Five years on, Kim had decided to pick pragmatism this time. In the Dec. 19 election, that meant Lee Myung Bak of the opposition Grand National Party, a former Seoul mayor and business executive, who—unlike the chaotic and high-flying Roh—is down to earth, no-nonsense, and promised tangible results. That became especially appealing when South Korea’s economy slowed recently, with growth dropping to 5 percent annually (anemic by local standards) and youth unemployment hitting double digits. Lee, who has been accused of corruption—charges he denies—may not be pure, but he has a good record of getting things done. That’s something Roh never quite managed.
According to the latest surveys, Lee was expected to win with 40 percent of the vote, well ahead of Roh’s liberal successor, Chung Dong Young, and an ultraconservative independent. Lee had dominated the polls for more than a year, reflecting Roh’s dismal approval ratings, due largely to South Korea’s swooning economy and his incompetent management style. But Lee’s ascendancy also reflects a major shift among Korean voters away from the ideological flanks that long dominated politics here and toward the pragmatic middle. As South Korea’s contentious democracy has matured, locals have come to care more about problem solving than about angry regional, generational or ideological divides. Thus Korean elections are gradually becoming like American ones, says Kim Hyung Joon, a political scientist at Seoul’s Myongji University. “Those who win the middle ground” now carry the day.
That’s just the spot that Lee targeted. Though his party is known for its strong conservative streak and traditionally advocated small government and a tough stance toward North Korea, Lee offered a more flexible approach on a range of issues, including foreign policy and education. His pragmatism has angered ultra-conservatives in his own party and led some to support the breakaway candidate Lee Hoi Chang. On North Korea, this hardliner proposed scaling back inter-Korean exchanges, while the leftist Chung—a former minister of National Unification—campaigned as a “peace president” who would offer even more generous aid. Lee put himself smack between them, suggesting he’d continue the 10-year-old “sunshine policy” of engagement while demanding more reciprocity. That looks like a winning formula in the coming years.
Above all, Lee projects competence. Born to an extremely poor farming family, the self-educated 66-year-old went on to run Hyundai, helping turn the small contractor into a global giant. Nicknamed Korea’s “most successful salaryman,” Lee also proved a very successful mayor of Seoul, a metropolis of 10 million, for four years. Under his rule, the city became greener and its notorious traffic lightened up a bit.
All that proved a stark contrast to Roh, who launched an ambitious reform program that included radical measures designed to expand welfare and ease social inequality—but that largely failed to pass, due to Roh’s inexperience. Young voters, who had disproportionately supported Roh in 2002 (to the tune of about 60 percent), have now turned to Lee, hoping he will use his management expertise to create jobs and revive the economy. “Young voters are now very realistic,” says Kim Woo Sang at Seoul’s Yonsei University. “They no longer dream of a utopia with perfect politicians.”
This realism may also help explain why Korean voters seemed unconcerned with the various corruption scandals that might otherwise have tarnished Lee’s reputation. Estimated to be worth about $40 million, Lee has long been accused of stock manipulation, among other crimes. Although prosecutors cleared him of the stock charges in early December, much of the population still suspects him of impropriety. What’s remarkable is that they don’t seem to care: the accusations haven’t touched Lee’s popularity. As he coasted toward victory in mid-December, he promised “a leadership that solves, not causes, problems.” That may not prove exciting or dramatic. But it’s just what South Korea needs these days.
