Five ministerial nominees have failed to win appointment since the Lee Jae-myung administration took office. After Lee Jin-sook for the education ministry, Kang Sun-woo for the gender equality and family ministry and Lee Hye-hoon for the Ministry of Planning and Budget, two more fell in the Aug. 30 cabinet reshuffle. Yong Hye-in, the nominee for minister of gender equality and family, withdrew on the 13th of last month. At a news conference on the 18th of the same month, President Lee Jae-myung said it was "our fault and our shortcoming" and pledged to review the personnel vetting system. The next day, Kim Seung-won, the nominee for justice minister, also stepped down. The fault the president acknowledged was a failure to prepare for additional problems that came to light — in other words, inadequate vetting. But repeating the phrase "vetting failure" does not reveal what lies behind the turmoil. There is a more important question. When someone judged that a nominee had a problem, who told the president, "This person will not do"? If no one did, why not? If someone did, why was it not accepted?
Appointing ministers is the president's prerogative. That does not mean the president acts alone. There are people who recommend nominees, vet them and raise objections. Kang Hoon-sik, the presidential chief of staff, offered to resign on the 21st of last month, after the string of failed nominations, saying he was taking comprehensive responsibility. The opposition has alleged that a so-called "Gyeonggi-Seongnam line," including Kim Hyun-ji, head of the presidential office's first secretariat, and Jung Jin-sang, former political coordination chief for the Democratic Party leader, was involved in the appointments. The governing bloc has dismissed this as a baseless conspiracy theory. For now, allegations must be strictly distinguished from confirmed facts. But whichever side is right, this is not a matter that ends with one chief of staff's offer to resign. Who recommended, who vetted, who objected and who made the final call must be made clear.
Here we encounter a problem larger than appointments. Has anyone in our government told the president, "No"? Will anyone do so going forward?
Lee Suk-yeon, who recently stepped down as chairman of the national unity committee, left behind a meaningful remark. His point was that he had returned to public service "to be loyal to the constitution, not to be loyal to the administration." He also asked that the candid advice he had offered, at the risk of appearing discourteous, be reflected even slightly in the conduct of state affairs. Back in January, during the controversy over nominee Lee Hye-hoon, he had already questioned whether any of the current aides was capable of raising problems with the president and urged them to speak plainly. The former chairman said he appeared to have been seen as an obstacle as the government pushed state affairs forward in lockstep, and that this was why his term was not extended. That his candid advice was the reason his term was not renewed is, however, entirely his own assessment.
What matters is not Lee Suk-yeon's own standing. How those who say uncomfortable things near power are treated sends a signal to the entire organization. If people believe that those who quickly read the president's intent are the ones who get ahead, ministers and aides will pass along what the president wants to hear rather than the facts. Information does not travel from the bottom up; only the president's intent travels from the top down.
President Lee has also stressed the need for dissent. At a Cabinet meeting on Aug. 11, he drew a line against viewing differences among ministries as "discord," saying that ministers debating, coordinating and reaching a conclusion is a democratic process. He also said it is desirable to accept counterarguments even on policies already decided. That is correct. If so, the principle must not apply only to disagreements among ministers. It must apply to dissent directed at the president as well. If ministers may disagree with one another but no one may disagree with the president, it is hard to call that genuine debate.
A failed appointment and the declaration of emergency martial law cannot be weighed equally. But the question of who must object, when and how forcefully in the face of power is the same. Testimony emerged that Cabinet members objected at the time of the Dec. 3 martial law declaration, but the special counsel countered that presidential office CCTV footage showed no conduct aimed at preventing the declaration.
The courts looked at actions rather than words. The trial and appellate courts found former Prime Minister Han Duck-soo guilty of playing a key role in insurrection. The appellate court held that he had abandoned the duties of prime minister and had taken part in lending procedural legitimacy to the martial law declaration. The final ruling rests with the Supreme Court.
Now the question becomes clearer. In the face of a decision that could determine the fate of the nation, does responsibility end with saying, "I objected"? The graver the matter, the more forceful the advice must be. At times the words required are not "please reconsider" but "Mr. President, you must not do this." Apart from legal liability, there is also responsibility for staying silent when one should have spoken.
Ministers and presidential aides are not the people best at guessing what the president wants. They are the people who must stake their expertise and their conscience as public servants to tell the president even the facts he does not want to hear. The responsibility to speak candidly and the responsibility to decide are different. Aides must not hide their objections, and the final judgment after hearing them belongs to the president. Objecting before a decision is not insubordination. Once the president makes a final decision after sufficient debate, it must be carried out unless it is unconstitutional or unlawful. But no one should evade responsibility by concealing their own judgment, going along with the president's wishes and then saying, after things go wrong, "It was the president's decision."
Three things are needed for this. First, objections must actually reach the top at major meetings chaired by the president. It is not enough for the president to ask once, "Any other views?" The more important the policy or appointment, the more a procedure is needed for hearing the opposing case first.
Second, ministers' authority to exercise judgment must be respected. A minister is not someone who relays the president's instructions to a ministry. A minister is a manager of state affairs who stakes their name on policy in their field, makes judgments and answers for the results. Responsibility must not be demanded without granting authority, and a minister who makes no judgments must not simply be handed a post.
Third, the role of presidential aides must be set right. As much as conveying the president's thinking to the government, they must bring uncomfortable facts from the field and dissenting views to the president. Bad news must reach the president faster than good news.
The same applies to appointments. The person who is formally accountable and the person who actually wields influence must not be different people. Those who vet must find the risks, and aides must state those risks without concealment. But the final judgment belongs to the president. Those who are accountable must make judgments, and those who make judgments must be accountable.
A good president is not one who judges everything alone. A good president is one who makes it possible for others to voice judgments that differ from their own. Nor is a good aide someone skilled at guessing the president's wishes. A good aide is someone who can bring the president to a halt when the president is headed down the wrong path.
Telling the president "no" is not betrayal. It is a way of protecting the president and the government from a wrong judgment — and, in the end, of protecting the people.
