Testing Time
When Roh Moo Hyun takes office on Feb. 25, he faces a slew of pressing policy issues and headaches at home and abroad
Kim Is Going Nuclear
What does North Korea's Dear Leader want? And can he be stopped? (Feb. 24, 2002)
How Dangerous is North Korea?
Dictator Kim Jong II is pushing the world toward a showdown over his nuclear-weapons program (Jan. 13, 2002)
The Dying State
TIME looks inside North Korea, the starving nuclear nation (Nov. 4, 2002)
Peace and War — page 2
Roh, however, has his constituents, including young South Koreans who think their country should stand up to America—and who propelled him to a narrow victory in last December's elections. Roh the President is a symbol of a South Korea that's now emerging as a major economic power in the region and is eager to be treated as an equal partner with the U.S. on security matters, not as the protectorate it's been since the end of the Korean War. During his interview with TIME, Roh pointedly recalls the 1994 crisis in which the Clinton Administration contemplated attacking North Korea. "We learned later that North Korea and the U.S. were on the brink of nuclear war," he says, "and that would have meant a massive sacrifice on the part of the Korean people." This time around, he chides, "we need a closer cooperation and coordination with the U.S. government."
Roh's willingness to stand up to the biggest kids—or countries—has long been evident. As a human-rights lawyer, he made his mark in 1981 defending student activists tortured by dictatorial South Korean leaders who were propped up by the U.S. His own underdog upbringing and his fight for justice during South Korea's dark days may have contributed to his crystalline sense of right and wrong. Soon after he passed the bar exam in 1976, Roh asked his older brother Gun Pyung to turn in to the authorities a rifle that had been illegally purchased. When Gun Pyung refused to give up his prized possession, Roh sneaked into his brother's house, confiscated the gun and handed it over to the police himself. Gun Pyung says he was furious, but adds that his brother "would never lie."
This streak of starchy rectitude is belied by Roh's blunt but easygoing manner. During his interview with TIME, Roh frequently broke into a grin and never lost his cool. When he was grilled about his past of heavy drinking and spousal abuse, which Roh had described in a 1994 autobiography, his aides were aghast. But Roh patiently answered, saying he has only one glass of wine with dinner these days. Did his wife ever threaten to leave him? "It's a secret," Roh joked.
Yet even Roh's boosters question if he has the experience and credentials to handle an international crisis. Until now, his highest government post was a stint as Minister of Fisheries, and he has rarely set foot outside the country—he once traveled to Japan for sailing lessons. He has never visited the U.S., and in the past professed little interest in South Korea's most important ally. The two sides have not begun their new relationship smoothly. Roh's election was heralded with wild celebrations on the streets of Seoul that were less victory dance and more an outpouring of anger toward the 37,000 U.S. troops that guard Korean soil. The President-elect smooth-talked his way through the imbroglio, convincing demonstrators to tone down the invective and later reassuring skittish American businesses and investors that they remained on solid footing.
But more damage was done this month when he sent an inexperienced diplomatic team to Washington for talks on the North Korean crisis. One envoy proclaimed that a North Korea armed with an atom bomb was less scary than the prospect of the country falling apart—an assertion that led a U.S. observer to label the diplomatic mission "a freak show." The envoy later said his statements were misunderstood—and Roh insists he wants to start over. Powell's visit this week marks the first time high-level officials from both administrations have sat down to hash out a cohesive North Korea strategy. "I will do my best to remove the differences or disagreements" between Korea and the U.S., Roh vows. The U.S. might try to meet him halfway. A Western diplomat in Seoul, calling Roh's intention to continue engagement with Pyongyang "compatible" with U.S. thinking, says, "I don't believe Roh's instincts are fundamentally different from Bush's on this issue. No one wants North Korea to have nuclear weapons."
Still, even if an accommodation with Washington can be reached, Roh's policy toward North Korea might alienate a large part of the South Korean electorate. Critics say engagement with the North has produced neither improved economic ties nor a less warlike neighbor—it's more like institutionalized extortion payments. Advocates of the "Sunshine Policy" were dealt a particularly grievous blow in recent weeks with allegations that Hyundai Group, one of South Korea's biggest conglomerates, funneled $500 million to North Korea to secure business deals and help smooth the way for a landmark June 2000 summit in Pyongyang between South Korea's then President Kim Dae Jung and Kim Jong Il. Polls show 70% of South Koreans want a full investigation of the scandal—Roh initially supported an investigation but then changed his tack, saying the decision to launch a probe should be left to the country's National Assembly. "Right now, things are murky, opaque and full of things that raise suspicions," says Eom Ho Song, a lawmaker with the opposition Grand National Party. "I and other lawmakers strongly suspect North Korea used the money to build up its military."
