단상斷想

순도 100%의 개혁은 존재할까. 질문을 던져놓고 보니 답은 이미 나와 있는 것 같다. 그런데도 이 질문을 붙들고 있는 건 지금 한국 정치가 바로 이 오래된 명제 앞에서 좌표를 잃었기 때문이다.

A pro-Lee Jae-myung YouTuber scoffed at President Lee Jae-myung a few days ago on a broadcast, saying, "Reform? What reform?" He argued that if President Lee's approval ratings had collapsed while he was at least attempting reforms, there might be some excuse, but since he didn't even do that, there was "no reform whatsoever."

Is that really something to say to someone on the same side? But such words are no longer rare. The 'anti-Lee' strong supporters say the president lied. Even harsher insults than during the Yoon Seok-yeol administration are pouring out from their own side. The pro-Lee faction is bewildered. They say they have never seen a force attack the government to this extent. They say that even during the Moon Jae-in administration there were controversies, but not to this extent, and they don't understand why this is happening.

The logic of the attacking side is also firm. They argue that the reforms they have been calling for should be implemented now. Even the president cannot be absolved for not keeping promises. They ask what that has to do with national governance responsibility. They say that the head of the Central Investigation Agency can be appointed as they wish, and things can be reversed even now.

They deny being pro-Moon and, standing in opposition to Lee, pour out their anger. They even mention impeachment, claiming it's a part of justice. But the pro-Lee faction asks, "Is it really worth killing over?" and "What did you do when other presidents didn't keep their promises?"

A few days ago, I sat down with acquaintances from both the pro-Lee Jae-myung and anti-Lee Jae-myung factions at a private gathering. Their arguments were tense, and no common ground for compromise was found until the end of the meeting; they ran parallel. Honestly, I understand both sides' positions. This makes me question the purity of reform once again.

Even in the French Revolution, the conflict over what constituted a true revolution divided comrades into enemies. Danton, who advocated for easing the Reign of Terror, was executed by guillotine in April 1794, and the hardliner Robespierre, who sent him to the guillotine, met the same fate just over three months later. The fact that they participated in the same revolution did not guarantee the same path or judgment.

Even in the French Revolution, they killed each other over the purity of reform...

Of course, this tragedy cannot be placed on the same level as today's reform debates. What we should reflect on here is not the violence of the revolution, but the way of thinking that only recognizes one's own beliefs as the true revolution. The demand to uphold the principles of reform and the attitude of immediately judging different choices as betrayal must be distinguished. The same question ultimately comes back to those who ask about the purity of reform: By what is that purity measured?

Similar questions remain in the American healthcare reform. In 1974, Republican President Nixon proposed a reform plan that mandated employers to provide health insurance for full-time employees and expanded coverage for low-income individuals. Democratic Senator Edward Kennedy, who favored public health insurance, opposed the private insurance-centric approach, and although both sides sought compromise, they ultimately failed to reach an agreement. With Nixon's political base collapsing due to Watergate, the opportunity for reform disappeared.

Some of Nixon's ideas were reflected in Obamacare 36 years later, in 2010. Kennedy later cited his failure to agree on reform with Nixon as one of his biggest legislative regrets. The choice to miss out on a possible reform, simply because one desired a better reform, is not justified. While compromise carries the risk of losing principles, refusing to compromise also carries the risk of losing opportunities.

Looking back, the controversy over the abolition of the National Security Act during the Roh Moo-hyun administration in 2004 is an example of a reform that failed due to its purity. At the time, Lee Bu-young, chairman of the Uri Party, tentatively agreed with Park Geun-hye, leader of the Grand National Party, to delete five articles, including Article 7, which deals with praise, encouragement, and sympathy, and is considered a representative toxic clause of the National Security Act.

However, the agreement ultimately failed to lead to legislation due to opposition from hardliners within the ruling party, including floor leader Chun Jung-bae and lawmaker Yoo Shi-min, who advocated for complete abolition. Former chairman Lee Bu-young later publicly criticized Yoo Shi-min and other abolitionists for scuttling the compromise. Of course, considering the opposition party's resistance and the complex internal conflicts within the ruling party, the responsibility for the failure cannot be attributed solely to specific individuals.

However, the outcome was paradoxical. Amidst the conflict surrounding the complete abolition of the National Security Act, even partial amendments were thwarted, and 22 years later, the National Security Act is still in effect. President Lee Jae-myung also mentioned prosecutorial reform and pointed out his regret from that time. This old debate still poses a weighty question to our politics: did we fail to achieve even a part of the reform by insisting on 100% purity?

The current prosecutorial reform is moving in a direction that satisfies no one.

Of course, it is unreasonable to put these revolutions and the current Lee Jae-myung reforms on the same scale. Nevertheless, both reform and revolution are about dismantling existing orders and creating new systems. And that work is impossible without empathy and solidarity.

The French Revolution proved it. The passion that dismantled the old regime could not govern itself, erected the guillotine in the name of virtue, and ultimately brought back the emperor. It was a tragedy caused by the excess of revolution. Yoo Shi-min's 100% pure abolition of the National Security Act ultimately failed, and no one took responsibility for not being able to remove this heavy armor.

The current prosecutorial reform is moving in a direction that satisfies no one. Although Lee Jae-myung is leading the prosecutorial reform, his approval ratings suggest that both moderates and strong supporters have turned their backs. Moderates turned away because they found the infighting too noisy, while strong supporters turned away because they felt he was too soft. Opposite reasons are mixed within the same downward curve.

But is there really a reform that satisfies everyone? We must pause before this grand yet fundamental proposition. In 1919, amidst the defeat of World War I and the chaos of revolution, the German sociologist Max Weber spoke to young people about two ethics: the ethics of conviction and the ethics of responsibility.

A person who follows the ethics of conviction tries to uphold the principles they believe are right to the very end. In contrast, a person who follows the ethics of responsibility tries to take responsibility not only for their convictions but also for the real-world consequences of their actions. Simply put, if the ethics of conviction emphasize what is right, then the ethics of responsibility consider what results occur when one acts on what they believe to be right.

Weber did not say that only one of the two was correct. Rather, he emphasized that true politicians need both conviction and responsibility. Politics without conviction can easily devolve into opportunism, and conviction without responsibility can become self-righteousness that ignores reality. Ultimately, those who make politics their profession must bear not only the values they believe in but also the consequences of their choices.

The consequences of Yoo Si-min's 100% pure argument for the abolition of the National Security Act

When a president takes on the position of responsibility, they must consider all sides. This is not a matter of choice. It is a matter of efficiency and completeness. Pushing reform goals to the very end is different from actually completing reforms. Korean politics also experienced such difficulties with the controversy over the abolition of the National Security Act.

This is an old conflict. In revolutions or reforms, there are always people who insist on purity, on 100% purity. Even Kim Eo-jun's supporters start criticizing him if he's even slightly diluted from 100% purity. The critics don't think about the future. They just criticize.

Those who attack have no responsibility. All that matters is who is clearer, and who maintains that clarity to the end. In Weber's terms, they stand at the forefront of the ethics of conviction. That position is a pristine, pure realm free from responsibility. Because they don't bear the consequences, they are always right and pure.

That's not to say that hardline supporters should bear the responsibility for state affairs. However, the majority of pro-Lee Jae-myung faction members believe that rather than breaking power, they should understand and help it operate well. They ask, shouldn't we understand the president's reality?

That doesn't mean we should unconditionally accept the president's decisions. The argument that we should understand and help the president's reality can also easily devolve into a logic that even covers up the wrongdoings of power. Understanding, if prolonged, becomes absolution, and if absolution accumulates, oversight and checks and balances also evaporate.

Hardcore supporters see it differently. They believe that even if it's the president, if they're wrong, they should be immediately reprimanded and criticized. That instinct itself is a healthy instinct of democracy. Power should inherently be questioned.

Who will determine the purity of reform?

The problem is not the criticism itself, but its standards. When the standards they put forward appear arbitrary and partisan, criticism loses its objectivity and is not granted legitimacy. Today, those who call the president a liar use campaign promises as their standard.

However, campaign promises have more leeway than one might think. The phrase 'separate investigation and prosecution' does not specify where the separation ends and where the retreat begins. The problem is that the standard for reform can change depending on who interprets that promise and how.

So, who sets this standard? Is it the people? And who are these people? Is it the centrist who has turned their back, or the hardcore supporter who has turned their back? Both are the same people, but they hold diametrically opposed standards. The phrase 'the will of the people' has thus become something anyone can pull to their own side.

To discuss the purity of reform, there's something that needs to be asked first. To what extent have we agreed? Was there a consensus on that agreement? To what extent have we tolerated the purity that hardliners are now advocating? Even if a claim is confirmed by public opinion polls, we need to examine whether the results support the specific details of the reform. Purity asserted without such confirmation is a declaration, not a measurement.

Lee Jae-myung's logic is also correct, and the hardliners' logic is also correct. One speaks of results, the other of principles. As Weber said, true politics is only possible when these two hold each other within one person, within one community. Democracy is a compromise, a negotiation, and an agreement between any two points. If you go with all right or all wrong, there is no answer.

There is no such thing as 100% pure reform. What exists is only a sense of community that, despite endless disputes over the purity of reform, ultimately recognizes the need to live together, and a mature civic consciousness that acknowledges differences and seeks a path to coexistence.

The belief and tolerance that we will all return to the place of 'us' as a community—perhaps that is pure reform. If, on that path, we burn the bridges back and sneer, 'Reform is nonsense,' then that is not the purity of reform, but merely an impurity mixed into reform.