What is Kongchŏn?

A campaign poster in Wŏnju for a candidate in Saenuri-dang, Korea’s conservative majority party. (Author’s own image)

It’s election season again in Korea! Campaign posters have gone up all over and candidates have begun meeting with voters in earnest. Local politicians are up for election this year, which includes city and provincial council members and city mayors. It’s an exciting time to be in Korea for a researcher of gender and politics, since this year is the first election after the inauguration of Korea’s first woman president, Park Geun-hye.

There’s a lot to look forward to in this year’s elections, but first we have to get through the kongchŏn stage of the pre-campaign process. For those unfamiliar with Korean politics, the kongchŏn causes a great deal of confusion. Bewilderment is a natural reaction given that the process differs by party, region, and election year. I will try to deconstruct the kongchŏn enigma, and hopefully it will help readers to understand some of the current events in Korean politics regarding the elections.

The Great Charade of Democracy: Minority Parties in Korea and the Kongchŏn Reform Debates

An enduring debate among Korean politicians has been the utility and fairness of the kongchŏn, or the Korean committee-based party candidate nomination system. The system is generally considered to be unfair, to the point of being downright corrupt. With each election comes renewed discussion of how to change the system. Newspapers and the political parties ask: Would primaries be a better option? How open should the primaries be? To what extent should the general public be involved in the candidate nomination process?

Despite their longevity, the kongchŏn debates prove time and again to be merely political spin.

Honoring False Idols: The Undue Pursuit of “Development” in Korean Scholarship

“Miracle on the Han River” by James Rhee and Pat V. for “Tiger and Bear Korea.” (c) James Topple and Colin Riddle. Used with permission from the authors.

Something I have noticed in my reading on politics in Korea is Korean academics’ fixation on the question of Korea’s level of “development.” Like the familiar chant of a young child on a long trip, they constantly ask themselves and their readers, “Is Korea ‘developed’ yet?” A release of statistics and rankings from the OECD can inspire either societal euphoria or panic in Korea, depending on the news. A recorded rise in living standards prompts (justifiably) celebratory columns of Korean economic policy and Koreans’ work ethic in Seoul dailies. On the other hand, last year’s announcement of South Korea’s low global ranking in terms of gender equality incited an anxious return to the question of Korea’s level of economic and social development. While Koreans reap the fruits of the “Miracle on the Han River” daily–a subway system far cleaner and efficient than any line in most areas of the world, high-speed internet nearly everywhere in Korea, relatively clean air and high environmental standards, and other comforts of a modern lifestyle–the memory of Korea’s less comfortable past continues to lurk in the minds of Korean intellectuals and haunt casual discussion of Korean economics and politics.