http://www.forbes.com/sites/andrewsalmon/2014/04/17/ferry-disaster-shows-korean-leadership-at-its-best-and-worst/
SEOUL – The maritime tragedy unfolding off the southwest coast of the Korean peninsula is displaying two sides of modern South Korea: A fast-moving, accountable and responsive government, assisted by selfless citizens – contrasted with an opaque, undutiful and craven corporate.
Korea achieved hard-fought for political democracy in 1987. In the years since, the public sector, from the presidency on downward, has become increasingly accountable and responsive to public requirements and demands.
The corporate sector, however – the locomotive that originally enriched this “zero-to-hero” nation, and which has spawned some world-beating companies – is a bastion of reform resistance. Senior business figures are opaque and unaccountable to shareholders; they have customarily been above the law. Not for nothing was “economic democracy” a key battleground in the country’s 2012 election.
South Korean Coast Guard officers search for missing passengers
aboard a sunken ferry in the waters off the southern coast near Jindo,
South Korea on Thursday, April 17, 2014. (AP Photo/Ahn Young-joon)
Currently, the public and media are venting at their government as it strives to respond to the Sewol ferry tragedy. There are some grounds for fury. Seoul stumbled badly in the first hours of the crisis, releasing misleading figures that vastly inflated the number of those rescued, raising hopes that were to be cruelly dashed.
But if crisis communications were poorly handled, on the action front, things proceeded more surely. Seoul has a large and capable military and it swiftly deployed naval and coast guard vessels and helicopters to the scene.
Dramatic and inspirational footage showed coast guard boats and volunteer fishermen conning small vessels right up against the hull of the foundering ferry to get people off, and coast guards actually clambering aboard the sinking ship to save lives – a risky business for the rescuers. Helicopters were seen hovering low over the wreck, plucking people to safety.
Several hundred divers are on-site. Some are elite naval commandos and underwater salvage specialists. Others are civilian volunteers. Theirs is a perilous task: Diving through swift currents into the cold, dark, murky waters of the Yellow Sea to rescue children who just may be trapped in air pockets inside the sunken ship - a vast underwater labyrinth.
While these operations proceeded, Prime Minister Chung Hong-won was dispatched to the scene. He was greeted by furious family members with abuse and a barrage of thrown water bottles. Ever-greater rescue efforts were demanded.
President Park Geun-hye reportedly did not sleep on Wednesday night. On Thursday, she unexpectedly appeared at the disaster site, assessing the situation and urging rescue workers to increase their efforts.
Then – heedless of the rough handling her prime minister had received – Park spoke before gathered family members. Some asked questions; others screamed at her. This was a no-win situation for the president, but her actions demonstrated responsibility, dedication and moral courage.
Alas, the leadership displayed by Park – and the courage displayed by the servicemen and volunteers diving under the Yellow Sea – stand in stark contrast to the behavior shown by the owner of the vessel, the captain of the vessel and the crew of the vessel.
According to Korean media reports, the president of Cheonghaejin Marine, the company that owns the Sewol, was en route to the scene when he collapsed “with shock” and was taken to an (undisclosed) hospital.
Perhaps he is, indeed, ill. Or perhaps he is evading responsibility, as some local media suggest. Korea watchers will be familiar with the expression “wheel-chairmen” – a derisory term for those corporate chairmen who roll up for their latest court appearance dressed in hospital pajamas, in wheelchairs or even lying on gurneys, in order to generate sympathy.
The behavior of the Sewol’s captain, Lee Joon-seok, appears even less dutiful
A crewman who
spoke to the Associated Press said that after the initial (still unexplained) incident, Lee spent 30 minutes trying to right his listing ship. When these efforts failed, he agreed with a crewman that it was time to abandon ship – but did not check whether that order was passed down to passengers. Separately, Coast Guard officials told Korean media that Lee left his ship 32 minutes after the initial incident.
If these reports are accurate, they indicate that Lee departed his dying command within two minutes of making that decision.
In the 21st century, nobody expects a captain to go down with his ship. But being among the first to leave – without first ensuring the safety of the passengers who are a captain’s most critical responsibility – is shabby behavior.
Lee was photographed in a police station, cowering with his head under a hoodie. He has not appeared before victims’ families, but mumbled an apology and said he is speechless. He may face criminal negligence charges.
And what about those orders given out over the ship’s public address system, urging passengers to remain where they were, below decks and in cabins? In a marine disaster, it is critical to get topside or to an open deck. From there, persons can board a raft, be picked up or – worst case – go into the water. To remain on closed or lower decks invites being trapped underwater as a vessel goes down.
Why were these orders broadcast? What kind of thinking - what safety procedures? – underlay them?
If we turn to
the New York Times we meet the ship’s communications officer. Kang Hae-seong, 32, said that it was he who made the decision to tell people to remain where they were to prevent panic. “I didn’t have time to look at the manual for evacuation,” he told the NYT. Clearly, the situation Kang found himself in was highly stressful – but it was not momentary. It persisted, he said, for one hour.
Kang survived, as did most of the Sewol’s crew, according to local media. Most passengers remain missing.
The only crew member so far to emerge from the incident with an aura of nobility is a 22-year-old colleague of Kang named Park Ji-young, who reportedly took her job to assist her poor family. The PA system had been broadcasting dangerously misleading orders, but Park, according to survivors, took resolute action: She stood in chest-deep water, distributing life jackets and shoving passengers toward exits, telling them that she would leave only after they had escaped.
Park’s actions proved sacrificial. Her body was among the first recovered.
At present, Koreans are – as is their wont, for they are a people who prize “passion” – showering abuse upon authorities. This is their hard-won right, and derision toward leaders is a quixotic feature of many democracies.
But in days to come, it might be more just if they refocused some of their ire away from those attempting to ameliorate the situation and towards those whose inefficiencies, ill-judged procedures and absence of duty for those in their care exacerbated a horrific tragedy.
Speaking more broadly, perhaps Koreans will, subsequently, reflect that while democracy – with its attendant values of responsiveness, accountability and transparency – is now deeply embedded in their political life, similar virtues are not yet represented in their corporate sector.
