Governing without government

Park Sang-hoon

The author is a political scientist. 

Government is a vast and complex institution. Few organizations in human history have exercised greater power or influence. Before governments began to take their modern form in the 16th century, people largely accepted famine, epidemics, natural disasters and war as acts of God or the cruelty of fate. They did not imagine that rulers could be held accountable for protecting citizens’ lives, liberties and rights.

The civic revolutions that began in the mid-17th century expanded individual freedom while also strengthening government itself. When John Locke published his classic work after the Glorious Revolution, he did not title it "On Civil Rights." Instead, he named it "Two Treatises of Government" (1689). Citizens who accepted government in place of monarchical rule came to regard the protection of property; freedom from poverty; public health; safety from disasters and crime; and peace from war and violence as responsibilities of government.

Government matters. Presidents are replaced through elections, but government itself must continue to function stably and systematically. But the roles and authority of government ministries have steadily weakened in Korea. Cabinet meetings have become increasingly hollow, and the presidential office has grown ever more powerful. Major national initiatives are often justified as urgent measures, allowing the presidential office to bypass normal procedures and take direct control. The government’s power expands even as its inner workings become less visible, reflecting a return to an earlier style of centralized rule.

A government in which only the president stands out is inherently fragile. It makes little sense to praise a president for governing effectively when the government itself appears absent. Even a strong president cannot sustain authority for long if the institutions beneath him remain weak.

Few people can readily recall the names of cabinet ministers. Cabinet meetings filled with ministers who command little public presence are an unsettling sight. Whenever such meetings are broadcast, I cannot help feeling that ministers have been reduced to little more than props whose role is to make the president appear more impressive. One wonders whether the ministers themselves regard this as the best way to govern.

Scholars who study government often remark that a government cannot be run like a graduate seminar. But today’s Cabinet members sometimes resemble graduate students waiting to be corrected by their academic adviser. Rather than showing enthusiasm for participating in policy discussions, they often appear to be completing assignments they would rather avoid. Public reactions have also cooled. What initially seemed fresh and unconventional no longer appears so appealing. Increasingly, people see not energetic ministers but passive ones, and the president’s frequent lectures on even minor matters have begun to wear thin.

Government should be understood more as an orchestra. Different instruments produce different sounds, yet together they create harmony. Musicians listen to one another while following the conductor, making coordinated performances possible.

But imagine a conductor who turns away from the orchestra and faces only the audience. The musicians would lose coordination while the audience — after the novelty wore off — would tire of watching the conductor’s performance rather than hearing the orchestra.

Reducing government to an instrument of a president’s personal rule is equally dangerous. A president preoccupied with public approval rather than governing resembles such a conductor. Politics driven primarily by public opinion also tends to encourage anti-intellectualism.

President Lee Jae Myung appears to keep intellectuals at a distance, though that may be precisely why they are needed. Intellectuals often provide little immediate practical help, but their independence allows them to challenge prevailing assumptions and identify risks that others overlook. They may not speed up decision-making, but they can help prevent failure.

Why, then, does the presidential chief of staff not restrain the president? Every president has personal limitations, making candid advice from close aides indispensable. Their role is to temper vanity and prevent poor judgment.

The current chief of staff appears content to show loyalty rather than offer criticism. Images of the president with the chief of staff are far more common than those with Cabinet ministers, reinforcing the perception that ministers have been marginalized. Many would now say the chief of staff wields greater influence than the prime minister. He increasingly resembles both a prime minister and a vice president. Is this the emergence of a new government centered on the presidential office?