Welcome to BASE21

Inside the National Assembly building, representatives from the ruling and opposition parties are deep in discussion. The matter being debated is Article 87 of the Integrated Election Laws. As it stands, the law prohibits election campaigning by anyone other than the candidate and his party. The negotiators agree upon an amendment that allows non-governmental organizations to participate in election campaigns, but bans them from holding rallies for or against a particular candidate. Civic-group leaders are not impressed. "Not enough," says environmental activist Choi Yul in a press conference. "We want nothing less than a repeal of this black law."

Welcome to South Korea's new political landscape, where NGOs involve themselves in not only social but political issues - and have the clout to make a difference. If there is one thing the country is not short of, it is civic groups. Currently, there are nearly 70,000 such organizations that are registered with various local administrative bodies. The largest and most active of these groups number about 500, according to a spokesman for the Citizens' Coalition for Economic Justice.

The CCEJ itself is one of them. Led by a progressive-minded lawyer named Lee Suk Hyun, it has nationwide operations and was responsible for unveiling the first list of 164 politicians that kicked off the blacklisting campaign. There is also the People's Solidarity for Participatory Democracy, whose mission is to bring about "fundamental changes" in the economic and political spheres. The PSPD is known for fighting against the chaebol for minority shareholders' rights. Other notable civic groups include the Coalition for Political Reform and the Coalition for Press Reform.

Such organizations boast not only the numbers but a distinguished history. They can claim a lineage that goes back to the underground movements of the 1980s, which fought against the military regime of strongman Chun Doo Hwan. In many cases, the civic groups have the same personnel as their predecessors. Among those involved in the struggle against Chun were radical students who fought pitched street battles against riot police. Many of them went on to call for reunification with North Korea and educate workers on their right to form unions and seek collective bargaining. Through their activities, the students helped nurture a progressive element in Korean society.

Fast forward to 2000. The students are now established members of society. They belong to a demographic stratum dubbed the "386" generation - in their 30s, went to university in the '80s, born in the '60s. In an analogous situation to the Baby Boomers of America, this generation has lately been under much scrutiny and attention, its members hailed as representing the future of South Korea.

And so they may. A majority of activists involved with civic groups belong to the 386 batch. Tempered by their fight against military rule (and often by a stint in jail as well), many now pursue respectable careers as lawyers or doctors. But they still hold on to their cause - for fairness, equality, democracy and unification - and make up the backbone of new liberal thinking.

Given the idealism of their (recent) youth, it is perhaps no surprise that the 386 people are less tolerant of corruption, inequity and injustice. The same day Article 87 is being discussed, civic-group members watch as 62 lawmakers sign a pledge to strictly follow election laws. "What you have seen today is just the beginning of a long campaign," says political activist Kim Min Sik. The 386 generation has come of age, and South Korea may never be the same again.