<p>Cultural hits from Netflix show <em>"Squid Game"</em> to Oscar-winner <em>"Parasite"</em> have raised South Korean inequality to global prominence, and one presidential hopeful claims his working-class credentials make him the best man to fix a broken system.</p>.<p>Former child factory worker Lee Jae-myung, a school dropout maimed in an industrial accident as a teen, is the ruling Democratic Party's maverick candidate in the March 9 election.</p>.<p>A rarity for politicians in status-obsessed South Korea, Lee is playing up his rags-to-riches tale in a bid to convince voters he can solve their economic woes.</p>.<p>Sky-high real estate prices, stagnant growth and stubborn youth unemployment are among voters' top concerns in an election where polling is neck-and-neck and the campaign has been dominated by mud-slinging.</p>.<p>From universal basic income to government-funded hair-loss treatment, former mayor and provincial governor Lee is proposing a slew of unorthodox policies that his campaign says are a reflection of his impoverished childhood.</p>.<p><strong>Also read: <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/international/world-news-politics/south-korea-to-allow-special-voting-for-covid-19-patients-1081440.html" target="_blank">South Korea to allow special voting for Covid-19 patients</a></strong></p>.<p>"You can worry about people outside shivering in the cold while you sit in your warm living room," Lee told <em>AFP</em> in an exclusive interview in his campaign van.</p>.<p>"But you can never really understand their pain."</p>.<p>The opposition decries his proposals as populist, saying Lee is trying to "buy votes with free money" and will "burden the next generation with debt".</p>.<p>And a series of scandals have marred Lee's run for top office: his wife was accused of misappropriating public funds; he is being scrutinised over a suspect land development deal, and he is dogged by rumours of mafia ties.</p>.<p>He started his campaign by being forced to apologise for a profanity-laden family phone call, and was the subject of a controversial book describing his efforts to section his brother in a mental hospital.</p>.<p>Last year, his campaign published two photographs: one showing a floppy-haired young Lee in an ill-fitting suit, the other of teenage Yoon Suk-yeol, the presidential candidate for the People Power Party, in a bow tie.</p>.<p>It was an effort to hammer home the contrast between Yoon, raised in an affluent family, and Lee, who dropped out of school at 11 then put himself through night school.</p>.<p>Lee's story appears to resonate with supporters. At a recent rally in the central city of Cheongju, many waved placards saying: "Only those who know the pain of hunger understand the tears of the ordinary people."</p>.<p>But it is unclear whether it will be enough to propel him to victory in a tight race, with most recent polls falling within the margin for error. One survey released Tuesday showed Yoon in the lead by 2.5 per cent.</p>.<p>Political analyst Park Sang-byoung said how the candidates perform in two upcoming televised debates, and whether they can broaden their message to attract swing voters, would be decisive.</p>.<p>In the 1970s, Lee was working in a glove factory as South Korea underwent a rapid economic rise, largely driven by manufacturing.</p>.<p>Labour rights activist Chun Soon-ok, whose brother self-immolated to protest brutal working conditions in South Korean factories back then, said it was a terrible time for manual labourers.</p>.<p>"Managers at the time didn't treat us as human beings," she said.</p>.<p>Lee told <em>AFP</em>: "It was a repressive era and managers dressed in military uniform would beat up junior workers. I figured I could only save myself from a beating if I became a manager, a position that required a high school degree."</p>.<p>After his arm got stuck in a press aged 13, he was left permanently disabled and became "suicidal", but night school and a law school scholarship gave him a way out.</p>.<p>He became a human rights lawyer, before entering politics in 2010.</p>.<p>It is "unheard of" for a former child labourer to become an elected politician, said Lee Sang-don, a former MP who taught Lee law at university in the early 1980s.</p>.<p>Although other politicians such as former president Roh Moo-hyun have grown up poor, South Korea's legislature is dominated by the wealthy and well-connected, with most parliamentarians classed as millionaires according to their declared assets.</p>.<p>Lee's political rise has coincided with growing domestic concern over inequality, and his move in 2019 as governor of Gyeonggi province to give cash handouts to young adults captured the zeitgeist.</p>.<p>He also rolled out free school uniforms and free maternity care, and in early 2020 offered his constituents the country's first pandemic relief funds.</p>.<p>If he wins next month, he has pledged to expand his universal basic income scheme nationwide, saying he'll give 1 million won ($835) each year to every adult.</p>.<p>"I had to work in a factory because I couldn't pay for school," he told <em>AFP</em>, explaining his rationale.</p>.<p>"My parents were cleaners. I escaped poverty, but many around me are still stuck... I want to change the system."</p>
<p>Cultural hits from Netflix show <em>"Squid Game"</em> to Oscar-winner <em>"Parasite"</em> have raised South Korean inequality to global prominence, and one presidential hopeful claims his working-class credentials make him the best man to fix a broken system.</p>.<p>Former child factory worker Lee Jae-myung, a school dropout maimed in an industrial accident as a teen, is the ruling Democratic Party's maverick candidate in the March 9 election.</p>.<p>A rarity for politicians in status-obsessed South Korea, Lee is playing up his rags-to-riches tale in a bid to convince voters he can solve their economic woes.</p>.<p>Sky-high real estate prices, stagnant growth and stubborn youth unemployment are among voters' top concerns in an election where polling is neck-and-neck and the campaign has been dominated by mud-slinging.</p>.<p>From universal basic income to government-funded hair-loss treatment, former mayor and provincial governor Lee is proposing a slew of unorthodox policies that his campaign says are a reflection of his impoverished childhood.</p>.<p><strong>Also read: <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/international/world-news-politics/south-korea-to-allow-special-voting-for-covid-19-patients-1081440.html" target="_blank">South Korea to allow special voting for Covid-19 patients</a></strong></p>.<p>"You can worry about people outside shivering in the cold while you sit in your warm living room," Lee told <em>AFP</em> in an exclusive interview in his campaign van.</p>.<p>"But you can never really understand their pain."</p>.<p>The opposition decries his proposals as populist, saying Lee is trying to "buy votes with free money" and will "burden the next generation with debt".</p>.<p>And a series of scandals have marred Lee's run for top office: his wife was accused of misappropriating public funds; he is being scrutinised over a suspect land development deal, and he is dogged by rumours of mafia ties.</p>.<p>He started his campaign by being forced to apologise for a profanity-laden family phone call, and was the subject of a controversial book describing his efforts to section his brother in a mental hospital.</p>.<p>Last year, his campaign published two photographs: one showing a floppy-haired young Lee in an ill-fitting suit, the other of teenage Yoon Suk-yeol, the presidential candidate for the People Power Party, in a bow tie.</p>.<p>It was an effort to hammer home the contrast between Yoon, raised in an affluent family, and Lee, who dropped out of school at 11 then put himself through night school.</p>.<p>Lee's story appears to resonate with supporters. At a recent rally in the central city of Cheongju, many waved placards saying: "Only those who know the pain of hunger understand the tears of the ordinary people."</p>.<p>But it is unclear whether it will be enough to propel him to victory in a tight race, with most recent polls falling within the margin for error. One survey released Tuesday showed Yoon in the lead by 2.5 per cent.</p>.<p>Political analyst Park Sang-byoung said how the candidates perform in two upcoming televised debates, and whether they can broaden their message to attract swing voters, would be decisive.</p>.<p>In the 1970s, Lee was working in a glove factory as South Korea underwent a rapid economic rise, largely driven by manufacturing.</p>.<p>Labour rights activist Chun Soon-ok, whose brother self-immolated to protest brutal working conditions in South Korean factories back then, said it was a terrible time for manual labourers.</p>.<p>"Managers at the time didn't treat us as human beings," she said.</p>.<p>Lee told <em>AFP</em>: "It was a repressive era and managers dressed in military uniform would beat up junior workers. I figured I could only save myself from a beating if I became a manager, a position that required a high school degree."</p>.<p>After his arm got stuck in a press aged 13, he was left permanently disabled and became "suicidal", but night school and a law school scholarship gave him a way out.</p>.<p>He became a human rights lawyer, before entering politics in 2010.</p>.<p>It is "unheard of" for a former child labourer to become an elected politician, said Lee Sang-don, a former MP who taught Lee law at university in the early 1980s.</p>.<p>Although other politicians such as former president Roh Moo-hyun have grown up poor, South Korea's legislature is dominated by the wealthy and well-connected, with most parliamentarians classed as millionaires according to their declared assets.</p>.<p>Lee's political rise has coincided with growing domestic concern over inequality, and his move in 2019 as governor of Gyeonggi province to give cash handouts to young adults captured the zeitgeist.</p>.<p>He also rolled out free school uniforms and free maternity care, and in early 2020 offered his constituents the country's first pandemic relief funds.</p>.<p>If he wins next month, he has pledged to expand his universal basic income scheme nationwide, saying he'll give 1 million won ($835) each year to every adult.</p>.<p>"I had to work in a factory because I couldn't pay for school," he told <em>AFP</em>, explaining his rationale.</p>.<p>"My parents were cleaners. I escaped poverty, but many around me are still stuck... I want to change the system."</p>