The New Constitution Shakes the Establishment

The moment the socialist constitutional reform frame was raised, the opposition parties launched their offensive as if they had been waiting for it. Their ultra-hardline statements poured out in perfect unison, as though no one could guess how long they had been holding their breath. It was laughable. Naturally, the Jeon Myeong-heon government's constitutional amendment contained no clause recognizing the North Korean Workers' Party regime. It merely referenced the historical fact of the Korean War and the resulting division of the peninsula in the preamble. Instead, it introduced a new Chapter 12 on unification, laying out a forward-looking framework for peaceful reunification.

With that, the Jeon Myeong-heon government released the full text of the proposed constitutional amendments online under the title "President Jeon Myeong-heon's Amendment Draft." The conservative opposition, including Daehan Ilbo, only grew more frenzied.

"Wow, Grandfather's drive is truly incredible."

Yoo Jae-won could not help but admire the document displayed on his monitor. It was the very text that every politically interested Korean was now reading: President Jeon Myeong-heon's Amendment Draft. Even Yoo Jae-won, who enjoyed a close relationship with President Jeon, was seeing the full proposal for the first time. Rumors circulated among the opposition that Yoo Jae-won wielded significant influence over the amendments, yet he had firmly kept his resolve never to become a shadow power broker. Still, the draft that emerged from their shared vision exceeded expectations.

The preamble alone was radical. It began the same way—"Our Republic of Korea, shining with its long history and traditions"—but then declared, "It was founded through resistance to injustice and in the legal tradition of the Provisional Government established by the March 1st Movement." A period followed. Only afterward did it mention the Korean War and the reality of national division. The original preamble had been a single, lengthy sentence; this version was short and clear, like the German constitution. The mere mention of North Korea in the preamble was enough to provoke Daehan Ilbo's outrage. But that was not the real issue.

The draft also enumerated the major democratization movements of modern history—from the April 19 Revolution to the Bu-Ma Uprising, the May 18 Gwangju Uprising, and the June 10 Struggle—and pledged to inherit their spirit. A movement to "set history straight" was already underway, and the Past History Committee was active, yet many forces viewed this with displeasure. Self-proclaimed conservative elements believed these matters were long settled and that dredging them up only divided national opinion. The Jeon Myeong-heon government, however, poked at their sore spots without hesitation, determined to correct the twisted history.

Choi Kang-wook's explanation continued, occupying half of Yoo Jae-won's True Cinema display. As a former lawyer, Choi Kang-wook was the ideal expert to interpret the Jeon Myeong-heon government's draft. They were holding a real-time briefing via ID Talk's video meeting function.

"There wasn't one before, was there?"

Yoo Jae-won asked, feigning ignorance.

"No, sir. I only learned this myself. The previous constitution had no provision regarding the capital. I wonder why they felt the need to add one now."

Choi Kang-wook's imagination had its limits. After all, who at this point could have foreseen the future controversy over relocating the capital? Even Jeon Myeong-heon had not considered it. The capital clause had been Yoo Jae-won's suggestion, and it appeared the president had accepted it. Thus, the sentence "The capital of the Republic of Korea shall be determined by law" was now part of the draft. From now on, even if a decision to move the capital were made, it would only require passage of legislation in the National Assembly; there would be no need to involve the Constitutional Court. For the moment, everyone reacted like Choi Kang-wook—finding it odd and wondering why it had been included—but in time, the larger picture would become clear.

"Next, the prevention of preferential treatment for former officials has been explicitly written into the Constitution. In fact, that preferential treatment was the primary mechanism enabling judicial corruption. Now we have a solid legal basis to prevent it."

Yoo Jae-won nodded at Choi Kang-wook's explanation. With such preferential treatment, the wealthy enjoyed an enormous advantage—they could literally buy court outcomes. Even if a guilty verdict was not overturned, reducing a five-year prison sentence to a suspended sentence represented an immense benefit. But Yoo Jae-won had no need for such advantages. While building ID Group to its current scale, he had never ordered or committed any illegal acts. He even paid his taxes diligently—a perfect fair player. In contrast, many figures like Chairman Choi Hyun-hee routinely broke the law for personal gain yet escaped punishment. Eliminating preferential treatment for former officials was far more advantageous to Yoo Jae-won.

"Hmm, but this might put Kim & Jung Law Firm in a difficult position."

"Why would that be?"

"Kim & Jung Law Firm hires ten to twenty retired legal professionals every year and uses them to resolve difficult cases more smoothly. Especially after the IMF crisis, the number of people knocking on their door has increased even further. Most of those cases involve economic issues. Kim & Jung was established to provide legal services to vulnerable groups. Their most prominent work has been the forced labor and comfort women cases against Japan. Building on that, they have offered free legal representation for various issues faced by ordinary citizens, and contrary to appearances, their win rate has been remarkably high. After all, they only accept cases where, after thorough review, they can genuinely say the client has been wronged. When you add former officials with preferential connections, it becomes very difficult to lose."

"Things may become a bit complicated, but eliminating preferential treatment is desirable for society as a whole."

Choi Kang-wook agreed with Yoo Jae-won and Jeon Myeong-heon's intent. His constitutional ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠commentary continued. Whenever something unusual appeared, both men expressed surprise. Provisions that had already been discussed—such as the right to request warrants and the prohibition of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠double compensation—were passed over quickly.

"The introduction of a recall system for National Assembly members is quite an innovative reform. However, there are also significant concerns."

"Is that so?"

"The reason National Assembly members wield such enormous power today is because of the military dictatorship. You may not be able to imagine it, Mr. Chairman, but back then, they would drag assembly members to Namsan and beat them. It was truly unfortunate. That is why they strengthened and protected the authority of assembly members—to prevent recurrence."

"Really?"

Yoo Jae-won had not known that. Neither in his previous life nor this one had he ever witnessed assembly members being beaten. Instead, he had seen far too many cases of assembly members abusing their privileges. But Choi Kang-wook had witnessed it firsthand, so his concerns were understandable.

"Perhaps that is why the four-year, two-term system also raises some questions."

The Jeon Myeong-heon draft naturally included changes to the governing structure, including the presidential term. As Choi Kang-wook noted, it proposed a four-year, two-term system. Originally a five-year single term, the new arrangement shortened each term by one year but allowed a president to run for re-election once. The rationale was that even if the same party remained in power, the five-year single-term limit forced administrations to focus only on short-term achievements, breaking policy continuity and incurring enormous social costs. Choi Kang-wook, however, was less concerned with that logic and more worried about the potential return of a dictator. It would be ideal if, like in the United States, a president stepped down gracefully after two terms, but there was always the risk that someone who had served twice might refuse to leave for a third term. Since military dictatorship had ended less than ten years ago, Choi Kang-wook's concerns were understandable.

"That will not happen."

Yoo Jae-won spoke firmly. No dictator would ever emerge again in Korea. Even if someone harbored such reckless ambitions, Yoo Jae-won's capabilities would be more than enough to stop them. Hearing the man he respected most declare this with such certainty, Choi Kang-wook visibly relaxed. While uncertainties always existed, when someone with Yoo Jae-won's foresight spoke with such conviction, his anxiety melted away with surprising speed.

"And while others may not have noticed, there are also major changes regarding the military."

The military. Yoo Jae-won's expression grew slightly uncomfortable. Although he had received an exemption through the Fields Medal this time, he still had to undergo basic training at Nonsan. While this was completely different from his previous life, when he had served two years and two months, the prospect of going to the Nonsan training center itself remained deeply unpleasant. Sensing the gravity in Yoo Jae-won's expression, Choi Kang-wook's tone grew more serious.

"It is the abolition of the peacetime military court system."

Yoo Jae-won let out an involuntary exclamation. There were countless problems within the armed forces. Everyone wanted to reform the military, but it had never been easy. The military courts had served as the military's greatest shield. To ordinary citizens, military courts appeared to be places that strictly punished even minor violations of military law. In reality, that strictness applied only to enlisted personnel. For officers and generals, the courts provided powerful protection. Even embezzlement involving tens or hundreds of billions of won resulted in nothing more than a salary reduction—a slap on the wrist. The same applied to sexual harassment and assault. Investigations into suicides caused by internal irregularities and punishment of perpetrators were also inadequate. The reason was simple: military courts were composed entirely of military personnel. Military judges, lawyers, and prosecutors were all officers under the command of their superiors. If the same people who committed the crimes were tasked with punishing themselves, how could anyone expect proper justice?

The continued existence of these military courts had been possible because Korea had remained in a state of armistice until recently. Since the war had not officially ended, there was justification for maintaining the military court system, and the so-called "star generals" had been able to exploit it freely.

"Since the declaration of the end of the war has concluded the conflict, there is no longer any need to maintain military courts, correct?"

"Precisely, Mr. Chairman. Now that we are in a peacetime state, there is no need to maintain a military court system designed for wartime operations."

Yoo Jae-won had slightly overlooked this point, but the meticulous Jeon Myeong-heon had evidently taken care of even these details.

"The generals will have to be on their toes now."

"Indeed. While the military may be a battlefield internally, society is a living hell. They will soon taste its bitterness. And that would be a good thing. The KDX and FX projects are about to begin, and quite a few generals are preparing to dip their spoons into those pots. That money comes directly from your pocket, Mr. Chairman—pristine funds that must never be allowed to flow into the wrong generals' wallets."

"I suppose I do not need to explain the Corruption Investigation Office for High-ranking Officials?"

"Of course not."

The Jeon Myeong-heon government's constitutional draft naturally included provisions for establishing the Corruption Investigation Office. It would be a constitutional institution whose very existence was enshrined in the Constitution. The head of the office would be appointed by the president and confirmed by the National Assembly, with a confirmation hearing required beforehand. While no confirmation hearings were currently required for cabinet ministers, the requirement applied specifically to the head of this office.

"And… instead of abolishing the National Elders Advisory Council and the Democratic and Peaceful Unification Advisory Council, the Past History Committee will be elevated to a constitutional body. That is unusual."

The National Elders Advisory Council had been one of the remnants of the military regime—a scheme by Chun Doo-hwan that had vanished like dew on the execution ground thanks to Kim Young-sam's decisive action. The chair of the council was to be the immediate former president, allowing Chun Doo-hwan to treat Roh Tae-woo, who succeeded him, like a puppet. However, the council had a fatal flaw: the law stated that "advisory bodies may be established," giving the successor the choice. Since there was no obligation, President Roh Tae-woo naturally did not establish it, and the desire for situational politics was easily thwarted.

The Democratic and Peaceful Unification Advisory Council was similar. It had been created as a constitutional body to participate in all policy formulation necessary for achieving peaceful unification between North and South Korea and to offer suggestions and advice to the president. However, its functions overlapped with those of the Ministry of Unification, and it had contributed little to inter-Korean relations over the years. Jeon Myeong-heon had apparently chosen to abolish it decisively. In its place, the Past History Committee—essentially an expanded and strengthened version of the history rectification efforts begun under President Kim Young-sam—was being newly established as a constitutional organ.

"Its authority is more extensive than expected. Its investigative scope extends beyond May 18, June 10, and April 3 to include the entire period of Japanese colonial rule. Furthermore, there is a clause restricting the basic rights of those who betrayed the nation. It seems the president intends to pursue the recovery of assets from pro-Japanese collaborators."

The recovery of pro-Japanese assets had not been Jeon Myeong-heon's idea but Yoo Jae-won's. The rationale was straightforward: with the nation struggling under the IMF crisis, recovering the wealth accumulated by pro-Japanese traitors would both realize justice and provide significant support to the country.

"Wow, that's excellent."

Yoo Jae-won was naturally delighted. He immediately manipulated his computer to locate the relevant section in the draft displayed on screen. No matter how much tax Yoo Jae-won paid alone, when many people pooled their resources, generating even greater sums was trivial. Pro-Japanese collaborators in particular had amassed enormous wealth by selling out the nation. The claim that this would benefit the national economy was no empty promise. Yoo Jae-won had hoped for something like a special law for the recovery of pro-Japanese assets, but the broad-minded Jeon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Myeong-heon had gone so far as to embed it directly in the Constitution.

"I wonder how Daehan Ilbo will respond."

"I am curious as well."

Daehan Ilbo, which had framed the amendments as socialist constitutional reform, was itself an institution with a colorful pro-Japanese history from its owner down to its reporters. They had likely believed they were delivering a prepared knockout blow, only to be met with the counterpunch of pro-Japanese asset recovery. Yoo Jae-won found himself intensely curious about what reaction they would show next—so much so that he wished tomorrow would arrive as quickly as possible.