or person: ‘Reactionary forces like the Hannara Party’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2007). How Does North Korea Securitise South Korea During Political Conflicts? After having established the foundations of North Korea’s South Korea portrayal, this study proceeds to analyse securitisation before, during, and after political conflicts between North and South. North Korea’s securitisation around the ROKS

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Figure 6.3 Change of Securitisation Strand Ratio Before and After the ROKS Cheonan Sinking (2009–2010) and the Shelling of Yeonpyeong Island (2010–2011) Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (3 December 2009–25 February 2011)

Cheonan sinking in March 2010 and around the shelling of Yeonpyeong Island in November 2010 both broadly follow a similar pattern (Figure 6.3). Before the events, securitising actors mostly use Primer (~55 per cent), and Control (between ~15 and ~25 per cent) securitisation strands. During the events, there is a negligible amount of securitisation. After the events, Control usage increases up to 30 per cent, Legitimating future acts usage increases as well, and in one case, Legitimating past acts use also increases. Meanwhile, Primer usage decreases. This means that we see no distinct rhetorical securitisation-based build-up to the event in question and no specific securitisation for political goals or policy during the events. After the events, securitising actors concentrate on garnering political loyalty and explaining past and future events more detailed. The destruction of the Inter-Korean liaison office deviates from this pattern (Figure 6.4). Before and after the event, we see almost no securitisation at all. During the event, however, there are numerous securitisation moves performed via different strands. While the timing differs from the other cases, this ratio adheres to the observed North Korean day-to-day securitisation. Judging from North Korea’s securitising behaviour in all cases, the destruction of the liaison office was much more carefully planned for domestic political purposes, whereas the prior incidents are strongly reminiscent of North Korean actors reacting to external events. The subjects which threaten the referent objects (Figure 6.5) follow a pattern akin to securitisation in New Year’s Editorials and Addresses. While threats in connection with any South Korean subject are most frequently invoked (about 80 per cent), negative terms for specific ideological enemies (for example, South Korean conservatives, Hannara Party, Lee Myung-bak15) make up the majority of these

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Figure 6.4 Change of Securitisation Strand Ratio Before, During, and After the Destruction of the Inter-Korean Liaison Office (2020) Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (3 March 2020–29 September 2020)

Figure 6.5 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Referenced Threats Compared to All Securitising Moves During Political Conflict Between North and South Korea Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (3 December 2009–25 February 2011, 3 March 2020–29 September 2020)

118  Benedikt Christoph Staar threat constructions. The more neutral term ‘South Korean government’ features as a threat in less than 40 per cent of all securitisation moves. This can be seen in connection with legitimation claims as well: claims invoking inter alia international engagement make up about 40 per cent. North Korea stresses the destructive potential of inter-Korean clashes for inter-Korean relations and frequently pins the blame not on South Korea in general, but more specifically on South Korean conservatives, such as the ‘traitorous Lee Myung-bak clique’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2010a), or the ‘puppet unification minister Hyun In-taek’ (Choe, 2010). North Korean securitising actors appear in all possible configurations, except for the state leader. While he virtually never securitises, we often see either no specific actor description (~50 per cent), or North Korean elites (~15 per cent). Among the elites, there is no clear difference in securitising behaviour, as all use various strands of securitisation with differing referent objects and threats. Surprisingly, foreign and South Korean actors (~30 per cent), which are not limited to embodying threats, securitise much more than specific North Korean actors: ‘The Korean Alliance for Progressive Movement, the Korean Confederation of Trade Unions, and other civil society groups like “People for Peace and Unification” demanded the cancellation of the “Key Resolve” and “Foal Eagle” combined military exercises in a press conference on the 16th in Seoul in front of the South Korean/US Combined Forces Command’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2011). Interestingly, the legitimation claims made by South Korean securitisation actors feature international engagement as often as ideology, which is only a slight deviation from the overall usage of these claims during political conflict. South Korean actors furthermore refer to the same threats that North Korean securitising actors do: oese, the US, and South Korean conservatives. Essentially, even during political conflict between North and South Korea, South Korean actors are given room to securitise. The way they securitise, however, is decidedly North Korean in both content and structure. How Does North Korea Securitise During Political Cooperation? We have seen that political conflicts seem to influence North Korean securitising behaviour: hostile South Korean subjects are more clearly named and political loyalty against foreign enemies is focused. Still, do North Korean actors use South Korea for political goals only during conflicts? Generally, the quantity of securitisation moves is similar during cooperation and conflict. This supports the assumption that it does not matter whether an event between North and South is positive or negative for motivating securitising actors to employ security arguments, regardless of securitisation or desecuritisation. This does not mean, however, that the content of the ongoing securitisation processes is unchanged. During political exchanges, North Korea employs desecuritisation and securitisation (~45 per cent versus ~55 per cent). During political conflicts, desecuritisation is almost negligible (~10 per cent versus ~90 per cent). As a reminder: desecuritisation means that securitising actors actively argue for the use of non-military or non-security measures for reducing threats to referent objects and/or to achieve political goals.

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Figure 6.6 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Strands of Securitisation Compared to All Securitisation and Desecuritisation Moves Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (1 January 2000–1 January 2020)

Overall, this securitisation behaviour confirms a characterisation of North Korea as publicly unwilling to compromise during conflict. The strands that North Korea uses most frequently for desecuritisation are Legitimating past acts (~48 per cent of all desecuritisation moves) and Legitimating future acts (~22 per cent). Control and Primer acts are used for desecuritisation only with a rate of about 15 per cent each. This is an inversion of North Korea’s common securitisation behaviour (Figure 6.6). Still, when considering all securitisation moves during political cooperation between North and South Korea, Control and Primer act usage reaches 60 per cent. Evidently, North Korea’s style of securitisation during political exchange shifts, but it does not fully change. This becomes clearer when looking at legitimation claims (Figure 6.7). Claims that involve ideology are the most widespread because terms that emphasise the ideological differences between North Korea and others like ‘US-American imperialists’ (O, 2008) or ‘Songun leadership’ (O, 2008) are a staple of North Korean propaganda. International engagement claims such as ‘in the 10.4 declaration [between North and South Korea], it was expressed that North and South transcend the differences in ideas and system and transform their relationship into a stable connection of mutual respect’ (Eun, 2008) and personalism claims measure at about 40 per cent. This is a stark contrast to political conflict, where personalism claims only feature in slightly above 10 per cent of securitising acts. Foreign actors are the reason for this. During conflict, foreign actors make almost half of all securitising moves that feature personalism claims, such as: ‘The chairman of the central committee of the Workers Party of Bangladesh said… that

120  Benedikt Christoph Staar

Figure 6.7 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Legitimation Claims Compared to All Securitising Moves During Political Exchanges Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (1 March 2000–20 September 2000, 1 July 2007–26 January 2008, 1 June 2018–26 December 2018)

the North-South meeting, which is a result of his Excellency Kim Jong-un’s extraordinary will and brave decision, is a monumental event that will clearly be remembered in the history of the Korean unification movement’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2018a). Foundational myth claims, such as ‘as the dear General marches towards a victorious end to the 6.15 unification era, the fulfilment the fatherly Leader’s wish for unification draws near’ (Kim, 2007) appear only very rarely. A peculiar North Korean securitisation tendency continues during cooperation: North Korea’s own safety is seldomly argued to be threatened (~10 per cent). Furthermore, the focus on specific referent objects varies depending on the time and political context. In 2000, North Korean media focuses on two things: the physical insecurity of the South Koreans (especially women) and the pardoning of political prisoners in South Korea. Correspondingly, before Kim Dae-jung’s visit we see messages such as ‘recently, a woman was cruelly murdered by US-imperialist invaders in the Seoul neighbourhood Itaewon.… However, the South Korean puppets were once again reluctant to investigate as it became clear that the criminals were US-American soldiers and thus revealed a picture of colonial extortion’ (Ri, 2000: 5) and afterwards a shift towards messages such as ‘the fact that the political prisoners were able to return into the arms of the North is the result of the humanitarian politics of the Great Leader Kim Jong-il, who always believed in them as revolutionary comrades and worked tirelessly for safeguarding their honour and happiness’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2000). In 2007 and 2018, we see little threat-construction

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense 121 regarding the North or South Korean people. Instead, the primary referent objects are either peace, unification, or cooperation between North and South Korea. The threats that North Korean securitising actors present differ substantially between times of political conflict and cooperation. Most notably, South Korean actors are constructed as a threat in only one in three securitising moves during cooperation (as opposed to four in five during conflict). Furthermore, during political cooperation, threats from South Korea are almost always explicitly emanating from distinct enemies such as ‘belligerent forces’ or conservative parties. Neutral terms like ‘South Korean government’ appear occasionally. In other words, both during conflict and during cooperation, when talking about South Korea as a threat, North Korean actors rarely make out a unitary South Korean actor as the source. North Korea uses South Korea for political purposes both during conflict and cooperation. What Is the Impact of South Korea on North Korean Securitisation? The guiding question of this article is: how do changing relations with South K ­ orea influence North Korean securitisation in connection with South Korea? The research findings show that North Korea used several strategies to resolve the paradox of working with the enemy. Above all, North Korea’s securitisation is not independent from its political situation. In 2000, we see a strong vilification of South Korean authorities with no distinct differentiation between South Korean actors. As there were no substantial contracts between North and South Korea before the summit, North Korea had no direct motivation to publicly praise prior agreements or refer to any important international engagement. Therefore, North Korea based its legitimation claims mostly on ideology. This, in turn, supported the focus on North Korea’s traditional enemies like the US and South Korea and explains why securitisation involving South Korea is linked with a US-threat. Control and Primer acts work well in this threat environment and fulfil two objectives: they strengthen domestic obedience to the North Korean leadership and maintain the political situation. However, political cooperation with the ostensible enemy South Korea seems paradoxical for the average North Korean citizen, as he or she is commonly told that South Korea’s people are under the yoke of a tyrannical government. Why would the North Korean leadership want to work with this government? If the North Korean government wants to change its political course and successfully engage South Korea, it is faced with a credibility problem. To resolve this problem, the North Korean media shifted its South Korea narrative. First, it reduced the quantity of negative South Korea depictions. Second, it removed the topics that could not be logically resolved from within the discourse, meaning that concerns about North Korean safety were simply not talked about during and after Kim Dae-jung’s visit to Pyongyang in 2000. Third, North Korean securitising actors focussed on incorporating explanations into their securitisation moves (‘We are working with the South Korean government because this will ultimately lead to unification’) instead of demanding obedience (‘We must all work according to the party’s guidance, no matter what’). This way, the North Korean

122  Benedikt Christoph Staar government pre-emptively streamlined its narrative and citizens did not need to come up with their own explanations. Fourth, the North Korean media shifted the focus of cooperation from the enemy South Korea to the excellence of Kim Jong-il (visible in the stronger focus on personalism legitimation claims as well as Kim Jong-il’s own securitisation) and political gains (release of political prisoners). This narrative shift enabled North Korea to portray South Korea in an overall less negative light (which is conducive to North Korea’s foreign policy) while still holding up its internal propaganda logic. This behaviour, however, is not deterministic. We cannot predict how exactly North Korea’s behaviour will change or that it will solidify securitisation changes. In early 2008, after Roh Moo-hyun’s visit to North Korea, we see that North ­Korea shifted its securitisation behaviour back to Control and Primer acts. Still, we do not see a return to common anti-South Korea rhetoric. Instead, we see desecuritisation acts where, for example, North Korean elites stressed the importance of inter-­ Korean cooperation. Furthermore, the threat that they created when they securitised is not focused on South Korean actors, but almost exclusively on either the US or oese. After Kim Dae-jung’s visit to North Korea, North Korean securitising actors cautiously focussed on the release of political prisoners as direct political gain. After Roh Moo-hyun’s visit, North Korean securitising actors focussed on using both abstract referent objects like peace and unification but also direct cooperation between North and South Korea. Thus, when garnering political loyalty from the North Korean populace, North Korean actors used a South Korea narrative that was to some degree dependent on current events. Moon Jae-in’s visit to Pyongyang in 2018 also shows the importance of current events. During the previous two examples, North Korea eventually mentioned the threat from the US, even when desecuritising South Korea. This is because North Korea’s ideology is tied to a security thinking in which North Korea’s autonomy is threatened from outside forces. However, in mid-2018, this idea became unstable because North Korea’s securitisation of the US had undergone marked changes (Staar, 2021). Consequently, without the US to take over the role of an outside threat, North Korean securitising actors chose to reduce the construction of overall threats and emphasised ambiguous threats (oese, imperialism). With the aid of these three examples, we can see that North Korean securitising actors change the structure (securitisation strands) and content (referent objects, legitimation claims) of the South Korea narrative depending on structural conditions and current events. These narrative-changes ensure that citizens do not doubt the accuracy of the North Korean ideology, the North Korean leadership itself, and that the government can reach diplomatic agreements with foreign states, ensuring both political stability and successful foreign policy. Integrating South Korea South Korean securitising actors in the Rodong Sinmun generally conform to the overall securitisation behaviour of North Korea, they appear both during conflict and cooperation, and they securitise more than they desecuritise. This leads to the

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Figure 6.8 Relative Amount (in Per Cent) of Securitising Moves Containing Specific Referent Objects Compared to All Securitising Moves Involving South Korean Actors Source: Author’s own compilation, based on Rodong Sinmun (1 January 2000–1 January 2020)

question how North Korea integrates South Korea into domestic securitisation dynamics, that is, when are South Korean entities threats, and when are they given room to speak? The most glaring feature of South Korean securitising actors is that more than half of their securitisation is concerned with other South Korean subjects. We see a variety of actors which include the South Korean government, various South Korean conservative parties, or former South Korean president Lee Myung-bak. It would be plausible to suspect that South Korean actors primarily fulfil the role of showcasing a dire individual and economic situation in South Korea. This is, however, not the case because their appearance is much more frequently linked with political issues (Figure 6.8). South Korean securitising actors most often mention peace (~49 per cent) to be under threat when securitising. The second and third most often invoked referent objects are unification (~37 per cent) and freedom (~36 per cent). Comparisons, in which the actors emphasise the superiority of the North Korean economic or political system, are very rare. Thus, South Korean actors in North Korean media securitise with strong political goals in mind. There are two reasons for this kind of securitisation: North Korea can believably integrate South Korean actors firstly by splitting them into neutral/positive and negative parties; and secondly by focusing on a shared Korean identity. Splitting up South Korean actors circumvents the pitfall of inadvertently portraying South Korea too positively, which would pose a clash with established North Korean characterisations of South Korea as Other and enemy. Examples of neutral or positive actors found in North Korean media are the South Korean government, South Korean civic groups, or South Korean academics. Negative actors are denoted by

124  Benedikt Christoph Staar terms like South Korean puppets, South Korean belligerent forces, or South Korean reactionary forces. Interestingly, even negatively associated parties (for example, Hannara Party) or politicians (for instance, Lee Myung-bak) are specifically named in North Korean securitisation. Conversely, neutral or positive actors remain ambiguous most of the time. The reason for this becomes clear when we consider the impact on domestic legitimacy. An outside threat is a powerful motivator in any context. Judging by its behaviour in depicting South Korea (downplaying actors, who are positively inclined towards North Korea and emphasising opponents to North Korea), North Korea does not want to lose the motivator ‘threat from South Korea’. While this is detrimental to North-South relations, it is the price that North Korea deems worth paying to retain this strong political motivator. The second reason for North Korea’s incorporation of South Korean actors lies in the unification discourse. Unification is a powerful referent object that is consistently invoked during clashes, cooperation, and in day-to-day securitisation. However, unification is also consistently linked to a peaceful process. This requires a South Korean counterpart that can be presented as an ideologically fitting partner in a potential unification process. For this reason, we see numerous instances of South Korean actors in form of student or civic groups. Of course, outside observers understand that these groups do not hold significant political power to oversee a realistic political process between North and South Korea on North Korean terms. The North Korean audience, however, does not know this because the North Korean government exerts its information control. Therefore, this behaviour can also be safely assumed to be directed at the domestic audience in North Korea, strengthening their belief in the political system. Overall, South Korea takes an important role in North Korean securitisation processes – both as an actor and as a referent object. North Korean media features numerous instances of either the North Korean government or, more frequently, outside actors calling on the US, the South K ­ orean government, or the United Nations (UN) to act in a specific way (Control) or desist from doing something else (Deterrence): ‘the British branch of the Korean Friendship Association… announced on 24 May.… We demand the immediate stop of aggressive politics against the DPRK by US-imperialists and South Korean puppets as well as a thorough investigation of the [ROKS Cheonan] incident’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2010b). Even though the failure of these securitisation moves is virtually guaranteed, the true purpose of this type of securitisation lies in presenting the constructed threat (for example, the US) in a negative light that is shunned not only by North Korea, but by other members of the international society as well. Simultaneously, the North Korean government is legitimised by being presented as part of a wider international movement against the threats in question – considering the effect on legitimation, these securitisation moves do not fail. (Dis)continuity Between Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un The most important difference between Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un concerns North Korea’s practice of referring to prior agreements with South Korea when securitising. Between 2000 and 2013, about 85 per cent of all speech acts in New

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense 125 Year’s Editorials contain references to North Korea’s international engagement. Most often, these references explicitly name the 6.25 declaration or the 10.4 declaration. Between 2014 and 2020, we see only around 37 per cent of similar references in Kim Jong-un’s New Year’s Addresses. Furthermore, the majority of the references focus on the years 2018 and 2019. A possible explanation would be that the early years of Kim Jong-un’s reign were not in a favourable environment of North-South Korea relations and that Kim Jong-un himself was busy consolidating his power. Under Kim Jong-il, international engagement claims concerning South Korea are observable even during the crises of the ROKS Cheonan sinking and the shelling of Yeonpyeong Island. This implies that bad relations between North and South Korea are not a definitive factor for deciding whether North Korean securitising actors decide to invoke successful prior engagement. Instead, it is more useful to think of how legitimation claims fit into the reigning ideology. Kim Jong-un’s personal connection to the visits of Kim Dae-jung and Roh Moo-hyun is negligible. Therefore, yearly references to the ‘historical’ (­Rodong Sinmun, 2010c) declarations and meetings between North and South ­Korea vanish after 2013. However, after Kim Jong-un achieves a diplomatic success with both the US and South Korea in 2018, North Korean securitising actors rapidly focus on the Panmunjom Declaration as the defining event that resembles positive North-South relations. Another indicator for the importance of the 2018 rapprochement is North Korea’s desecuritisation behaviour. Under Kim Jong-il, North Korea has tended to desecuritise in terms of shifting the blame away from South Korea while simultaneously invoking existing or new threats. Evidently, this is not a typical reversal of security argumentation but rather a different form of desecuritisation more akin to replacement (Bourbeau and Vuori, 2015: 258). This form of desecuritisation normally means that a different security issue takes place of the original one – it is replaced. However, in the North Korean case here, it is not the security issue that is replaced, but the securitising actor. Under Kim Jong-un, we see other kinds of desecuritisation: ‘The Dear Leader talked about how they [Kim Jong-un and Moon Jae-in] discussed solving the problems of continuing the new era of reconciliation, peace, and prosperity, which is brought about through an accelerated development of North-South relations.… He also talked about how reconciliation and the Korean reunification will be enabled by concrete methods of exchange in different fields and sectors, multi-­dimensional talks and cooperation, and diverse exchange revitalisation’ (Rodong Sinmun, 2018b). Here, non-confrontational or non-military measures are expressively ­argued to be the way for reducing tensions and threats, without simultaneously shifting the threat-logic to another actor. The already described adaption of South Korea descriptions in times of political cooperation is comparable to the behaviour that Bourbeau and Vuori (2015: 259–260) describe as pre-emptive desecuritisation. Consequently, to answer one of the questions of this article, North Korea’s desecuritisation behaviour does not seem to strongly deviate from existent ideas about how (autocratic) states may use rhetoric to enhance security or further policy. The most important continuity between securitisation under Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un is that cooperation does not guarantee a positive overall depiction

126  Benedikt Christoph Staar of South Korea. In North Korean securitisation processes, South Korea is never fully transformed into a non-threat. Even when desecuritising in connection with the South Korean government, securitising actors in North Korea can still invoke South Korean threats based on South Korean political parties or other societal actors. Therefore, beyond the importance for North Korean legitimation and for the securitisation dynamic itself, a third reason for why we should pay attention to North Korea’s securitisation concerning South Korea is that it can resolve the question of whether North Korea’s government changes its portrayal of South Korea. Instead of North Korea fundamentally changing its South Korea portrayal during conflict or cooperation, we merely see a shift. This is because the portrayal not only depends on the foreign policy goals of the North Korean government, but also on further internal and external factors, such as concerns about legitimation. We can only make sense of these portrayal shifts if we can successfully identify their gradual appearance in North Korean sources as well as accept that North Korea operates under similar political mechanisms that other autocracies do. Conclusion The primary question this chapter has addressed was how changing relations with South Korea influence North Korean securitisation in connection with South Korea. For answering this question, this chapter analysed North Korea’s most important newspaper, the Rodong Sinmun, in selected periods over the past 20 years. The research findings show that the problem with understanding South Korea’s portrayal as either positive or negative is centred around an assumption of a unitary South Korean actor which falls short of reality. North Korean media rarely portrays South Korea as a unitary actor. Rather, North Korean securitising actors construct several South Korean actors, some of which are denoted by positive or neutral terms (for example, students, professors, civic groups, and the government) and some of which are denoted by negative terms (for instance, fascists, collaborators, and puppets). Through this diversification of South Korean subjects, North Korean media can portray South Korea simultaneously negatively and positively. Furthermore, specific South Korean actors are incorporated into the North Korean securitisation process itself by making them securitising actors, meaning that South Korean actors are given room to speak. Their arguments only partially mirror arguments made by North Korean securitising actors, meaning that we can assume South Korean securitising actors in North Korean media to have a role beyond repeating North Korean arguments. Through explaining the unique role South Korea plays for North Korea, the research findings also show that North Korea ultimately securitises according to expectations, which is more desecuritisation during political cooperation to further its own foreign policy goals and more securitisation during conflict to strengthen political stability and legitimacy. Looking beyond North Korea, this research shows that the analysis of securitisation in autocratic states can clarify how propaganda includes legitimation claims and threat depictions depending on relations with other states, which is ultimately

Why Presenting a Foe as a Friend Can Make Sense 127 a factor for political stability. Through this, this chapter extends the link between securitisation theory and autocratic political stability beyond co-optation (Yilmaz et al., 2021) and shows that securitisation as a source for legitimacy (Olesker, 2018: 315) is relevant for autocratic states. The universality of illocutionary logicbased securitisation is helpful to generalise findings beyond single cases and to problematise supposedly failed securitisation moves. This study has furthermore explained how controlling the flow of information is crucial to autocratic securitisation processes. A central contribution this article makes is highlighting the importance for outside observers to understand how structural confinements can inform, enable, or limit North Korean actors’ behaviour. This is not only about what the actors can or cannot say during diplomatic talks but also about what kind of politics the North Korean government can or cannot ‘sell’ its citizens. For example, if the North Korean government regularly declares nuclear weapons to be an essential defence against foreign enemies via its propaganda, it cannot enforce a policy that represents the opposite of this rhetoric without causing confusion among the citizens. Contradictory behaviour (like working together with South Korea or denuclearising completely) can, erode the citizens’ belief in the state little by little. To be able to conduct policy that contradicts its own ideology, the North Korean government follows rules that minimise the visibility of contradictions when the propaganda changes. This is a slow, gradual, and potential costly process, which explains the North Korean unwillingness to engage in such efforts if there is no perceived benefit. Yet, North Korean behaviour in the past shows that, during times of cooperation with other states, the government is willing to change its propaganda. If outside observers understand the rules of how the North Korean government communicates potential contradictory policies to its citizens without losing credibility, more effective pressure or engagement policy towards North Korea can be formulated: diplomatic talks may be designed around demands which North Korea’s government can realistically present at home, such as a peace process that allows for a limited North Korean nuclear self-defence capability. Alternatively, outside actors may try to weaken the North Korean government’s domination of the domestic discourse through expanding and consolidating the influx of foreign information. For outside actors and especially South Korean actors, the issue of understanding how North Korea remains politically stable is important. Analyses of North Korean discourse can, despite the propagandistic nature of their sources, provide a unique view on the larger issue of how the North Korean government stays in power. If outside observers better understand how specific issues can potentially contribute to (de)stabilising the North Korean government and, more importantly, how the North Korean government itself perceives these issues, observers can improve their efforts to create realistic and attainable North Korea policy goals. Given the current state of international politics with North Korea, formulating realistic goals instead of a ‘shopping list’ of demands is one of the most pressing issues for foreign governments.

128  Benedikt Christoph Staar Notes 1 For example: ‘Lately, US-American imperialists and Southern puppets are moving the political situation of the country towards war.... [their behaviour] is essentially an open war of aggression against us’ (Rodong Sinmun, 21 August 2015: 1). 2 For example: ‘Comrade Kim Jong-un and President Moon Jae-in met each other in a position of mutual respect and trust’ (Rodong Sinmun, 20 September 2018: 1), ‘[President Roh Moo-hyun] said that trust building firmly strengthens peace on the Korean peninsula and will become the basis of future prosperity for North and South and he expressed his expectations that this meeting will become a trigger for this development’ (Rodong Sinmun, 3 October 2007: 2). 3 I understand legitimacy as ‘the capacity of a political system to engender and maintain the belief that existing political institutions are the most appropriate or proper ones for the society’ (Lipset, 1959, quoted in Soest and Grauvogel, 2017: 288). 4 Foundational works about securitisation theory are Buzan et al. (1998) and Waever (1995). 5 Illocution (Austin, 1962) refers to the question of what is done in saying something, while perlocution refers to what is done by saying something. For example: a promise is an illocutionary act because regardless of the audience’s reaction, the speaker can logically promise something by saying ‘I hereby promise to do X’. Conversely, convincing somebody is a perlocutionary act, as it not only depends on the spoken claim itself, but also on the audience’s reaction. One can logically exclaim ‘I hereby promise to do X’, but one cannot logically claim ‘I hereby convince you to do X’. For a detailed discussion see Vuori (2011). 6 Available at dprkmedia.com. 7 The ROKS Cheonan was a South Korean Navy ship that sank after an explosion in South Korean waters on 26 March 2010. While the cause is disputed, a North Korean attack seems the most likely scenario (United Nations Security Council, 2010). 8 On 23 November 2010, North Korea responded to a South Korean military exercise in the vicinity of Yeonpyeong Island with artillery fire, causing several South Korean fatalities and injuries. 9 President of South Korea from 1998 to 2003. 10 President of South Korea from 2003 to 2008. 11 President of South Korea from 2017 to 2022. 12 Leader of North Korea since 2011. 13 Leader of North Korea from 1994 to 2011. 14 Figures 6.2, 6.5, 6.7, 6.8 follow the same logic in visualising percentages of mentioned referent objects, legitimation claims, etc. Sums do not add up to 100 per cent because multiple categories are possible. 15 President of South Korea from 2008 to 2013.

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Index

Abe Shinzo 76, 78, 80 Agenda Mediation Committee 15 Agricultural and Maritime Management Committee and the Political Reform Committee 14 Ahn Cheol-su 10 Albania 19 Alejandro Agustín Lanusse 96 anti-candidate campaigns 39 Anti-Corruption Agency 16 APT see ASEAN Plus Three Argentina 86–91, 93, 95–100 ASEAN Plus Three (APT) 72–73, 82n4 ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) 73, 82n5 Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) meetings 74 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) 70–73, 81, 82n3 Augusto Pinochet 99 Bareun Future Party (BFP) 14–15, 24n23 Beijing 52, 57, 74–75, 80–81, 96 BFP see Bareun Future Party Bourbeau, Philippe 111, 125 Cambodia 82n3 Canberra Times 100 Carlos Morales Abarzúa 91, 92 Central Unica de Trabajadores (CUT) 91 Cheongnyeonui Sori 98 Chiang Mai Initiative 72–73 Chile 86–95, 98–100 Chilean Christian Democratic Party 99 Chilean government 90, 93, 95 Cho Kuk 15, 24n27 Chun Doo-hwan 34–35, 51 citizens 9–10, 31–33, 38, 40–42, 44–45, 106, 110, 122, 127; Japanese 77 Citizens’ Party of Korea (CPK) 24n30

Citizens’ Solidarity for the General Election 40, 45n2 civil society 12, 22, 33, 43–45; autonomy of 35; emergence of 36–37; evolution of Korean 39–40; growth of Korean 37–38; political leadership and 32–34 civil society organisations (CSOs) 21, 87, 91, 98 Cold War 49–50, 61, 86–88, 95, 98 Cold War International History Project 88 Communist Party of Chile 89 Condoleezza Rice 55 Constitutional Court 10–11, 23n11 Consultative Board 74 Control and Primer acts 119, 121–122 CUT see Central Unica de Trabajadores democracy: Asian 31; bourgeois 94; commodity of 41; consolidation of 32–33, 39–40, 44; crisis of 33; formal 1, 4–5; gestation period of 35; Korean 31–32, 34, 36–37, 44–45; liberal 1; participatory 39–40; procedural 13, 36; quality of 1–2; regression of 33; representative 1–2, 22, 43; transformation of 32; transition to 22, 33–35 Democratic Labor Party (DLP) 1, 5, 8, 10, 23n11 Democratic Party (DP) 9, 11, 13–17, 21, 24n23, 24n30 Democratic Peace Party (DPP) 14–15, 24n23 Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) 49–61, 63–64, 77, 86, 88, 92–96, 99–100, 106, 124 democratisation 4–5, 22, 31–38, 41, 44–45, 51, 64

Index  133 desecuritisation 111, 118–119, 122, 125–126 Diaoyu Dao 82n9 Digital Government and Green Growth 86 Donald Trump 58, 77 Douglas MacArthur 90–91 DP see Democratic Party DPP see Democratic Peace Party DPRK see Democratic People’s Republic of Korea East Asia Summit (EAS) 73, 82n4–5 Economic Affairs 74 Eduardo Frei Montalva 92 Edward Korry 94 electoral system 2–3, 5, 7–9, 11, 15, 19, 21–22, 23n12, 24n22 El Orden 88 Enrique Zorrilla 93 Environment and Labor Committee 10 European Union (EU) 70–71, 81, 82n5 Fernando Murillo Viaña 91, 99 Fifth Republic (1980–1988) 5–6, 36 financial crisis 38, 72 First Sino-Japanese War 75 “Foal Eagle” 118 Fourth Republic (1972–1980) 5–6 free trade agreement (FTA) 70, 75 FTA see free trade agreement Future Korea Party (FKP) 24n30 Gabriel González Videla 89–90 Gabriel Valdés 93 Global Nuclear Security Summit 53 Hallstein Doctrine 50, 94 Harry Truman 88–89 Héctor J. Cámpora 96 Instituto Chileno Coreano de Cultura 93 Inter-American Treaty of Reciprocal Assistance 88 International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) 62 International Finance and Economy 73 Japan 60–61, 64, 70, 72–73, 75–78, 80–82, 82n6, 82n11, 82n15, 106, 109, 115 Jeju Island 74 Jorge Rafael Videla 100 José Manuel Isla 92 Juan Domingo Perón 89, 96–97

Judicial Committee 10, 15 June Resistance 35 Justice Party (JP) 1, 9–10, 13–17, 23n18, 24n23 Kang Ryang-uk 96 Kan Naoto 75 Kim Dae-jung 36, 38–39, 41, 52, 56, 120–122, 125 Kim Il-sung 88, 94, 96–97 Kim Jae-gyu 34 Kim Jong-il 113–114, 120, 122, 124–125 Kim Jong-un 113–114, 120, 124–125 Kim Ryong-taek 96 Kim Seok-jin 97 Kim Seongtae 24 Kim Young-sam 36–39, 52 Koizumi Junichiro 72 Korea Atomic Energy Research Institute 55 The Korean Alliance for Progressive Movement 118 Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA) 34 the Korean Confederation of Trade Unions 118 Korean Liberation Day 93 Korean peninsula 49, 52, 55–57, 59–62, 64, 77, 80, 88–89, 98, 106, 128n2 Korean War 50, 61, 87–91, 98 Korea Superconducting Tokamak Advanced Research 57 Kyunghyang Shinmun 94 la ley maldita (damned law) 89 La Nación 97 Laos 82n3 Latin America 86–88, 90–93, 95–98 Lee Myung-bak 10, 23n19, 39, 41, 43, 45n3, 51–52, 55, 57, 78, 116, 118, 123–124 legitimacy 19, 34–35, 38–40, 92, 106–108, 110, 113, 126–127; domestic 108, 124; potential loss of 4 legitimation 107–109; autocratic 107; claims 111–112, 114, 118–119, 121–122, 125–126, 128n14 Leonid Brezhnev 100 Lesotho 19 Liberal Korea Party (LKP) 8, 14–17, 23n19, 24n23, 24n30–31 Little Angels Children’s Folk Ballet of Korea 98 LKP see Liberal Korea Party

134 Index Mad Cow Disease Candlelight Demonstrations 41 María Estela (Isabel) Martínez 96–97 mixed-member majoritarian (MMM) system 1, 4–5, 10, 17 mixed-member proportional (MMP) system 2, 9, 15, 17, 19 MMM see mixed-member majoritarian system MMP see mixed-member proportional system Moon Jae-in 2, 9–10, 13, 23n17, 24n27, 43, 52, 58, 62, 113, 122, 125, 128n2 Mung Song-guk 96 Mutual Defence Treaty 50 Myanmar 82n3 NAPA (National Assembly Election and Prevention of Election Corruption Act) 5, 23n9 National Assembly 1, 4–5, 8–13, 15, 23n15, 24n27, 40, 43, 62 National Election Commission (NEC) 11–12, 19, 21 NEC see National Election Commission New Alternative Party (NAP) 15 Non-Proliferation Treaty 60 Northern Policy 51 North Korea see Democratic People’s Republic of Korea Panmunjom Declaration 125 Park Chung-hee 34, 50, 53, 62 Park Geun-hye 11, 13, 16, 42–43, 45n4, 52, 55–56, 58, 76 parliamentary committee for political reforms 13 Participatory Government 39 People Power Party (PPP) 24n30 People’s Party (PP) 9, 13 People’s Republic of China (PRC) 51, 53, 55, 60, 77, 94, 100 Peronist government 97–99 political leadership 32–34, 36–41, 43–45 Political Parties Act (PPA) 7, 19, 23n12 political power 31, 33–36, 38–39, 41–44, 124 politics 7, 35, 40, 42, 44; coalition 4, 8; domestic 55, 77, 89; humanitarian 120; institutional 42; international 78–79, 108, 127; party 39; reform 11 PR see proportional representational

proportional representational (PR) 1–3, 6–9, 11–19, 21, 22n2–3, 23n10, 23n12, 23n16, 23n19, 24n21, 23n25, 23n28, 23n30 Public Office Election Act (PEA) 1, 4, 17–19, 24n26, 24n29 Radical Party (of Argentina) 91 Radical Party of Chile 89 reform committee 11–12, 14–15 Republic of Korea (ROK) 31, 49–50, 54, 77, 86, 93, 106, 113 Republic of Korea ship (ROKS) Cheonan 64, 113, 115, 124–125, 128n7 Rhee Syngman 50 Richard Nixon 50 Rio Treaty 88–89; see also Inter-American Treaty of Reciprocal Assistance Rodong Sinmun 107, 113, 122, 126 Roh Hoe-chan 24n23 Roh Moo-hyun 39, 41, 52, 54–55, 57, 113, 122, 125, 128n2 Roh Tae-woo 34, 36, 51 ROK see Republic of Korea Salvador Allende 94–95, 99 securitisation 113, 115–116, 118–119, 122–123; approach 108; behaviour 119, 122; discourses 108; North Korean 107, 121, 124, 126; strands of 109, 111, 118; theory 109–110, 127, 128n4 security 42, 52–55, 58, 60–62, 81, 107–113, 118, 122, 125; dynamics 49; ideological 88; international 91; military 100; non-traditional 108; traditional 108 Senkaku Shotō 82n9 Seoul 49–58, 60–62, 64, 69, 74, 76, 78, 80–81, 94–95, 118, 120 Shim Sang-jeong 1, 10–16, 21, 23n17, 23n19, 24n23 Shintaro Ishihara 75–76 single-member districts (SMD) 1–2, 7, 9, 14–15, 17–18, 21, 22n6, 23–24n21, 24n25, 24n28 Six-Party Talks 50, 52–60 SMD see single-member districts Socio-Cultural Affairs 74 Songun leadership 119 Sørensen, Georg 32, 39 Southern Cone countries 86–88, 90–91, 98–99 Soviet Union 51, 88, 90, 95, 100

Index  135 South Korea see Republic of Korea Sunshine Policy 56, 59 TCS see Tripartite Cooperation Secretariat Terminal High Altitude Area Defence systems (THAAD) 56 Thomas Clifton Mann 89 Tripartite Cooperation Secretariat (TCS) 69, 74–77, 80–81, 82n10, 82n17 (U) Thant 92 UN Commission for the Unification and Rehabilitation of Korea (UNCURK) 90–93, 95 UNCURK see UN Commission for the Unification and Rehabilitation of Korea unification 88, 114, 121, 123–124 United Future Party (UFP) 24n30–31

United Nations (UN) 52, 124 United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) 87–88, 90 United Nations Security Council Resolution 52, 56 United States (US) 34–35, 50, 54–55, 57–58, 61–64, 75, 87, 89, 115, 121, 124 UN Korean Reconstruction Agency (UNKRA) 91 US Department of State 90–91 Venezuela 19 Vietnam 61, 82n3, 94, 99 Washington 50, 52–53, 56, 73, 86, 88 World Peace Council (WPC) 90 World War II 49, 89–90 Yeonpyeong 61, 113, 116, 125, 128n8