If You Come to a Gathering of Vice Chairmen, You're Vice Chairman Level
The presidential inauguration held in the front courtyard of the National Assembly was more solemn than any before it.
It was the new president’s ceremony conducted under the dark shadow that had settled over the entire nation, and the atmosphere could not help but remain subdued.
Fully aware of that mood, the newly inaugurated President Kim Dae-sang spoke of the economy more than anything else from the podium, declaring that the first priority of state administration was the economy, and the second priority was the economy as well.
Stabilizing the exchange rate that had climbed as high as two thousand won and reopening the shuttered doors of workplaces to rebuild households—this, he repeated several times, was the very reason he had become president.
He stressed that every citizen of the Republic of Korea would have to stand as one if those goals of governance were to be achieved.
Business leaders, he said, must set the example first. Immediately afterward he announced that a meeting with the five major groups would be convened under the Prime Minister’s chairmanship.
There, he made clear, he intended to produce meaningful results and give the new government a clean, decisive start.
The press framed their articles around President Kim Dae-sang’s intent, and public attention fixed on the forthcoming encounter between the Deputy Prime Minister for the Economy—the first button of the new administration—and the representatives of the five major conglomerates.
Jo Byeong-jin drove toward the Korea Chamber of Commerce and Industry in Jung-gu and cast a glance at Kim Seong-ho.
“Are you sure it’s all right for you to go?”
“If I say it isn’t, are you going to turn the car around?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
Jo Byeong-jin hesitated a beat, then spoke in a lower voice.
“I’m just worried.”
“About what?”
“Just… I keep thinking you might end up as the scapegoat.”
Keeping both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the car ahead, he went on.
“This is the meeting the president himself mentioned at the inauguration. They call it a round-table talk, but honestly we’re being told to fit ourselves into a frame the government has already built. The Chairman doesn’t want to do that… so he’s sending you instead, to signal—indirectly—that we have no intention of simply dancing to the government’s tune. Isn’t that it?”
“Is that your own opinion, or what most people are thinking?”
“Huh?”
Jo Byeong-jin turned his head to look at Kim Seong-ho.
Kim Seong-ho kept his gaze on the windshield.
“Whether it’s yours or someone else’s, if that’s how people see it, it’s good for me.”
“Good for you?”
“It means they look at me with pity, doesn’t it? Having people worry about me and feel sorry for me is never a bad thing.”
“So you’re saying that’s not what’s going on?”
“Of course it isn’t.”
Kim Seong-ho turned toward the driver’s seat and smiled.
“I’m going officially in the Chairman’s place, and I have business of my own to settle there.”
“Business of your own?”
“You don’t seriously think I brought that along for no reason, do you?”
He pointed a finger toward the back seat.
Their briefcases lay there side by side.
Jo Byeong-jin flicked a glance at them through the rear-view mirror.
“I’m going there to put that on the table, so you don’t need to feel sorry for me.”
“That thing…”
Jo Byeong-jin looked at the briefcase again.
Inside it were the materials the Restructuring Headquarters staff of Ilhyeon Group had gathered with fierce diligence—documents that cast a thoroughly negative light on any acquisition of Doa Motors.
Once those papers were produced, no one would be in a position to criticize or coerce Ilhyeon Group into pursuing the bid.
Still not fully grasping Kim Seong-ho’s intent, Jo Byeong-jin shook his head once. Moments later the car carrying the two of them arrived at the Korea Chamber of Commerce and Industry.
“Who’s that?”
“No idea. Who is he?”
The reporters gathered at the Chamber eyed Kim Seong-ho and Jo Byeong-jin with open curiosity as the pair stepped out of the stopped car.
They had come to photograph the people from the five major groups; these two faces were unfamiliar.
Then a voice rose from among the photojournalists—someone who had recognized Kim Seong-ho.
“Isn’t that President Kim Seong-ho, head of Ilhyeon Group’s Restructuring Headquarters?”
“President Kim Seong-ho?”
“The Chairman’s youngest son-in-law?”
“That’s him, all right. The one who got hit with eggs last time.”
“Shoot! Get the shot!”
The instant they realized who had stepped from the car, flashes exploded in a sudden storm.
They kept the shutters hammering, determined to capture Kim Seong-ho as he passed through the doors of the Chamber; only when he vanished inside and was no longer visible did they lower their cameras.
Cooling the heat of the flashes and winding film, the photographers traded remarks about the man who had just gone in.
“So Ilhyeon Group sent the head of the Restructuring Headquarters?”
“I knew Chairman Lee Tak-hyeon wouldn’t show, but sending Headquarters Chief Kim Seong-ho still feels off, doesn’t it? At the very least they should have sent Vice Chairman Lee Mun-jong.”
“The rank is way off. The other four groups all sent vice-chairman-level figures who actually hold power. Ilhyeon sends a man who only just got the new president’s title slapped on him. Tells you exactly how lightly they take this meeting.”
They recalled the people who had entered ahead of Kim Seong-ho and remarked on the considerable gap in stature.
Not everyone shared that view, however.
“President Kim Seong-ho isn’t an ordinary president.”
“Not ordinary?”
“Think about the situation at Ilhyeon right now. The Restructuring Headquarters sits above every other affiliate. It’s under the Chairman’s direct authority, controlling the subsidiaries on his orders. On top of that he’s the Chairman’s son-in-law… it’s fairer to see him as standing on the same line as Vice Chairman Lee Mun-jong. Not a newly minted president—a vice-chairman-level president.”
“Vice-chairman level…”
At those words the photographers’ voices quieted.
And from among them a decisive remark drifted out, soft but clear.
“If a man walks into a gathering of vice chairmen, then he’s vice-chairman level.”
The logic was persuasive enough that the others nodded in silence.
They wrote the phrase “vice-chairman level” into the caption that would go with Kim Seong-ho’s photographs and filed into the building of the Korea Chamber of Commerce and Industry.
The first order of business at the round-table held inside the Chamber was the photographs.
The Deputy Prime Minister and the representatives of the five major groups exchanged brief greetings, then moved under the banner.
They lined up side by side beneath the placard that read “Business Leaders’ Round-Table for Overcoming the Economic Crisis” and faced the cameras.
“Everyone gather in, please. Seonwoo Group Vice Chairman, one step forward. Align the shoulders. Look at the camera. Ready—one, two, three.”
With the newly appointed Deputy Prime Minister for the Economy in the center, two men stood to his left and three to his right.
Under the directions of the press officer they raised their hands for some shots and crossed them for others.
The officer called for one pose after another toward the Deputy Prime Minister’s group, and the photo and camera crews from every news outlet captured the six of them.
When the banner poses were finished, the officer turned to the Deputy Prime Minister.
“Next we’ll shoot the scene of you conversing at the table.”
“How many more times do we have to do this?”
The Deputy Prime Minister relaxed the facial muscles he had forced into a smile.
After a quick exchange with the newspaper and broadcast photographers beside him, the press officer answered.
“A couple of stills for the papers, a few video clips for the news, plus the official-gazette photos. Roughly another hour should wrap it up.”
The Deputy Prime Minister nodded and turned to the five group representatives.
“Please bear with us a little longer even if it’s inconvenient. This is the new administration’s first event, so we’re taking particular care.”
“His Excellency the President mentioned it personally at the inauguration; we can hardly treat it lightly. We’re fine—take as many as you need.”
“Of course. The Chairman sent me precisely for work like this. Shoot to your heart’s content.”
Each of the vice chairmen offered some version of the same reassurance.
The Deputy Prime Minister allowed a faint smile of relief—then his gaze settled on Kim Seong-ho, standing at the far end.
Every other vice chairman had spoken up; only Kim Seong-ho remained silent, staring off into the distance.
The Deputy Prime Minister leaned toward the conspicuously young man.
“You’re from Ilhyeon Group, correct?”
“Yes.”
Kim Seong-ho withdrew his distant gaze and answered the question.
The Deputy Prime Minister studied him carefully and continued.
“Is there something about this that the Ilhyeon representative finds unsatisfactory? You haven’t said a word, so I can’t help wondering whether you’re uncomfortable.”
He looked at Kim Seong-ho as if demanding an explanation for the silence.
The other groups’ vice chairmen all turned their eyes toward him as well.
His complete lack of reaction made it seem as though he objected to the entire proceeding.
Kim Seong-ho swept a glance across the gathered stares, then addressed the Deputy Prime Minister.
“I came prepared for what I expected would be an important discussion. When it became clear that was not the case, I was momentarily taken aback and failed to respond. That is all. Please understand.”
He offered the apology, then turned to the press officer and the photographers.
“I’m fine. Please continue.”
Once Kim Seong-ho had given his assent, the press officer prepared to proceed.
“In that case we shall move on to the next—”
“Hold on. You came to discuss something important?”
The Deputy Prime Minister stopped the press officer who had been about to reset the pose and fixed his eyes on Kim Seong-ho.
“What important discussion, exactly?”
His expression had turned openly displeased.
Kim Seong-ho’s sluggish response was bad enough; now the man seemed to be implying that the entire exercise was unnecessary.
Kim Seong-ho apologized once more.
“I’m sorry. This is my first time in a setting like this, so my reactions have been slow. From this point on I’ll stay sharp and follow along properly. Please go ahead.”
Even after the apology, Deputy Prime Minister Hwang Jang-chul’s irritated look did not fade.
A man who nursed grudges, Hwang refused to let go of the opening and pressed harder.
“Fine. Then tell us the important matter. I’m so curious about what earth-shaking topic Ilhyeon Group intends to raise that I can’t concentrate on the photographs. We should hear it first.”
He raised a hand and gestured toward Kim Seong-ho.
“Go on. Let’s hear just how important this discussion of yours is.”
He made it plain he would not proceed until Kim Seong-ho spoke.
The press officer let out a small sigh at the new Deputy Prime Minister’s attitude and signaled the photographers and camera crews to lower their equipment for the moment.
He then approached the reporters and asked them not to put the present scene into print or broadcast.
The journalists answered with knowing looks; veterans who had covered the government for years recognized the performance at once.
It was the classic new-Deputy-Prime-Minister move of disciplining the business community, and the youngest man present—Kim Seong-ho—had been chosen as the target of the first arrow.
Kim Seong-ho took in the circle of watching faces and allowed a burdened expression to cross his features.
“Deputy Prime Minister, could we not discuss the matter privately after the reporters have left? It does not seem the sort of subject one should raise with everyone present.”
“Ha-ha.”
Deputy Prime Minister Hwang Jang-chul turned to the other group representatives standing in line and wore an incredulous look.
“Anyone listening would think you really did have something vital to say. Seonwoo Vice Chairman—wouldn’t you agree?”
The Seonwoo Group vice chairman, thus singled out, gave an awkward laugh and nodded.
He cast a pitying glance at Kim Seong-ho.
Once you became Hwang’s target, escape was impossible; some conclusion would have to be reached, and that conclusion would almost certainly be unfavorable to Kim Seong-ho.
Hwang shifted his gaze from the Seonwoo vice chairman back to Kim Seong-ho and asked again.
“Well then, speak. What important discussion brought you here in such a distracted state of mind?”
Faced with this relentless pressure, Kim Seong-ho hesitated a moment, then released a long breath.
“Hoo… Very well. Since you insist I speak, I will.”
With a hardened face he looked straight at Deputy Prime Minister Hwang Jang-chul.
“Ilhyeon Group does not intend to participate in the bid for Doa Motors.”
“What?”
Hwang Jang-chul doubted his own ears and asked again.
“You say you will not do what?”
Kim Seong-ho lifted his chin slightly, glanced toward the reporters, and spoke in a clear, ringing voice.
“Ilhyeon Group will not take part in the Doa Motors bid. That is the announcement I came here today to make.”
“What on earth… Why would you refuse to participate?”
Pop. Pop.
Cameras that had been lowered were already rising again; flashes burst toward Deputy Prime Minister Hwang and Headquarters Chief Kim Seong-ho.
Broadcast cameras had climbed back onto the cameramen’s shoulders, their lights blazing, recording every second of the exchange.
Yet of all the people framed in those lenses, only Kim Seong-ho remained unfazed by the storm of flashes and the whir of film.
The rest stood as if they had been struck across the skull by his words.
At the very gathering meant to fasten the first button of the new government—before anyone had even taken a seat—Kim Seong-ho had thrown a bomb.