The law prohibits public servants, employees in the public office and state agencies, teachers and journalists from accepting any gifts, money or monetary equivalent valued at more than a certain amount, which is not a huge one. Lunch or dinner “on the house” shall be limited to a maximum of $25, and gifts to $43, which can be doubled ($85) when they are given on family events such as weddings or at the birth of a child. If the value of the gift exceeds this amount, the offender shall be fined, and if it is more than $850, criminal penalties shall be imposed.
Moreover, all this applies to any kind of favors. Prior to the new law, there was a penalty for bribery. However, it was only applied after confirming a connection between the received money, gifts, treats and the activities of civil servants. Under the new law, it is no longer necessary to prove the purpose behind receiving the gift, and no excuses shall be taken into consideration.
Possible fees for lectures were also stipulated. The cost of the first hour of a lecture by a minister, for example, cannot exceed $425, and the first hour of a lecture by a fifth grade civil servant – $170. All subsequent hours shall be paid at a rate of half the original amount. Lectures by journalists and private school teachers can cost a maximum of $850 per hour, regardless of the position of lecturer.
What accounts for such seemingly draconian laws? The fact is that the specifics of corruption and its perception in the Republic of Korea are quite different from those in Russia and many other countries. In Russia, in particular, corruption usually involves the transfer of a specific bribe in exchange for a concrete action, and this is often an exchange of ‘envelopes’ instead of elaborate gifts. Accordingly, when it comes to the investigation, the bribe-giver is stigmatized more than the bribe-taker, excluding cases of frank extortion of bribes.
In Korea, as in Russia, corruption is perceived as a “necessary evil”, but its mechanism is different: As a rule, the briber cultivates a relationship with an official, and begins to pro-actively flatter and charm him: Presenting him with gifts, entertaining him and inviting him for meals on the house, paying for his travel or shopping expenses. Thus, between him and the official, a personal rather than formal relationship is formed and when, at some point, the businessman makes a request associated with moral obligations, the official cannot refuse.
Naturally, this model is much more difficult to “label” as corruption, since the process of proving the corruption took place means needing to establish a link between a specific gift and a particular service, while a particular businessman could claim that he dined the official simply out of friendship, without any kind of ulterior motives. Yes, it is clear to everyone what is going on, and we weren’t born yesterday, but this understanding alone, as they say, isn’t enough to “close the case”.
Therefore, since the late 1990s, South Korea’s anti-corruption legislation began to try to prohibit or restrict all informal contact with officials made by potential bribe-givers, since all “holidays on the house” were the equivalent of trying to hand over bribes. This, incidentally, was the main component of the corruption scandal that was associated with President Kim Dae-jung’s children, who went on holiday with the wrong company. It was assumed that the potential bribers simply did not have time to voice their demands, or that the right time still had not come for them.
This is one side of the coin, but there is another – a certain personalism and tradition of painting official relationships in a personal tone was and remains an integral part of the Korean administrative culture. This applies to paternalism within the company, and “fraternal” relations of this kind. Personalism, as it were, softens the rigid formalism and hierarchy of the Korean corporate culture. The boss takes the role of a father that can yell and even throw an ashtray, but in a critical situation, is someone you can talk to like a father, and not just as a cold leader who is only concerned about giving instructions. That is why critics of strict anti-corruption laws always claim that they are throwing away the baby with the bathwater, which, in this case, takes the form of the developed system of informal relations that are rapidly being destroyed and are difficult to restore.
In addition, it is important to remember that the fight against corruption is a traditional political tool. They were actively used by Kim Dae-jung and Roh Moo-hyun, who himself became a victim of a corruption scandal, and was forced to atone for his guilt by committing suicide in order to avoid further revelations that were throwing a very unpleasant shadow over his political reputation.
Under Lee Myung-bak, whose corruption case was only suspended in connection with the fact that he became president, the issue of corruption faded into the background, and the special anti-corruption body was restructured until it had completely lost its core functionality.
Today, Park Geun-hye is once again trying to use an anti-corruption rhetoric, primarily against her right-wing opponents. Therefore, it is no wonder that the Parliament, which is dominated by the opposition, proceeded to make amendments to the new law. Park Geun-hye herself is considered to possess a spotless reputation, and, therefore, is likely to avoid such scandals. As for other political bosses or presidential candidates, time will tell to what extent the new law will play a role in the nation’s internal politics.
Konstantin Asmolov, Ph.D. in History, Chief Research Fellow at the Center for Korean studies of the Institute of Far Eastern Studies of the Russian Academy of Sciences, exclusively for the online magazine “New Eastern Outlook.”
