Tough Stuff

The only name that counts with the peasants of South Korea is Syngman Rhee. If it were left to the peasants. 77-year-old Dr. Rhee would probably be re-elected President this month. But under the republic's U.N.-sponsored constitution, the election of the President is the business of the National Assembly, which has had an opportunity of observing the heavy-handed political methods of Dr. Rhee at close quarters. Dr. Rhee's personally loyal 60,000-man police force and his penchant for jailing critics of his government's corruption have aroused strong opposition to his reelection. Last week Dr. Rhee took steps to see that he would remain President.

First, he declared a state of martial law. Next, he had his police jail eleven National Assembly members whom he accused of being involved in a Communist plot, seize a twelfth on a murder charge, and arrest eleven citizens on a charge of plotting to assassinate him. The actions brought stern rebukes from a U.N. commission in Korea and the U.S. Embassy, and a flying visit from Eighth Army Commander Van Fleet. Said Rhee blandly: "There is no connection between politics and the arrest of the Assemblymen . . . The arrests will continue." Vice President Kim Sung Soo resigned in protest. The National Assembly voted 96 to 3 to lift martial law. But many Assembly members, afraid to go home, slept in the old Shinto shrine which serves as Assembly chamber. The next day Rhee's new Home Minister. tough Lee Bum Suk, sent a battalion of the South Korean National Police to Pusan.

A major internal crisis threatened Korea, but the U.N. hardly knew how to intervene. Above the 38th parallel, Communists were sharpening their pencils. Roughshod old Syngman Rhee was a propaganda gift.

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