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1979 by forcing Park and his developmental state into a risky strategy of repression and confrontation.
The paradoxical coexistence of a strong state and a contentious civil society during Park’s political rule constitutes two sides of the same coin.
South Korea’s strong state was also a hard state that, for the sake of hypergrowth, refused to develop a dense web of institutional linkages to social forces, which Park thought cost state autonomy, damaged technocratic rationality, and required budget support. However, by refusing to institutionalize the politics of give-and-take, the state also left itself vulnerable to challenges from below. The question is why those challengers turned out to be the chaeya rather than the farmers and the workers. By analyzing the dissidents’ changing ideological visions, diffuse yet cohesive inmaek (human networks), social support bases, and complementary but also competing relationships with social forces as well as opposition politicians, Chapter 13 traces the roots of the chaeya’s ability to engage the state in continual political contests despite its members’ organizational weakness.
That the chaeya made up a nonparty, non-interest-group, extra-parliamentary opposition movement formed outside the chedogwôn is clear. That this form of opposition was consciously chosen by its members, who envisioned the chaeya foremost as a group of activist intellectuals standing above politics to speak for moral principles and to guard national interests, is also obvious. However, such a broadly agreed-upon combination of identity, mission, and role did not mean that the chaeya developed in predictable ways. On the contrary, the moral principles and national interests for which they were to speak were anything but obvious. The political strategy, coalition partners, and ideational innovation required for the chaeya to transform into a guardian of those moral principles and national interests were even less clear. Consequently, there was no one static chaeya to speak of during Park’s rule. Rather, it was a constantly evolving group of intellectual activists, maintaining their raison d’être as a moralistically packaged political force of nonparty and non-interest-group activists, but undergoing a qualitative change in ideology, organization, societal base, and relationship with opposition party politicians in 1964–1965, 1969, 1970, and 1972–1979.
First, ideologically the myth is that the chaeya were a collection of born radicals, if not leftists. The reality was the opposite. Many of the founders of South Korea’s modern chaeya were Christian refugees from the North and took a staunch anticommunist stand. Yet these same activists steadily radicalized as Park evolved from a military coup leader with a reformist agenda (1961–1963) to a popularly elected “soft-authoritarian” modern-
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izer (1963–1972) to a security czar with a “yushin” dictatorship (1972–
1979). The chaeya evolved in tandem with Park, from anticommunist to pro-democracy activists, from pro-American to nationalist agitators, and from conservative reformers to radical supporters of distributive justice. Three historical events, in particular, profoundly reshaped the chaeya movement. By opposing the normalization of relations with Japan in 1964, the chaeya became a force of Korean nationalism very early in their history. The 1969 struggle against the constitutional revision to clear the way for Park’s third presidential term added the image of freedom fighters. The profound soul-searching precipitated within the chaeya by the public suicide of Chôn T’ae-il in 1970 ushered in another popular image—this time, as social reformers on the side of the oppressed minjung (people).
Because it was historical events rather than some preconceived theoretical or ideological worldview through which the chaeya added new political identities on top of their founding generation’s anticommunist conservatism, the chaeya movements’ ideology at the end of the journey in their struggle against Park was an amalgam of diverse—even contradictory—
norms, values, and ideas. At the close of the yushin era, the chaeya were anticommunist, nationalist, Christian, liberal democratic, and social reformist.2 But this did not prevent the chaeya from becoming a major force in South Korea. On the contrary, by being a number of things at the same time, they were able to appeal to a diverse array of societal forces. The chaeya activists’ critique of authoritarian rule stoked the sense of injustice, anger, and hostility within society and persuaded a sizable number of students, workers, and members of the urban poor to join the intelligentsia-led moral crusade against Park. To be sure, their strength in attracting multiclass support also became a source of political weakness by obstructing them from building a consistent ideological platform. Nevertheless, they were still able to challenge Park and his regime because sharing a common enemy provided them with a group identity despite their diverse ideological origins.
Second, organizationally the chaeya formed a horizontal network.
However, as the activists’ identity expanded from nationalists to freedom fighters to social reformers, and as Park tightened his capacity for political control and repression, the chaeya, emerging from a geographically dispersed and ideologically heterogeneous rank and file, increasingly needed to supplement this horizontal network with a national umbrella organization to orchestrate a synchronized attack on the regime. The experiment began with the chaeya’s attempts at opposing the normalization of relations with Japan in 1964 and blocking Park from revising the constitution in 1969. With the slide into authoritarian rule, the chaeya furthered their
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organizational experiment, establishing the National Council for the Safeguard of Democracy in 1971, the People’s Congress for the Restoration of Democracy in 1974, the National Coalition for Democracy in 1978, and the National Coalition for Democracy and Unification in 1979. Rather than forming a tightly knit hierarchical organization on a permanent basis, the chaeya preferred to coalesce and disband as event-driven opportunities arose and disappeared. The hit-and-run strategy of guerrilla warfare not only provided the chaeya with political flexibility but also ensured the autonomy of its members. Besides, that strategy was the only way to fight the garrison state and escape its tight surveillance.
In addition to these efforts to establish a single umbrella organization at the national level to coordinate opposition efforts, the chaeya engaged in institutional innovations at the local and sectoral levels. A diverse array of church groups coalesced into the National Catholic Priests for the Realization of Justice and the Korean National Council of Churches. There were also the Korean Urban Industrial Christian Missionaries and the Young Catholic Workers, organized to empower the workers. Still others organized into myriad human rights watch groups. From these organizations was to emerge the second generation of religious chaeya leaders: Protestant ministers Kim Sang-g¤n, Yi Hae-dong, Cho S¤ng-hyôk, O Ch’ung-il, and In Myông-jin; Catholic priests Kim S¤ng-hun, Ham Se-ung, and Mun Chông-hyôn; and Buddhist monk Chin Kwan. On the other hand, it was from the student movements, singularly notable for their intensity and persistence, that the third generation of chaeya leaders emerged: Yi Pu-yông, Chang Ki-pyo, Kim K¤n-t’ae, Kim Chi-ha, Cho Yông-rae, Yi Sin-bôm, Yi Ch’ang-bok, Yi Ch’ôl, Yu In-t’ae, Sim Chae-gwôn, Cho Sông-u, Yi U-je, Na Pyông-sik, Pak Kye-dong, and Han Kyông-nam.
Third, throughout the history of chaeya development, religious groups constituted its most critical ally. The churches and temples provided a sanctuary for chaeya activists to hide from the police, as well as to organize political protests beyond the reach of the authorities. The church also tapped its extensive organizational network to raise funds for the chaeya on a regular basis. With the press under severe censorship, the church functioned as a “counter-media” as well, alongside underground study groups on the university campuses, disseminating contentious political ideas to a wide circle of people through many forms of publication. Consequently, wherever the chaeya did not have a well-developed activist-led local organization, it came to be the church that served as the f
ocal point of the opposition. Through church networks, religious sermons, and church pamphlets, the chaeya coordinated the strategy of opposition among its rank-and-file members dispersed across diverse regions. The knowledge
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that other regions were waging struggles similar to theirs built up the local chaeya activists’ confidence that they would eventually be victorious.
Equally important, the religious community helped the chaeya expand their agendas of political resistance and develop their identity as a force of liberation by providing a set of new values, norms, and ideas. The transformative impact of religion on the chaeya was most visible in the areas of human rights and labor issues. Equipped with the Christian notion of
“natural rights,” the church lashed out against the yushin regime’s human rights violations. The church–state confrontation dramatically escalated when radical sectors of the religious community began importing liberation theology and embraced the right to a minimum standard of living as an integral part of human rights after the tragic death of Chôn T’ae-il, a garment factory worker in one of the Ch’ôngyech’ôn sweat shops, in 1970. The clergy-intelligentsia coalition led the Korean Urban Industrial Christian Missionaries, Christian Academy, and Young Catholic Workers in organizing militant trade unions, especially in small- and medium-sized enterprises, where the working conditions were dismal. Fourth, the development of the chaeya as a political force was tied to the changing nature of political parties and electoral politics, especially the opposition strategy of the New Democratic Party (NDP), in complex ways. Ironically, it was the profound weakness of the National Assembly and the political parties that gave birth to the chaeya and fueled its continuous growth. Lacking the channels of representation and deprived of effective spokesmen for their economic interests and political values, South Korean societal forces turned to the intelligentsia-led chaeya for an alternative leadership. South Koreans may not have agreed on the specifics of the chaeya’s political agenda and especially its reconciliatory views toward North Korea, but they valued its role in placing what checks and balances it could on the Park regime, a role that the National Assembly failed to play and that the NDP only partially fulfilled. The lack of autonomous interest groups capable of organizing the workers and farmers made the intelligentsia-led chaeya even more the voice of societal interests.
The chaeya– NDP relationship was driven by forces of both collaboration and competition. When political interests converged, as in their common struggle to oppose the 1964 normalization of relations with Japan, the 1969 constitutional revision, and the 1972 promulgation of the yushin regime, the two collaborated closely by taking complementary roles, with the chaeya supporting the NDP through its moral authority and its army of student activists and the NDP providing the chaeya with an opportunity to shape national politics. The height of their collaboration came when the NDP, emboldened by its victory in the 1978 National Assembly elections
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and prodded by chaeya activists, elected “unyielding” Kim Young-sam over “compromising” Yi Ch’ôl-s¤ng as its party leader the next year. The subsequent explosion of chaeya protests and NDP struggles drove a fatal split between “soft-liner” Kim Chae-gyu’s Korea Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA) and “hard-liner” Ch’a Chi-ch’ôl’s Presidential Security Service (PSS) over how to deal with the chaeya– NDP challenge, which sowed the seeds for Park’s downfall in October 1979.
The complementarity of NDP– chaeya political roles, however, should not be overdrawn. The two joined forces to bring down the yushin in 1979, but during Yi Ch’ôl-s¤ng’s NDP leadership (1976–1979), their relationship showed signs of strain. Whereas the chaeya adopted a strategy of intransigent opposition during most of Park’s political rule, exposing his regime’s moral faults, articulating social agendas, organizing popular forces, and escalating political confrontation with an eye to triggering a radical change of political regime and, after 1970, also of socioeconomic institutions, NDP party bosses typically stopped short of embracing regime change as their top priority except during Kim Young-sam’s 1979 assault on Park and his yushin regime. Fighting for votes in a society whose memories of Pyôngyang’s military invasion in 1950 were still vivid, South Korea’s opposition party could not let itself become a mere replica of radical chaeya activists, lest it acquire the vote-losing image of a leftist party.
Even in 1979 with “unyielding” Kim Young-sam in charge, NDP bosses had their eyes focused on restoring liberal democratic principles rather than on bringing about a deeper socioeconomic transformation. Consequently, chaeya activists were always ahead of NDP bosses in expanding their agendas of political resistance, making the chaeya and the NDP not only players of complementary roles in political struggles against Park but also competitors occupying different ends of the opposition ideological spectrum. They looked like a united political force, but they were not. The endpoints of their political struggles against Park were different.
Early Chaeya Activists
Treaty Crisis and Nationalist Ethos, 1964–1965
When Park took power in May 1961, he met almost no resistance from university students or civic activists. On the contrary, many leaders of the protest movements that had brought down Syngman Rhee (1948–1960) and carried Chang Myôn’s Democratic Party into power in 1960 had publicly endorsed Park in the belief that he espoused the political ideals of
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those earlier student-led uprisings. Some of the activists even looked to the military, dominated by Kim Chong-p’il’s young eighth graduating class of the Korea Military Academy, as the heirs to their 1960 student revolution to bring about a national rejuvenation.3 Park actively encouraged such a perception. “Whereas the April Nineteenth Student Revolution succeeded only in toppling Syngman Rhee [without bringing a change of system through reform],” Park declared, “the May Sixteenth Military Revolution will lash out against the system [that survived the demise of Syngman Rhee]. The military will attack its democratic disguise and overthrow it from inside.”4
The early support for the military coup was nowhere more visible than in Sasanggye, a magazine that served as a public forum for leading intellectuals. The June 1961 issue declared that “the Military Revolution of May 16, 1961, constitute[s] the last effort to save the nation from the dire predicament it faced. [Park has led] a nationalistic military revolution aiming to wipe out corruption and disorder, to preempt communist subversions, and to guide the future of the nation onto the right path. The military ha[s]
embarked on an inevitable course of action in light of the exigency confronting South Korea.”5 The positive appraisal of Sasanggye, whose leaders were to become the founding generation of South Korea’s modern chaeya movements after 1964, was due to its radical conservatism. Most of the founding generation of the chaeya—including Ham Sôk-hôn,6 Kye Hun-je,7 Mun Ik-hwan,8 Chang Chun-ha,9 Paek Ki-wan,10 An Pyông-mu,11
and Yi Yông-h¤i12—were refugees from North Korea, deeply immersed in Christianity and staunchly anticommunist due to their experience with communist rule during the post-liberation years of left–right conflict.13
The early enthusiasm of Sasanggye waned as the military junta turned to political repression and approached Japan for normalization of diplomatic relations. These two issues were to trigger political turmoil in 1964, pitting university students and intellectuals against Park and his Democratic Republican Party (DRP) in open conflict. The Sasanggye was at the center of this transformation of the progressive wing of South Korea’s intelligentsia.
First, the conflict involved a clash of two opposing worldviews—pragmatism and moralism, realism and idealism—over how to interpret Korean nationalism, what to make of its political mission, goals, and functions, and who “owned” it as a spokesperson for the national ethos. Whereas Park took the stand of a pragmatic leader ready to ask society to hold back its national pride and restrai
n anti-Japanese sentiments in order to gain Japanese reparation funds with which to build “a rich nation and a strong army” (puguk kangbyông), the chaeya took a moralistic posture. Unfor-
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giving where Japan’s colonial exploitation was concerned, the chaeya opposed the normalization of relations unless Japan unambiguously apologized for its past wrongdoings.
Second, it was a clash of two ideologically diverging paradigms of modernization. Against Park’s economic strategy of “growth first, distribution later,” which he justified not only in terms of what was required in a resource-poor country that needed to modernize but also in his belief that the benefits of growth would “trickle down” through the market, the chaeya spoke for distributive justice. In the area of political rights, too, a sharp division emerged. Whereas Park rejected Western democracy in favor of what he called “administrative” or “guided” Korean democracy, the chaeya was propelled by a vision of Western liberal values. The defining feature of its top leadership’s ideology was procedural democracy, not populism, let alone Marxism-Leninism, which Park claimed was its hidden agenda.
The gap was unbridgeable. Park pushed for the normalization of relations with Japan to secure a new source of funding for economic development and to lay the groundwork for a trilateral security collaboration between Seoul, Tokyo, and Washington through a tightening of America’s system of cold war bilateral military alliances, whereas university students, opposition party politicians, and dissident intellectuals demanded Japan’s unambiguous apology for its colonial wrongdoings as a prerequisite for progress in bilateral relations. On March 9, 1964, in lieu of any such apology and wary of the danger that Japanese money might be channeled to DRP fund-raisers, the opposition political parties joined with some two hundred leaders of civil society to establish the National Committee for Opposition to Humiliating Diplomacy toward Japan and began staging protests nationwide. Initially, the opposition defined its protest movements as a struggle against Park’s betrayal of Korean nationalism. Eventually, participants zeroed in on the political system Park personified as the target of resistance. Severely criticizing Park’s notion of “nationalistic democracy” as authoritarian, student activists held a “funeral for nationalistic democracy” on May 20. They also denied Park’s claim that he was the successor to the ideals of the April Nineteenth Student Revolution. On the contrary, in their eyes, Park was a reactionary coup-maker—not a revolutionary—who had reversed the historical tides of anticolonialism and antifeudalism embodied in their earlier protests.14
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