South Koreans determined to pursue the path of recovery

On a strangely quiet motorway in the mountainous region of Tang yang, at the heart of the Korean peninsula, an old woman has set out her stall offering hot soup and cold watermelons, grown by her son, to the occupants of the vehicles which sporadically thunder past.

She'll be lucky if she makes more than a dozen sales throughout her long day but appears unconcerned. She has plenty of food and will earn enough to get by.

Having lived through a massively destructive conflict over 40 years ago and years of Cold War tension, with a resumption of hostilities between North and South apparently never far away, it is enough.

South Korea is approximately the same size as Ireland and, notwithstanding the birth of the Celtic Tiger, seems to have achieved considerably more in terms of economic and infra structural development and agricultural production over the last 30 years.

Each scrap of land is farmed and the evidence that virtually every house, however ramshackle, doubles as a shop-front is demonstrable proof of how committed the people are to ensuring their own and their country's economic success.

Due to the harsh terrain, with mountains consuming much of the arable land, what can be farmed is at a premium and no waste whatsoever is permitted.

Even the green verges that flank the motorways are used to grow cabbages, grapes and ginseng and, when the sun shines, traffic islands and the under-employed portions of the hard shoulders are used to dry chili peppers, a key ingredient of most Korean dishes.

The manner in which South Korea has in recent years exposed political corruption and punished the offenders is exemplary, as is the pride the people take in their own country and their determination to succeed, no matter how insurmountable the odds.

Due largely to its strategic importance, on the borders of Russia and China, and its proximity to Japan, Korea has been invaded 900 times by its neighbours over the last 2,000 years. Its people have been forced to live under brutal regimes. It was, and remains, partitioned, has been decimated by war, yet has overcome its history to become one of the shining economic beacons across Asia and the world.

The beacon dimmed two years ago as the leading economies of East Asia crumbled in the face of economic mismanagement, currency crises and political scandals. While it is early days in the recovery process, the prognosis is good.

It is hard to draw any other conclusion but that this is largely due to the resolve of the people, prepared to work long hours, with only one week's annual holiday, in order to provide for their families and ensure that they never return to the dark post-war days when annual per capita GNP stood at a miserly $100.

They are spurred on by a social welfare system which is, at best, scant, with no safety net for those unable to sustain themselves.

It is virtually unheard of to see South Korean white or blue collar workers take to the streets in search of better conditions or hear of farmers seeking assistance from outside organisations to fund their endeavours.

Students, on the other hand, are famed for their riotous behaviour in the face of what they view as the unacceptable political corruption and militaristic tendencies of past leaders.

One thing workers, farmers and students share, however, is the pride they take in driving only Korean-made cars, watching Korean-made televisions, communicating on home-made phones and computers and eating homegrown food. To do anything else would be virtually treasonable.

Abuse of political power is similarly frowned upon. In 1996 two former presidents were indicted on charges of accepting bribes from the main chaebols, or conglomerates, that dominate the economics of the country.

Chaebol executives admitted providing former presidents Roh and Chun with sums totalling over $2 billion during a 14-year period as the country made its transition from military dictatorship to democracy.

Eight days after the charges were levelled against Roh, he appeared on television, admitted abusing his position by amassing a fortune of more than $600 million and promised to "accept wholeheartedly any punishment you hand out to me". Within weeks and without recourse to lengthy tribunals, he was found guilty of fraud and sentenced to life in prison.

The investigation quickly turned on the man he had succeeded, Chun, who was considerably less apologetic despite the fact that he had embezzled almost $1.8 billion. He too was tried without ceremony and, due to his recalcitrance, sentenced to death. Both had their sentences commuted at the end of 1997, but their sins have not been forgotten.

Attention now has turned on the chaebols that provided the slush funds for their retirement. Many have been found guilty of illegal internal trading among subsidiaries and are facing massive restructuring and, in some cases, dismantling by a government intent on restoring confidence in Korean industry.

"For the Korean economy to survive and make another leap forward, continuing reform and openness are a must," President Kim Dae-Jung said on a recent trip to Australia.

And while most South Koreans share Mr Kim's view that the economic downturn of recent years was a blip, others fear that, through the pursuit of monetary wealth, South Koreans run the risk of forgetting who they are, of sacrificing their culture before the altar of the almighty dollar.

"We are running, running very fast but I don't think we know where we are going," a tour guide told me with a shake of his head. He refused to accept any money for an illuminating tour of the Palace of the Chosun Dynasty in Seoul, preferring to practise his English and share part of the cultural heritage he fears many of his countrymen are too anxious to dispose of.

It is unusual for someone to voice such fears.