South Korea has been a model of testing and tracing during the epidemic. Now it is for voting, too.
By John Delury, Published The Straits Times, 18 Apr 2020
SEOUL • The most important thing about South Korea's legislative elections earlier this week is the fact that they happened at all.
They were the world's first nationwide vote of the coronavirus era, and more than 29 million people - 66 per cent of the electorate, the highest turnout in nearly three decades - cast their ballots to choose 300 members for the National Assembly.
Each polling station was equipped with hand sanitiser and disposable gloves; voters, wearing masks and standing far apart, had their temperatures checked at the entrances.
No one seemed to feel they had to choose between exercising their democratic rights and protecting their health.
As with widespread testing, so, too, with record voter turnout: South Korea is again a beacon in dark times, a model for how an open society can weather the storm of a pandemic.
Who would have predicted this six weeks ago? At the end of February, South Korea held the dubious distinction of having the highest number of COVID-19 cases outside China.
Along with Italy and Iran, it was one of the first new hot spot countries, and a harbinger that the epidemic that started in Wuhan, in China's Hubei province, was on its way to becoming a pandemic.
I returned to Seoul with my family from an extended stay in Vietnam just as the number of daily infections was starting to spike: The airline we flew cancelled all its flights to and from South Korea not long after. For a harrowing spell in late February and early March, South Korea felt like ground zero.
Before the outbreak, President Moon Jae-in and his liberal coalition, the Democratic Party, were in the doldrums. Mr Moon had to let go of a controversial new justice minister and pull back on unpopular structural reforms, like a pledge to substantially raise the minimum wage. Economic growth was sluggish. Mr Moon's signature foreign policy of "peace and denuclearisation" diplomacy with North Korea was stuck in gear, paralysed by the lack of progress in negotiations between North Korean leader Kim Jong Un and US President Donald Trump.
The spike in coronavirus cases in late February amplified the voice of conservative critics, who slammed the government's decision not to ban all Chinese visitors. People grumbled about how hard it was to buy masks. Mr Moon's approval ratings slipped as South Korea, a country of resilient pessimists, braced itself for the worst.
How things have changed since then, in terms of both public health and political fortunes.
South Korea is steadily dropping in the rankings of countries worst-hit by the pandemic.
Once second only to China (population: about 1.4 billion), South Korea (population: 51.6 million) is now recording fewer total cases than Ireland (population: 4.9 million) and fewer deaths than the US state of Colorado (population: 5.7 million).
At the centre of its remarkable ability to flatten the coronavirus curve has been a government strategy of openness and responsiveness to the public. In other words, South Korea has drawn on its strengths as a liberal society to address the public health crisis - and this week its people doubled down on democracy by turning out in droves to re-elect its leadership.
As is now well known to the world, as early as late January, public health officials green-lighted efforts by the private sector to build up capacity for widespread testing for the coronavirus in case the outbreak got worse. Less well known is how, as those test results came in, the Korea Centres for Disease Control and Prevention and the Ministry of Public Health and Welfare made sure the information was passed on swiftly and systematically to those who needed it: the general public.
By John Delury, Published The Straits Times, 18 Apr 2020
SEOUL • The most important thing about South Korea's legislative elections earlier this week is the fact that they happened at all.
They were the world's first nationwide vote of the coronavirus era, and more than 29 million people - 66 per cent of the electorate, the highest turnout in nearly three decades - cast their ballots to choose 300 members for the National Assembly.
Each polling station was equipped with hand sanitiser and disposable gloves; voters, wearing masks and standing far apart, had their temperatures checked at the entrances.
No one seemed to feel they had to choose between exercising their democratic rights and protecting their health.
As with widespread testing, so, too, with record voter turnout: South Korea is again a beacon in dark times, a model for how an open society can weather the storm of a pandemic.
Who would have predicted this six weeks ago? At the end of February, South Korea held the dubious distinction of having the highest number of COVID-19 cases outside China.
Along with Italy and Iran, it was one of the first new hot spot countries, and a harbinger that the epidemic that started in Wuhan, in China's Hubei province, was on its way to becoming a pandemic.
I returned to Seoul with my family from an extended stay in Vietnam just as the number of daily infections was starting to spike: The airline we flew cancelled all its flights to and from South Korea not long after. For a harrowing spell in late February and early March, South Korea felt like ground zero.
Before the outbreak, President Moon Jae-in and his liberal coalition, the Democratic Party, were in the doldrums. Mr Moon had to let go of a controversial new justice minister and pull back on unpopular structural reforms, like a pledge to substantially raise the minimum wage. Economic growth was sluggish. Mr Moon's signature foreign policy of "peace and denuclearisation" diplomacy with North Korea was stuck in gear, paralysed by the lack of progress in negotiations between North Korean leader Kim Jong Un and US President Donald Trump.
The spike in coronavirus cases in late February amplified the voice of conservative critics, who slammed the government's decision not to ban all Chinese visitors. People grumbled about how hard it was to buy masks. Mr Moon's approval ratings slipped as South Korea, a country of resilient pessimists, braced itself for the worst.
How things have changed since then, in terms of both public health and political fortunes.
South Korea is steadily dropping in the rankings of countries worst-hit by the pandemic.
Once second only to China (population: about 1.4 billion), South Korea (population: 51.6 million) is now recording fewer total cases than Ireland (population: 4.9 million) and fewer deaths than the US state of Colorado (population: 5.7 million).
At the centre of its remarkable ability to flatten the coronavirus curve has been a government strategy of openness and responsiveness to the public. In other words, South Korea has drawn on its strengths as a liberal society to address the public health crisis - and this week its people doubled down on democracy by turning out in droves to re-elect its leadership.
As is now well known to the world, as early as late January, public health officials green-lighted efforts by the private sector to build up capacity for widespread testing for the coronavirus in case the outbreak got worse. Less well known is how, as those test results came in, the Korea Centres for Disease Control and Prevention and the Ministry of Public Health and Welfare made sure the information was passed on swiftly and systematically to those who needed it: the general public.
For weeks, my mobile phone buzzed throughout the day, alerting me to any confirmed COVID-19 cases in my neighbourhood and delivered useful details like the time at which an infected person had gone to the grocery store. Contact tracing and public data-sharing of the kind just beginning in hard-hit US states like Massachusetts have become standard features of daily life in South Korea.
That transparency, in turn, has allowed the government to rely largely on containment measures that are voluntary: Social distancing in South Korea is the subject of a public health campaign, not an order of the state. There has been no lockdown - not nationally and not even at the epicentre of the outbreak, the south-western city of Daegu, during the worst of the crisis.
This week's parliamentary elections were a referendum on Mr Moon's democratic approach to the COVID-19 pandemic, and South Korean voters handed him a resounding victory.
The Democratic Party won in a landslide, capturing (along with its satellite party) an estimated 180 seats and securing the largest majority in decades. Voters punished Mr Moon's critics, with the leader of the conservative United Future Party losing his race - to Mr Lee Nak-yon, Mr Moon's former prime minister and a future contender for the presidency - and immediately stepping down. A rare bit of good news for conservatives was the win by Mr Thae Yong-ho, a North Korean diplomat-turned-defector.
Mr Moon now has wind in his sails as he enters his last two years in office. For the foreseeable future, his focus, like that of every head of state across the planet, will be pandemic management.
He will have to lead South Korea into the next phase of finding a sustainable democratic approach to fighting COVID-19, especially in economic terms.
Beyond this, as the virus crisis and its pressures abate, Mr Moon can be expected to revive his dreams of making peace with North Korea - the ultimate measure by which history will judge the legacy of South Korea's leader.
But for the rest of the world, the significance of this election has little to do with its outcome.
What matters most is that tens of millions of citizens were able to exercise their democratic rights even in the age of the coronavirus.
NYTIMES
John Delury is a professor of Chinese studies at Yonsei University, in Seoul, South Korea.
That transparency, in turn, has allowed the government to rely largely on containment measures that are voluntary: Social distancing in South Korea is the subject of a public health campaign, not an order of the state. There has been no lockdown - not nationally and not even at the epicentre of the outbreak, the south-western city of Daegu, during the worst of the crisis.
This week's parliamentary elections were a referendum on Mr Moon's democratic approach to the COVID-19 pandemic, and South Korean voters handed him a resounding victory.
The Democratic Party won in a landslide, capturing (along with its satellite party) an estimated 180 seats and securing the largest majority in decades. Voters punished Mr Moon's critics, with the leader of the conservative United Future Party losing his race - to Mr Lee Nak-yon, Mr Moon's former prime minister and a future contender for the presidency - and immediately stepping down. A rare bit of good news for conservatives was the win by Mr Thae Yong-ho, a North Korean diplomat-turned-defector.
Mr Moon now has wind in his sails as he enters his last two years in office. For the foreseeable future, his focus, like that of every head of state across the planet, will be pandemic management.
He will have to lead South Korea into the next phase of finding a sustainable democratic approach to fighting COVID-19, especially in economic terms.
Beyond this, as the virus crisis and its pressures abate, Mr Moon can be expected to revive his dreams of making peace with North Korea - the ultimate measure by which history will judge the legacy of South Korea's leader.
But for the rest of the world, the significance of this election has little to do with its outcome.
What matters most is that tens of millions of citizens were able to exercise their democratic rights even in the age of the coronavirus.
NYTIMES
John Delury is a professor of Chinese studies at Yonsei University, in Seoul, South Korea.
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