Chung Un-chan
The author, a former president of Seoul National University, is the chairman of the Korea Institute for Shared Growth.
A scene both shocking and disheartening unfolded on Aug. 1. The special counsel team investigating Kim Keon Hee sought to execute a warrant against former President Yoon Suk Yeol, who is currently in custody, citing his refusal to cooperate with questioning. According to accounts, Yoon resisted by stripping off his prison garb, remaining in only his underclothes. Days later, investigators returned with a team of more than 10 prison guards to forcibly bring him in. When Yoon continued to resist, seated and unmoving, they allegedly attempted to lift the chair with him still in it. In the struggle, the former president fell to the floor and was injured before the investigators finally withdrew.
This is incomprehensible. As a former prosecutor general, a former president and simply a citizen, Yoon should have complied with humility and sincerity. Yet the conduct of the special counsel's office was equally troubling. For all his grave misconduct, he was nonetheless elected just three years ago. Was it truly necessary to stage a humiliating spectacle of forced arrest? If persuasion failed, could they not have proceeded to indictment? Even beyond questions of law, should there not have been space for discretion, for a measure of dignity? Without such allowances, our society risks becoming barren of compassion.
The spectacle did not end there. The prosecutors briefed the press in detail about Yoon's physical state at the time, down to his clothing. Foreign media seized on the imagery, running headlines such as, "Former President Refuses Questioning, Lying on Floor in Underwear." Commentators went further, mocking Korea as a nation that may have achieved dazzling economic and cultural growth but still lags in democratic maturity. I cannot help but regard Aug. 1 as a day of national disgrace.
A century and a decade ago, on Aug. 29, 1910, the humiliation of lost sovereignty stemmed from a lack of national power. Today's humiliation arises from a deficit of national dignity. And because it is self-inflicted, the sting is even sharper.
How did our nation's standing sink to such a shabby state? In years when many Koreans struggled simply to eat, society still drew upon Confucian virtues such as the samgang oryun - the "three bonds and five relationships" - and a spirit of communal duty to endure, eventually building the economy we know today. But as growth accelerated, disparities in wealth, region and corporate size accumulated. Politics devolved into endless partisan strife. Ordinary citizens themselves became consumed with ideological battles. In such conditions, the restoration of dignity feels evermore remote. Genuine recovery of common sense and civic grace will require deep self-reflection by political leaders, the spread of a philosophy of shared growth and the voluntary participation of civil society.
During my time in government, I helped launch a "National Campaign for Dignity," aimed at raising awareness at home and abroad. In 2010 - the 65th anniversary of liberation and the 60th of the Korean War - we welcomed many heads of state and veterans. We expressed gratitude for past solidarity and introduced Korea's history, culture and etiquette with care.
After leaving office, I sought to carry on the spirit in small ways. When asked for an autograph in a modest restaurant, I would leave a short note: "Delicious food, generous hospitality, and kindness from the heart elevate the dignity of the nation. Thank you." A warm phrase, I believe, endures longer and spreads further than any slogan.
I have also witnessed how words and manners can change culture. At Seoul Theological University, then under President Yoo Seok-sung, I was welcomed with open smiles and casual greetings from both students and faculty. The school was practicing what it called the "HTS Movement" - encouraging everyone on campus t...
