Acting Like Big Brother

A new President is sworn in--as the generals keep watch

I am happy to have found good cause for my death and do not want to beg for my life. Give me the capital punishment but show mercy to the others." For Kim Jae Kyu, former Korean Central Intelligence Agency chief accused of murdering President Park Chung Hee last Oct. 26, the words were a defiant attempt to assume total responsibility for the assassination, for which six accomplices were also charged. His plea was in vain. Last week Kim, standing haggard and unshaven before a military tribunal in Seoul, was condemned to death with six others for his abortive coup attempt, which was described by one of the defendants as having been "like a rebellion in a medieval court."

The swift completion of the trial reflected the sense of urgency on the part of Park's elected successor, Choi Kyu Hah, to try to keep the country on the path to normality after the trauma of the assassination. Yet Choi himself, who was formally inaugurated as President last week, the day after the Kim verdict, had far more on his mind than retribution for Park's slaying. For one thing, Seoul was still swirling with apprehensions in the wake of the stunning, couplike arrest of the former martial law commander, General Chung Seung Hwa, and a dozen other senior officers by a group of aggressive younger generals. For another, U.S. diplomats and military leaders in the capital who had previously stood aloof were now actively urging that the South Korean military keep clear of politics, and that Choi's civilian post-Park regime try to broaden its popular base. Reason: a major fear in Washington that if internecine mistrust in South Korea's top military leadership gets much worse, it might render the country dangerously open to invasion by the Communist regime in North Korea.

On the surface, Choi continued to receive the support of the officialdom, including the military, and high marks from most observers. His Cabinet, sworn in before his own inauguration, seemed to be both neutral and competent. Selected as Prime Minister was Shin Hyon Hwack, a technocrat and former economic planning chief. The new Defense Minister was General Choo Young Bok, known as "Tiger Choo" to American officers in Seoul, and, curiously, the first South Korean Defense Minister with a knowledge of English good enough for direct communication with U.S. commanders. According to President Choi's earlier promise, the newly installed Cabinet's most important immediate task was supposed to be the preparation of a political breakthrough: the systematic revision of Park's sternly authoritarian 1972 "Yushin" constitution.

Now, however, there were signs that the younger generals who had staged their minicoup against General Chung, a reputed moderate, might be in no hurry for reform, but more inclined to a continuation of Park's own hard-line approach. Major General Chun Du Hwan, the army security commander who had led the arrests and appeared to have become the dominant military figure, was maintaining a low public profile and public silence. The new martial law commander, General Lee Hee Sung, however, last week issued a statement that seemed to convey a strong sense of military Big Brother. "Trust the military," the general implored, and get on with everyday duties. General Lee did affirm that Korea's armed forces "should not meddle in politics," but at the same time he attacked what he called the politicians' and dissidents' "terminologies and method of agitation" and their "toadyism" toward "foreign forces." Observers translated this as criticism of those opposition politicians who insist on being outspoken, especially with the foreign press and diplomats.

U.S. officials saw such warnings as emblematic of a new, almost resentful nationalism among generals like Chun and Lee. It was pointed out that the younger military men felt a less instinctive warmth toward the U.S. than their elders.

In Washington, in fact, there was concern that a Korean battalion under joint U.S.-Korean command had been deployed by Chun Du Hwan for his ar rest of the older generals on Dec. 12. The unit had been moved into Seoul from its position in the vulnerable "invasion corridor" south of the demilitarized zone without prior consultation with its overall commander, U.S. General John Wickham Jr.

Among many politicians and students on the left of the spectrum, there was a continuing undertow of anger against the former Park regime. Protest leaflets began to circulate in Seoul; they called on South Koreans to "rise up" against the kind of authoritarian system of rule that was modeled after Park. Said the diatribe: "The dictator is finally gone, but the Yushin system [Park's constitution] is still cheating farmers, small businessmen and other citizens." U.S. officials noted that domestic tensions like these might tend to spread if there was a decline in South Korea's economic performance, already handicapped by 24% inflation and a relatively modest 7% growth during 1979, compared with an average of 12% in recent years. Said one businessman in Seoul: "I doubt if you can get a loan for South Korea today at the same rate you could a month ago."

A potentially more serious worry in Washington was that South Korea's internal military disunity might lead to a wider, regional crisis, particularly with U.S. attention diverted by events in Iran. Officials observed that the last major crisis in Korea, the cap ture of the U.S.S. Pueblo in 1968, had occurred largely because the North Koreans saw the U.S. as being seriously distracted by the Viet Nam War. Though there is no sign yet of any direct North Korean exploitation of the South's internal distractions, Pentagon planners were on the alert for it. Said one dryly: "It would be surprising if the North didn't think about it." -

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