[Column by Son Sung-jin] Light Words, Shallow Policy

"How about living on a bus?" Hwang Hee's careless remark struck a nerve with young people already on edge. There is a crude expression in Korean that roughly means, "I may be broke, but I still have pride." The Japanese word gao, or face, can be interpreted as pride. It is not enough to say the comment was just an idea. Hwang is a Member of the National Assembly who helps shape policy. More than 10 years have passed since the terms "three give-ups" and "five give-ups" emerged, yet the bleak reality facing young people has not changed. Even so, they have not given up their pride.
The older generation enjoyed the privileges of a period of rapid economic growth. With little more than a recommendation letter, people could get jobs at major companies. Even if they started in a single-room apartment, they could buy a home within 10 years. That is something today's young people can hardly imagine. Politics bears responsibility for this desperate reality. Politician Hwang Hee is of course responsible as well. As a member of a generation that has already enjoyed enough, he should have offered comfort. Instead, he caused deep emotional harm.
Look back at what has been done. Has he ever once shown sympathy for young people struggling to find work? Day after day, politicians do nothing but fight, and then they are pelted with criticism for it. This was the sequel to a former president's remark that a 13-pyeong rental home could still be suitable for a family of four.
There is a line from a classical Chinese poem: "Keep your heart as deep as the Yellow River and your mouth as heavy as Mount Kunlun." It is a lesson politicians should take to heart. Their words are light, and their thinking is shallow. Reality should be the opposite. A politician's words become policy, and policy is tied to people's livelihoods. Because they hold power, their words cannot be brushed aside. They should speak only after careful deliberation has produced the best possible answer.
Old-school politicians were not so loose with their words. Their language was polished and restrained, with the sharpness of a well-honed phrase. What about today? Outrageous remarks fly around as if they were part of daily life, and human dignity disappears with them. As social networking service platforms have become tools of communication, people now say anything through writing, which is like the mouth itself. Written words, which do not simply vanish into the air, should be treated with even greater caution. Yet half-baked policies are transmitted online at every moment. Whether it is the president or a politician, there is no hesitation. They test public reaction and eventually turn it into policy. There is no real process of gathering opinions.
A prime example is Kim Yong-beom, Chief Presidential Secretary for Policy. He suddenly brought up leverage in front of investors who barely understood the term, and then turned it into policy. Everyone who knew the issue said it was dangerous, but he did not listen. Young people, intrigued by the idea, believed him and followed along. The result was huge losses. There are even stories of people losing 55 million won in wedding funds and considering breaking off their engagement.
Kim also made headlines with his remark about a "Universal Basic Dividend," saying that excess semiconductor tax revenue should be returned to the public. He is the same policy aide at the presidential office who caused controversy by saying that the three highs of a weak won, high inflation, and high interest rates were the cost of success, and that "the volatility in the domestic stock market is due to the dynamism of individual investors." Given his position and role, this cannot be dismissed as a personal opinion. His responsibility is grave, because he has extinguished even the last spark of hope for young people who have already lost their dreams.
Policy caution should matter even more in education, where decisions shape the future for generations. The education reform efforts under the Kim Young-sam administration went through hundreds of meetings over several years, yet the results were far from impressive. Among national affairs, education is that difficult. Haven't we experienced that firsthand through countless entrance exam experiments?
And yet the dice of experimentation have been rolled again. A policy has emerged to exempt tuition in order to foster regional flagship national universities. It is part of the same line of thinking as the plan to create 10 Seoul National Universities. National universities welcome it, while private universities are pushing back, saying it is tantamount to being told to shut down. Revitalizing local areas is the right direction, of course, but can universities really be saved by removing tuition? Will the dice show a 1 or a 6?
Students do not flock to a school simply because tuition is free or cheap. Everything is concentrated in the Capital Region, so students compete to attend universities in Seoul. It is not that education died and took the regions with it. The regions died, and education died along with them. Saving education first will not automatically revive the regions. The priorities have been reversed. Even if top students are kept from going to universities in Seoul and are instead nurtured elsewhere, it will all be in vain if they later move to the Capital Region to find jobs.
The word "people" is always attached to policy. It is said to be policy for the people. In a democratic country, if the majority represents the general public, then policies justified in the name of the people are not necessarily a problem. But while it may be one thing to push ahead quickly with major Judicial Reform and prosecution reform, it makes no sense to force through the abolition of the Prosecutors' Office's supplementary investigative authority when 60 percent of the public opposes it.
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