Rebels Without a Pause

By John Greenwald

While unrest was sweeping South Korea last week, Kim Dae Jung, the country's most famous opposition politician, stayed home. He had no choice: for the past ten weeks Kim has been under house arrest, his modest two-story residence in a Seoul suburb surrounded by 500 to 600 police. He and the eight aides confined with him can use the telephone and receive domestic newspapers, but no visitors are allowed inside. That isolation is an apt emblem of the country's weak and divided political opposition. A foe of virtually every regime since the South Korean republic was founded, the dissident parties have been persecuted by each military-backed government and denied any real share of power.

Last week's student-led protests could help change that. By demanding free elections, the demonstrators are advancing the formal opposition's most cherished goal. Says Kim Young Sam, president of the Reunification Democratic Party, the main opposition faction: "There is no solution to the present crisis unless the government agrees to our demands for a direct presidential election. The government has been driven to the wall."

While many South Koreans believe opponents of President Chun Doo Hwan would win such a vote, others view the opposition with a distrust that borders on disdain. "We don't find the politicians on either side very attractive," says an influential South Korean businessman. "The opposition leaders are appealing only because they favor democracy and oppose this government."

South Koreans have had decades to size up the two principal opposition leaders. Kim Dae Jung, 63, and Kim Young Sam, 59, who are neither related nor particularly close friends, have been active in antigovernment party circles since the 1950s. The older Kim, a stubborn politician and charismatic speaker, won 45% of the vote in the 1971 presidential election. In 1980 he was tried by a military court and sentenced to death for inciting students to rise against the government. After the sentence was first commuted to life in prison and then reduced to 20 years, Kim was permitted to go to the U.S. in 1982. Since his return in 1985, the devoutly Roman Catholic Kim has been banned from political activities and kept under 24-hour surveillance. Yet he remains a powerful force behind the scenes, advising opposition leaders by telephone and devising political strategies.

With Kim Dae Jung under house arrest, Kim Young Sam has assumed a larger role in opposition affairs. A small, lively man who jogs for 45 minutes each morning and serves as a Presbyterian elder, the younger Kim has become highly visible around Seoul. He scuffled briefly with security forces last week when he theatrically sought access to Kim Dae Jung's house. The encounter won him some publicity and a bruised leg, which he proudly displayed to journalists.

The two Kims can be as rigid and unyielding as President Chun. They showed that last April, when they broke away from what used to be the main opposition faction, the New Korea Democrats, to form the Reunification Party. At issue was a power struggle with Lee Min Woo, a leader of the older party, who was willing to compromise with the government on the shape of national elections in exchange for concessions that included greater press freedom and the release of political prisoners. The Kims' walkout left Lee's New Korea Democrats with a greatly reduced bloc of 22 seats in the 276-seat National Assembly, compared with 69 seats for the Reunification Democrats.

Ironically, the Kims and Chun share some views. While the opposition leaders demand a full range of basic democratic freedoms, they largely agree with Chun on economic and foreign policies. The Kims would preserve the government and military bureaucracies, and make no major foreign policy shifts. Nor would they disband the giant trading houses that have helped propel South Korea's rapid growth. "We can live with the opposition's economic program," says one businessman.

Such similarities have led some student radicals to regard the opposition and the government as virtually indistinguishable. "The Reunification Party is not the same as my movement," says one demonstrator. "They want to have power and hold political office. We want only to bring democracy and freedom."

The recent unrest, however, has brought the opposition and the students closer together. "We do need the party to help us organize," concedes a young demonstrator. Operating under the umbrella of the newly formed National Coalition for a Democratic Constitution, students and Reunification Party leaders have joined with church and human-rights groups to plan many of the recent protests. Government forces have responded by arresting 13 top Reunification Democrats, including Vice President Yang Soon Jik.

The opposition's bond with the students remains fragile. "Both the government and its opponents face serious dilemmas," says William Gleysteen, U.S. Ambassador to South Korea from 1978 to 1981. "The opposition may enjoy the spectacle of a widespread antigovernment movement, but it has no control over the demonstrators. The students may be antigovernment, but they do not necessarily support the opposition politicians. The best way out of this dilemma is for both the opposition and the government to ease the tension and begin direct talks." That might end the street violence, but finding a set of concessions the opposition can agree on could prove more difficult.

With reporting by Oscar Chiang/New York and Barry Hillenbrand/Seoul