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The return of the old logic of the '86 generation’

put it more bluntly. “Look at them. In the end, it’s always the 86 generation. How many decades are they going to dominate politics?” The “86 generation” refers to Koreans born in the...

The return of the old logic of the '86 generation’

Ko Jung-ae

The author is the editor-in-chief at the JoongAng Sunday.

A recent article by a fellow reporter covering the by-election in Incheon’s Yeonsu-A district included a striking line: “The 86 generation still believes only they can lead, operating within their own closed league. Yet they are not cultivating younger successors.” A few weeks earlier, a Democratic Party (DP) acquaintance in his 50s who has spent decades in the party put it more bluntly. “Look at them. In the end, it’s always the 86 generation. How many decades are they going to dominate politics?”

Song Young-gil, right, the Democratic Party candidate in the by-election for the National Assembly seat in Incheon’s Yeonsu-A district, delivers opening remarks during a Supreme Council meeting in Incheon on April 24. From left are party leader Jung Chung-rae, Incheon mayoral candidate Park Chan-dae and Song. [News1]

The “86 generation” refers to Koreans born in the 1960s who entered universities in the 1980s, participated in student and labor movements during the democratization era and later entered politics. Most are now in their late 50s to early 60s.

In “Democratic Party 1999–2024,” former Rep. Woo Sang-ho, once a Yonsei University student council president and one of the symbolic figures of the 86 generation, reflects on his generation’s political origins. He describes how the May 18 Gwangju Democratization Movement and the military rule of Chun Doo Hwan shaped their formative experiences. He also recounts how former student activists began preparing for political participation in 1999 through a group called “Korea’s Future, the Third Force.”

Woo lists dozens of participants by name, many of whom later became major political figures within the DP. They include Kim Kyung-soo, Kim Tae-nyeon, Song Young-gil, Ahn Hee-jung, Lee In-young, Lim Jong-seok, Jung Chung-rae and Cho Jung-sik, among many others. Another long list follows of politicians who rose through later parliamentary elections, including Kang Gi-jung, Park Beom-kye, Park Hong-keun, Yoon Ho-jung, Lee Kwang-jae, Chun Joon-ho and Hwang Hee.

Woo nevertheless argues that “the 86 generation as a group did not succeed.” He criticizes his generation for reinforcing factional politics within the DP and for failing to fight more thoroughly against inequality and social polarization. He also admits that the generation failed to speak out strongly enough when liberal administrations fell short of public expectations. The self-criticism appears partly inspired by comparisons with Germany’s more reformist and inclusive 1968 generation.

Yet looking through the long list of names, what stood out was less regret than power and pride.

In the actual game of acquiring, maintaining and expanding political power, the 86 generation has been overwhelmingly successful. Its members dominate in numbers and longevity. They have also survived repeated calls for retirement. The 2019 Cho Kuk scandal was one such moment of crisis, but the group defended itself aggressively. Woo once said he felt insulted by claims that the generation had become part of the political establishment. Former DP floor leader Park Hong-keun similarly argued, “Did we become party leader? Did we become president?”

But Woo’s own list suggests otherwise. The generation has produced party leaders, senior ministers and even potential National Assembly speakers such as Cho Jung-sik. Their influence arguably surpasses the old alliance of military academy graduates and elite bureaucrats that once drove Korea’s industrialization.

Part of this dominance stems from the collapse of the conservative camp itself. Former President Yoon Suk Yeol’s declaration of martial law made the 86 generation’s old narrative of “democracy versus antidemocracy” sound persuasive again. Yet there is also a sophisticated internal structure of power sharing among them. Even when policy differences emerge, they act collectively to preserve influence.

That pattern appeared again in the June 3 election. Members of the 86 generation both distributed nominations and received them. When Woo decided to run for Gangwon governor, Lee Kwang-jae stepped aside. Lee was then rewarded with a National Assembly nomination of his own. Song Young-gil was also carefully accommodated when he risked being pushed aside by presidential aides. Differences were postponed in favor of preserving and expanding the group’s political influence.

The result is fewer new faces in politics. The acquaintance quoted earlier remarked that the group tends to promote only younger politicians who remain obedient.

If the 86 generation had truly evolved through self-reflection, perhaps new leadership would not be necessary. Yet its worldview often appears frozen in the logic of 30 years ago. Politics is still framed as a struggle between absolute allies and enemies, where opponents must be destroyed and allies are justified regardless of circumstance. Conservatives may be even more disorganized, but that alone does not make the old logic any less troubling.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

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