Sungmoon Kim's new book, Confucian Democracy in East Asia, begins with the foundational question of whether the Western model of liberal democracy is in fact the right one for East Asian nations. As Kim notes, most of us have accepted and internalized the teleological narrative that liberal democracy is the only possibility for nation-states operating in a modern free world, and that nations that do not fit the mold (e.g., authoritarian-communist regimes) are aberrations that are still “in the process” of transitioning. Of course the architects of these aberrant systems—most glaringly those of China and North Korea—reject the inevitability of transitioning to liberal democracy. But still, it is easy for Western academics and political leaders alike to fall into the temptation of believing that these holdouts will eventually find their way.

Kim's book challenges the inevitability of Western liberal democracy on a different front. Kim begins with the question of whether the liberal democratic system is appropriate for East Asian societies that are “deeply saturated” in “Confucian habits and mores” (p. 19). Because East Asian citizens operate based on a Confucian sensibility—whether they are self-aware or not (p. 10)—Kim argues that “it is both culturally and politically futile to attempt to transplant a Western-style liberal democracy on them” (p. 90). The overarching purpose of the book, then, is to convince readers that a different kind of democracy, one that Kim describes as a “Confucian pluralist democracy” (p. 21), is necessary in East Asia.

The book is structured around three conceptual sections. In part 1, Kim lays the groundwork for his normative claim that Confucian democracy is a more appropriate sociopolitical system for East Asian nations by first clarifying what he does not intend. Arguing against advocates of “Confucian communitarianism” and “meritocratic elitism”—the former for confounding ontology and civil ethics (p. 45) and the latter for their thinly veiled privileging of the “epistocracy of the elite” (p. 94)—Kim argues that a “decent Confucian democratic governance” can only be attained if a “Confucian civil society” is nurtured to ensure “the aristocracy of everyone” (p. 97). In part 2, Kim identifies the virtues that undergird this Confucian civil society, including most importantly filial love and familial moral sentimentalism (what he calls “critical affection”). In part 3, Kim illustrates the merits of Confucian democracy by assessing the South Korean case through the exploration of the social practice of chŏng, which is “the Koreans' familial affectionate sentiments” (p. 207).

Kim approaches his subject with a deep erudition that pervades the three parts of the book. Notwithstanding the thorough engagement with philosophical debates about Confucian virtues, even going back to the essential ideas of progenitors (Confucius and Mencius), Kim's book is at the core a normative statement that is concerned more with application than abstract debate. Because of this overt practical goal—for example, “This is a book about democracy, a democracy that is culturally relevant and politically practicable in Confucian East Asia” (p. 18)—Kim's analysis of the Korean case is critical. The state of democracy in contemporary South Korea is contested. Some, such as Samuel Huntington, have praised South Korea as an exemplary case of democratization during the “third wave” of transitions that swept Southern Europe, Latin America, Africa, and Asia from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. Others, however, worry about the extent of democratic consolidation and highlight the deep social and political cleavages in South Korean society that compromise the democratic process. Perhaps, as Kim claims, what South Koreans need is a democratic system that envelops the “Confucian political/civic culture, which binds the citizens horizontally” (p. 117).

If the arguments presented are to stand, Kim needs to address two shortcomings of the book. The first is the practical exercise of articulating what a functioning Confucian democracy actually looks like. While there is a great deal of scholarly discussion of Confucian virtues and rituals, the book is surprisingly silent about how the ideals of filial love, critical affection, and chŏng can be manifest in the everyday business of governance. It is telling that Kim's analysis of South Korea's transition to democracy in 1987 limits the motivations of protestors against authoritarianism to their “embodied Confucian moral sensibilities” (p. 280). According to Kim, “in the minds of the Korean people, democracy was envisioned in terms of the ideal Confucian benevolent government as opposed to autocracy by military dictators” (p. 280). While this may very well have been the unspoken sensibility of democracy advocates (how will we ever know?), what Kim fails to mention is that the tactical slogan that brought together disparate segments of the democracy movement (e.g., the main organizing coalition group, the National Committee for a Democratic Constitution) was the admitted practical goal of reinstating “direct presidential elections.” That is, the master frame of the democracy movement at the critical moment of transition focused on democratic procedures, rather than abstract moral sensibilities about the nature of government and society. Again, this is not to say that culturally pertinent moral sensibilities are not relevant, but it behooves an advocate of a practically applicable Confucian democracy to explicate how filial love and chŏng will inform the mundane practice of democracy, including, for example, voting systems, political party configurations, balance of power between branches of government, and the general rule of law.

A second, and arguably more important, concern is the lack of a critical discussion of the relationship between Confucian virtues and the major social and demographic transitions South Korean society is undergoing today. Kim argues that “[c]hŏng is at the heart of Confucian public culture in Korea . . . [including] a multitude of social practices, such as filial and fraternal love and responsibility, respect of elders, moral criticism and rectification of government, and social harmony” (p. 284). Aside from the alarmingly optimistic (and problematic) statement that these Confucian moral sentiments will resonate with “any reasonable Korean” (who gets to define what is “reasonable”?!; p. 284), how do we understand filial love and respect for elders when most all empirical data have shown that what is driving up the national suicide rate (the highest among OECD nations) are the suicides of senior citizens and further, that poverty, depression, and alienation are the most cited reasons for elderly people's suicide? How do we make sense of the harsh, repressive response of the “democratic” government against citizens who “morally criticize” their leaders (e.g., the Sewol ferry disaster protests in 2015)? How do we reconcile the argument that Confucian familial sentiments pervade South Korean society when the data show that the rates of divorce, single-parent families, and single-person households have all dramatically increased—some describing these enormous demographic shifts as the utter collapse of the Korean family structure? Maybe we can explain away these discrepancies as simply the disjuncture between social-moral ideals and empirical reality, between what East Asian citizens value and what actually is. Perhaps . . . but surely for someone who wants to create a Confucian democratic system, these issues must be directly addressed if the suggested system is to be “culturally relevant and politically practicable” (p. 18).