The Smart War
The smart war was, in a word, a desperate struggle—a frantic cry of “save me.” Until last winter, when the bulldozers finally leveled the Heukseok-dong residence, Daehan Ilbo never stopped hurling curses. The primary target of those curses was the coalition between the Democratic Party and the Tongil National Party, followed by ID Group, and finally President Kim Dae-jung himself.
In truth, the main reason the Heukseok-dong residence had been demolished was its long-standing feud with Yoo Jae-won. Daehan Ilbo knew this well, which was why it had desperately sought reconciliation and forgiveness, reaching out to him again and again. At first, their attitude had been one of wounded pride: How dare you refuse our apology after we went to such lengths? It was the typical stance of those who had always been the dominant party. But they were forced to belatedly acknowledge that the true super-dominant party was Yoo Jae-won.
Advertisements that had once flowed in steadily suddenly dried up. Four of the top ten conglomerates—starting with ID Group, followed by Mirae Group, Busan Group, and TG Group—boycotted Daehan Ilbo. Yoo Kyung Group, though not yet among the top ten, joined the boycott as well. If only the damage had stopped at lost advertising revenue, they might have considered themselves fortunate. Companies like Ilseong Group and Geumseong Group maintained their existing relationships, and real estate advertisements still accounted for the largest share of newspaper ads, so the immediate impact remained limited. But that grace period did not last long.
The real problem came from the National Assembly. Once the Resource Recycling Act passed, inflating subscription numbers became far more difficult. Then the Improper Solicitation and Graft Act made reporters think twice about padding their pockets. The decisive blow was the establishment of the Corruption Investigation Office for High-ranking Officials. Gongsucheo was created in the blink of an eye, and the head of Kim & Jeong Law Firm—under the ID Foundation—was parachuted in as its first director. Despite Daehan Ilbo’s relentless attacks, they could not find even a speck of dirt substantial enough to bring him down.
After that, South Korea was no longer the country Daehan Ilbo had known. Its long-held privileges vanished rapidly. A stern blade descended, and one by one the newspaper’s owners found themselves in court. Eventually, prison sentences and enormous fines followed. Unable to simply wait for death, Daehan Ilbo searched for the weakest link in the forces attacking it.
—The weak point is the coalition between the Democratic Party and the Tongil National Party!
Daehan Ilbo’s analytical ability was, at least, worthy of recognition. The coalition was Yoo Jae-won’s invisible weapon. In the end, what changed the world was the law. At first, it had been difficult to immediately grasp what the two parties were targeting with each new bill—even the lawmakers who proposed them often did not fully understand. But once laws were enacted and time passed, their effects became clear. The fact that Daehan Ilbo had been crushed by prosecutors and courts was ultimately a consequence of the National Assembly’s creation of Gongsucheo. If cases had been wrapped up leniently as before, the prosecutors and judges themselves would have been at risk, so the strict standard of the law was applied without exception.
The establishment of Gongsucheo had only been possible because of the Democratic-Tongil National Party coalition. To destroy that coalition, Daehan Ilbo was willing to fabricate and distribute fake news. Unfortunately for them, the power of print newspapers had already greatly diminished. They could no longer set powerful frames as they once had. The public no longer read Daehan Ilbo’s articles with the same fervor. Even when they published fake news, it was exposed instantly online, only damaging the paper’s reputation further.
Moreover, the final blow to Daehan Ilbo’s collapse was the demolition of Yoo Jae-won’s Heukseok-dong residence. Some cable news channels broadcast it live, and major terrestrial evening news programs covered it prominently, allowing the entire nation to witness Daehan Ilbo’s end.
Afterward, the newspaper’s editorial stance flipped 180 degrees. Where it had once shown no hesitation in spewing curses, after the residence was razed it became directionless, as though it no longer knew how to write its articles. Then, as the year drew to a close, articles began appearing that actively endorsed government policies. Starting with the first issue of the new year in 2001, Daehan Ilbo even published articles praising Yoo Jae-won—something that had once been absolutely taboo.
“Hmm?”
Yoo Jae-won, who had been carefully turning the pages of a newspaper he had not read in a long time, let out a sound of mild surprise. Kim Dae-seok, who was always attuned to his employer’s reactions, did not miss it.
“Is there something you would like me to handle, sir?”
He immediately recognized that such a sound from Yoo Jae-won usually preceded a decision and prepared himself to receive instructions. For a moment, he wondered if Yoo Jae-won might be considering accepting Daehan Ilbo’s surrender.
“I’ve thought of a new task to assign Director Kim Kwang-il.”
But what came out of Yoo Jae-won’s mouth was far from what Kim Dae-seok had expected. Director Kim Kwang-il had once been former President Jeon Myeong-heon’s right-hand man. He now served as ID Group’s Communications Director. Though the title sounded grand, his actual role was to build relationships with influential figures in society for the benefit of ID Group. Thanks to this, Director Kim spent much of his time playing golf, drinking, and attending performances with various people.
“Come to think of it, thanks to the reform bills the National Assembly has been diligently passing, the murky media landscape has been purified.”
At this point, when Yoo Jae-won referred to the “murky media,” he meant Daehan Ilbo, and Kim Dae-seok understood perfectly.
“That is correct, sir.”
“However, I’ve noticed that many of the reform bills we worked so hard to pass are having only lukewarm effects in reality. Take the Improper Solicitation and Graft Act, for example. I searched the news, and there isn’t a single article about a reporter being punished under it.”
“Ah, I understand what you mean.”
Yoo Jae-won had no intention of showing mercy even after Daehan Ilbo’s surrender. When pus forms in a wound, it must be thoroughly removed while it can still be excised—otherwise it will fester. If Daehan Ilbo was not uprooted completely now, it would surely revive someday and try to turn back the clock. The Improper Solicitation and Graft Act had been created precisely to pull out Daehan Ilbo’s roots. Yet contrary to its intent, not a single reporter had been punished under it so far. On the surface, one might think reporters were simply obeying the law, but of course no such miracle had occurred. The answer was simple: reporters’ behavior remained unchanged, but the law was not being properly enforced. There was a term for this—passive administration. Reports were not actively filed, and even when they were, processing was inadequate. Furthermore, the penalties under the act were too weak.
“We need to strengthen the law to make it more realistic.”
Kim Dae-seok nodded at Yoo Jae-won’s words.
“I will relay that immediately.”
Relaying it to Director Kim Kwang-il meant that Yoo Jae-won’s will would also reach the Tongil National Party. As former President Jeon Myeong-heon’s right-hand man, Director Kim maintained close ties with the party. In addition, he was the one who practically managed the safe keys and ledger that Grandfather Jeon Myeong-heon had given to Yoo Jae-won. If Director Kim, acting on Yoo Jae-won’s instructions, moved both the Tongil National Party and the Democratic Party, the strengthening of the Improper Solicitation and Graft Act would happen immediately. And the sharpened law would be aimed squarely at Daehan Ilbo’s reporters.
The reporters, already facing asset seizures, were truly cornered. Their salaries had not been paid on time since the seizures began last winter. The only reason they had been able to endure was their substantial side income. Yoo Jae-won intended to cut that off as well by strengthening the act. Until news of the paper’s closure arrived, he would never compromise with Daehan Ilbo.
—I received the chip. It’s excellent!
The director of the Andrei Sakharov High-Tech Research Institute appeared on the monitor screen with an unusually excited expression. After successfully producing the Golden Chip using Sample J3, Yoo Jae-won had immediately packaged it and sent it to the ID High Tech research institute in Seattle.
—We’ve already finished mounting it on the prototype board and are currently running various scenario tests while changing multiple variables.
“Already?”
That had been three days ago. Even with air transport, the speed was remarkable.
—The board itself was developed long ago. We should be able to send prototypes to Android Corporation and ID Technology soon as well.
The design of the next-generation smartphone was handled by the High Tech research institute, while mass production would be managed by ID Electronics. Android Corporation developed the operating system, and ID Technology created the various pre-installed applications. ID Electronics produced the MAP 3, memory chips, and flash memory chips, while ID Display manufactured mobile LCD modules. Although the batteries carried the Sanyo brand, Sanyo’s owner was also Yoo Jae-won. The entire ID Group was essentially moving as one for the next-generation smartphone business. And that was not all. Numerous partner companies were supplying various sensors to be mounted on the smartphone, and app developers registered with the ID App Store were working diligently as well.
—By March, we should be able to place a proper device in your hands, Chairman.
“Yes, I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Unlike the T-Touch Phone, which had been 2% short of perfection, the device they were preparing this time was a true smartphone. The specifications, 99% confirmed, were as follows: the processor was the third-generation Mobile Application Processor, commonly known as MAP 3. Its performance was 4.5 times that of the existing MAP 2, with plans to push it up to 5 times through optimization. Compared to a PC, it was faster than a Pentium 2 400 model. With the integrated 3D acceleration module, gaming performance reached the highest level, capable of rendering complex 3D models at over 30 frames per second. Game companies with skilled developers could even achieve 60 frames.
The LCD display was a 4.2-inch IPS module with a 9:16 aspect ratio, offering excellent viewing angles, vibrant colors, and a high resolution of 480×800. While not quite HD, the dpi itself was very high, producing smoother visuals than a PC. Memory capacity, crucial for mobile device performance, had surged to 512 megabytes in the base model, with 8 gigabytes of flash memory. Various sensors, including GPS, had been added. The most important component—the modem—was the 2.5-generation IMT-2000, recently renamed CDMA2000. The base data communication speed had expanded to 144 kbps, enabling video calls, which telecommunications companies were eagerly promoting. With EV-DO mode enabled, speeds up to 640 kbps were possible, but this was only feasible in Korea, where the infrastructure had been prepared early. ID Group’s next-generation smartphone also featured a front-facing camera, making video calls fully viable. However, contrary to the carriers’ expectations, video calling had not become a particularly popular service. Yoo Jae-won had included the camera primarily for selfies, so image correction features in the camera app had been significantly enhanced.
Although the major specifications for the next-generation smartphone had been finalized, one thing remained undecided.
“But what should we name the product?”
Naming! Coming up with a new name was truly difficult for Yoo Jae-won. Since he could not afford to treat the naming process lightly, he once again borrowed the minds of a team of experts.
“Android Phone. I think Android Phone is the most natural choice.”
It was Tiffany who spoke. The naming agency had sent three options: Android Phone, T-Smartphone, and ID Phone. To Yoo Jae-won, who possessed future sensibilities through regression, they all felt roughly the same, so he had asked Tiffany for her opinion and received an immediate reaction.
“Android Phone, huh.”
It was the most ordinary-sounding name to him. The name he personally liked most was T-Smartphone, followed by ID Phone. Android Phone ranked last.
“Since it’s ID Group’s first smartphone, the name should change completely!”
On the other hand, Tiffany said it was time to abandon the T series name. After all, it had been used for five years, starting with the Tiffany Phone. Yoo Jae-won agreed that a completely fresh name would be better, but the name Android Phone felt far too familiar to him. Moreover, it was not a name for a specific model but a term referring to all phones using the mobile Android operating system, so it lacked a distinctive impression. Yet to Tiffany it apparently seemed special, as she strongly recommended Android Phone. Just in case, Yoo Jae-won also sought opinions from his executives.
—Android Phone feels the best.
—Android Phone.
—I think ID Phone would be good.
Remington and Vice Chairman Choi Kang-wook shared Tiffany’s opinion. Only Vincent Greenhill preferred ID Phone.
“Then we’ll go with Android Phone.”
With the majority leaning that way, Yoo Jae-won set aside his own preference. Once the next-generation smartphone’s name was confirmed as Android Phone, the marketing department began moving, launching teaser advertisements. Although the official release was scheduled for the second quarter, early promotion was necessary to significantly expand the pool of potential consumers.
—iPhone S, releasing in the second half!
Surprisingly, as soon as the Android Phone teaser advertisements appeared, Apple also began promoting its next model. It was an upgraded version supporting CDMA2000, just like the Android Phone. Even before regression, Apple had a policy of releasing an enhanced “S” version one year after launching a numbered flagship product, and that policy had apparently carried over this time as well. Yoo Jae-won thought Apple’s strategy was not bad. Driven by the desire for the title of “first smartphone,” the iPhone had been released too early. Naturally, market response had fallen short of expectations. Instead, marketing using the word “smart” had boomed. It had reached the point where people were even talking about “smart shells” and “smart missiles.”
Things would be different going forward. The year 2001 had begun with the next-generation smartphone war already heating up from the very start of the year.