Temporary Roof

Japan is moving toward democracy and China toward Communism. Thrust out into the sea between them lies Korea, which is moving in both directions. Last week President Truman asked Congress for $150 million of ECAid to keep South Korea stable after U.S. occupation forces complete their withdrawal in a few weeks. If South Korea falters, Communist North Korea will gobble it, and that, in turn, would encourage anti-democratic forces from Japan around to India.

Congressmen wanted to know why Truman thought he had a better chance to hold South Korea than South China.

Neither Harry Truman nor anybody else could give firm guarantees on South Korea, or any other area in Eastern Asia. The anti-Communist position was flimsier than the grass roof of a Korean house; the best that could be argued was that ECAid might keep off the Red rain until stronger protection was built.

"Go Away." Last week TIME Correspondent Sam Welles toured South Korea and got a net impression of hope--hope in the midst of danger from within and without, from Right and from Left. His report:

One day last week a cavalcade of jeeps with 60 Seoul police rattled up to the headquarters of the Korean National Assembly's Special Committee on National Traitors. Disarming guards, they stormed through the building, grabbing documents and arms and arresting the committee's special police. When the committee's chairman tried to stop them, the head of the raiders snapped, "We do this on the personal orders of President Rhee."

At that point, Korea's Chief Prosecutor

Kwon Sung Yul arrived on routine business. "Go away," growled a policeman. When Kwon tried to pass, a rifle barred his way. He angrily explained he was the country's chief law officer.

"Then you can enter," said the policeman, "but I must search you first." He found a pistol which he promptly took. "I have a pistol permit from your own police chief," Kwon shouted. The policeman laughed. "Nobody except us is going to be armed during this raid," he said. "Enter now if you like."

In two weeks, only 500 U.S. troops will remain to train and advise the new South Korean army which faces the big, well-organized Communist army of North Korea along the 38th Parallel. Without internal stability the South might soon be easy pickings for the North. This week's raid was the sharpest episode yet in the struggle between the Korean administration and its legislature over how to achieve that stability.

The government relies on the police, most of whose key officials are hated because they originally worked for Japan. The country is under modified martial law, and there are frequent arbitrary arrests. Since the government took over from U.S. military authorities last August, it has closed 16 newspapers and magazines. The latest was the Seoul Shin Mun, the country's largest newspaper. A government spokesman explained that Shin Mun had "reprinted only 40% of official releases in the past four months and is therefore clearly anti-government."

Skulk, Ribs, Eardrums. Legislators feel that the one sure way to stabilize the country is to fire officials who use Japanese methods. The National Assembly claims that the administration never really enforced the national traitors' law against Koreans who collaborated with the Japanese. An Assembly committee established its own jails, courts, investigators and armed police and hauled in collaborators, including high officials of the regular police. Last week's police raid disrupted this Assembly "law enforcement" system.

Next day at the Capitol, assemblymen charged police with torturing men arrested during the raid. Police set free 22 prisoners, of whom 16 had skull injuries or broken ribs or punctured eardrums.

Old (74) President Syngman Rhee tried to calm the storm by replacing the Minister of Justice with pistol-toting Prosecutor Kwon, who had got his gun back from the police with an abject apology. But Rhee said that the Assembly committee could only question suspected collaborators and not arrest them. At week's end there was an uneasy truce.

The very vigor with which the Assembly opposes the administration when it feels its prerogatives threatened is evidence that a base for democracy exists in South Korea. Along with their colorful squabbles, legislative and executive branches are also capable of cooperating to strengthen that base. This week's dispute did not halt work on the new land reform law which by a shrewd double play may give South Korea a large, stable class of small farm owners, plus a business class that it now lacks. During Japan's rule almost all Korean industry and large areas of choice farmland became Japanese-owned. Farm families are 70% of the population, and three-fourths of them were landless tenants. Under the proposed law on which the Assembly is now working, no person may own more than 7 1/2 acres.

The state will buy out big landowners and, in turn, be paid for the land by small farmers with a fraction of their crop for several years. The state will pay landlords in certificates which they can use to buy shares in former Japanese industries from the government.

The Garden of Faith. Long before this reform can be completed, South Korea faces immediate dangers. Farm production is not rising rapidly enough to feed 2,000,000 refugees from the north. Korea formerly had a closely knit economy, and both areas now suffer from the fact that the Communists do not permit trade across the border. The $150 million requested by Truman will be used mainly for raw materials and industrial products which formerly came from North Korea.

Meanwhile, the Communists are increasing the military pressure with raids across the border. Brigadier General William L. Roberts, who will head the U.S. military advisory group in Seoul, estimates that 100,000 Korean veterans of the Chinese Communist army have recently returned to North Korea. They will add their strength to 200,000 Soviet-trained Korean veterans.

Nevertheless, South Korean troops show determination to defend their country. Americans here (including some with long experience in China) insist that the Koreans are a much better bet politically and militarily than the Chinese were.

Despite their peril, South Koreans still hope as well as fear. At Kaesong, a border city which North Koreans often raid (they killed 30 people there last fortnight), I visited the lovely garden of a wealthy Korean. The owner had moved to Seoul months ago, fearing Communists would nab him. But his gardens are perfectly kept. The head gardener, surprised by my surprise at this, explained: "He hopes to come back. What is any garden but an expression of faith in the future?"

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