Korean politics fails at basic water management

The history of Korea’s economic development is also a history of infrastructure. Dams across the country, though less celebrated than highways and nuclear power plants, are indispensable. The Soyanggang Dam and Paldang Dam, both completed in the 1970s, sustain the daily lives and industries of about 20 million residents in the Seoul metropolitan area. Even half a century later, the region still depends on these dams, underscoring the foresight of earlier generations.

Yet dam construction and flood control projects have long been stalled by environmental disputes and local resistance. Since 2000, only a few dams, including the Gunwi, Gimcheon Buhang, and Seongdeok dams, have been built. The Lee Myung-bak administration’s Four Major Rivers Project had value in preventing floods and securing water resources, but it largely proceeded as a stopgap after the grand canal plan fell through. The push to spend 22 trillion won and finish within a single term also fueled controversy. Deep polarization between left and right has turned water management into a constant political battle.

The drought in Gangneung, Gangwon Province, shows no sign of easing and is not merely about climate change. With little meaningful rainfall, the Obong Reservoir has fallen to the low-10-percent range. Some apartment complexes already face water shutoffs, leaving residents unable to wash properly.

The timing is the bigger problem: the drought struck in September. On the Korean Peninsula, droughts have typically arrived in spring. Water stored in reservoirs and dams during the summer monsoon is used through autumn and winter, leaving shortages in spring. When monsoon rains and typhoons returned, droughts usually eased. A September drought makes such natural relief unlikely.

Although Gangneung is a flagship city on the east coast, its vulnerability in securing drinking water has long been noted. Without a major river like the Han, reliable intake sources are scarce. The Doam Dam was built in Pyeongchang in 1990, but runoff from upland vegetable farms and livestock facilities along the Taebaek Mountains degraded its water quality, leaving it effectively unused. Some urge stricter management to bring the dam back online, while others still call for dismantlement. Pollution sources upstream have been known since the early 2000s, yet instead of fixing them, authorities have left the dam idle.

During the extreme drought in northwestern South Chungcheong in 2015, authorities at least built an emergency intake channel from the Geum River’s Baekje Weir. That was possible because the Four Major Rivers work had left ample water to draw. Gangneung has no such alternative. The dispute over Doam Dam has dragged on for more than two decades without progress, while residents’ hardship has only grown. In effect, beyond praying for rain, there is little else to do.

When drought hits, the government dispatches fire trucks and helicopters and announces a flurry of measures. Once it rains, the urgency fades. Whether the answer is building large multipurpose dams, constructing underground dams, or repurposing existing ones, fundamental solutions have stalled. Water policy requires compensating those who bear the burden, planning for the next century, and brokering social consensus. Politics should mediate and deliver that settlement, but instead it stokes conflict and resolves nothing.

What is unfolding in Gangneung is not a local climate anomaly. It is a snapshot of a society unable to move forward. If politics keeps ignoring long-term planning and wallowing in conflict, today’s Gangneung could become tomorrow’s Seoul metropolitan area and tomorrow’s semiconductor plants. If the government and political leaders cannot even resolve water shortages, what problems can they hope to tackle?