Power Grab

Tanks rumbled into Seoul last week and took up positions in front of the National Assembly, the capitol, the opposition-party headquarters and newspaper offices. Troops surrounded the house of the editor of Seoul's biggest daily and quickly turned Yonsei University into an armed camp. Then, in a pre-recorded television speech, President Park Chung Hee informed South Koreans that he was proclaiming martial law and dissolving the National Assembly. He also banned all political activities, closed the universities and imposed tight censorship on the press.

Park, who first took power in a military coup eleven years ago, cryptically declared that his move was necessary to reform the political structure, control "irresponsible political parties" and ease the problems of reunification with North Korea. He said that draft amendments to the constitution will be announced this week and put to a national referendum next month. He also expressed fear that "the interests of smaller countries might be sacrificed" as a result of the U.S.-China detente --meaning that the U.S. would no longer automatically and fully back any regime just because it is antiCommunist.

In fact, Park's real motive appears to have been to enhance and prolong his own power. There has been none of the political instability, social unrest or economic chaos that ordinarily precedes martial law. Park already had sweeping powers under a state of emergency declared last December. These powers, invoked on the grounds of an "imminent attack" from North Korea, were used to stifle the political opposition. His new action, moreover, appears to have increased tensions and imperiled the talks with North Korea--the opposite of his stated intentions. Radio Pyongyang last week charged that Park had acted "to dampen the desire and aspiration of the South Korean people for peaceful reunification."

Park's move came as an embarrassing surprise to Washington, which over the past two years has watched Cambodia, South Viet Nam, Thailand and the Philippines--nations once known as "Free Asia"--shed the last vestiges of democracy. The U.S. at present has more ground troops (43,000) in South Korea than in South Viet Nam and annually provides Park's regime with $240 million in economic aid. Washington informed Park that it saw no justification for the imposition of martial law. U.S. disenchantment deepened after Park forwarded a confidential outline of his constitutional proposals. As everyone suspected, it indicated that Park is planning an extension of his presidential term, which under the constitution is due to expire in 1975.

The South Korean President has shown a hunger for extraordinary power before. In 1969 he had the constitution amended to permit him to run for a third four-year term. He won that term in last year's voting, but not nearly as handily as he had anticipated. Kim Dae Jung, leader of the New Democratic Party and a relatively unknown politician at the time, polled 46% of the popular vote on a campaign against Park's police-state methods and in favor of peaceful reunification. At the same time, Park's Democratic Republican Party lost its two-thirds majority in the Assembly, while the opposition doubled its strength to 89 seats.

In Tokyo, where he was visiting (and decided to remain for the time being), Kim denounced Park's action. "His stated reason that the constitution requires revision is a hollow excuse," he said. "Nearly everyone in South Korea already supports reunification of the country."

On a visit to Seoul last week, TIME'S Tokyo Bureau Chief Herman Nickel found an Orwellian atmosphere. "When you enter the door to the biggest newspaper, Dong-a Ilbo," he cabled, "you have to watch out that you don't get scraped in the face by the bayonets that two grim-looking paratroopers hold crossed on their M16s. For obvious reasons, it was hard to get much comment from Koreans. But passers-by appeared visibly startled when they saw the big American-made M48 tank menacingly pointing its gun from the entrance of the National Assembly. A soldier waved the bayonet of his M-16 at us when we photographed the tank and ordered us to wait for an officer, who fortunately let us go. It seemed an odd turn of events in a land where two decades ago 34,000 Americans died in what was then billed as the defense of the free world."

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