Just a year ago, the South Korean president, Yoon Suk Yeol, addressed the UK parliament with a speech that praised the country as the birthplace of liberal democracy. He pledged that South Korea would join with the UK in promoting freedom, peace and prosperity for the international community.
This week, Yoon made an apparent U-turn in his admiration for democracy, throwing the country into turmoil by calling for emergency martial law. In a televised address to the nation, he claimed there was a need to protect the country from “shameless, pro-North Korean, anti-state” forces. He also said it was time to “rebuild and protect” South Korea from “falling into ruin.”
Within a few hours, lawmakers inside the National Assembly chamber and citizens in the streets outside swiftly and decisively reversed Yoon’s decision and forced him to back down. It was a robust demonstration of South Korean democracy at work.
It was a reminder that this is a very different Korea to the one that emerged from the grip of persistent military dictatorships and frequent imposition of martial law in the late 1980s.
Members of the National Assembly, some of whom had climbed fences and pushed past military barricades to get into the chamber, voted unanimously against Yoon’s abrupt decree, declaring it illegal. Members of Yoon’s own People Power party said he had gone too far. After the vote, lawmakers stood outside the National Assembly building and calmly but firmly described the call for martial law unconstitutional.
It is no secret that Yoon has been facing growing adversity since becoming a lame duck president because of the landslide gains made by the opposition Democratic party in the parliamentary elections in April this year. Having only won the presidency in 2022 by a tiny margin, Yoon’s approval rating had been weakened by persistent scandals.
Within Yoon’s first year, public opinion polls showed that six in ten South Koreans were feeling that their democracy was heading on a downward trajectory. By 2024, Yoon had pushed through unpopular policies on issues like maximum working hours and foreign policy towards Japan. This resulted in just 32.7% of South Koreans reporting that they were satisfied with the quality of their democracy.
Since losing control of the National Assembly, Yoon has attracted the ire of the public by making liberal use of his presidential veto to block bills being passed by the opposition – more often than any other president since democratisation. Yoon also vetoed independent investigations into his wife’s alleged involvement in accepting luxury gifts, stock manipulation and attempting to interfere with the nomination of election candidates.
The tipping point was likely efforts this week by the majority opposition to slash his government’s budget – something that falls outside the scope of a presidential veto.
Frustrated at not getting his way on the budget, Yoon resorted to a trope not unfamiliar to some on the right of Korean politics. He effectively accused the progressive opposition of colluding with North Korea in a bid to undermine his leadership.
These are dangerous claims, with no basis in contemporary South Korean politics. In 1980, similar claims about North Korean involvement in southern domestic affairs led to the military massacring citizens in the southwestern city of Gwangju. The protesters had been calling for an end to martial law imposed by the then president, Chun Doo-hwan.
Faith in democracy
Although dictatorship lies firmly in South Korea’s past, fears of democratic backsliding surface from time to time among the South Korean public.
In 2017 millions of protestors took to the streets, eventually ousting the then-president, Park Geun-hye, following allegations of corruption and restrictions on freedom of speech. Her government’s blacklisting of thousands of artists and performers from receiving government funding on political grounds had been particularly unpopular.
But despite episodes such as this, 80% of South Koreans today say they feel proud of the contributions of democratic movements to societal progress. It’s an indication of South Korea’s faith in the power of the people to hold their leaders to account.
While Yoon’s own party chairman immediately condemned his actions, members of Yoon’s inner circle must have known what was going to happen. Speculation is therefore rife that those around Yoon who condoned the decision are woefully out of touch with public sentiment, in light of the immediate mass backlash.
In calling for martial law in a very different 21st-century Korea, it is likely that Yoon has hastened his own demise. By resorting to such an extreme measure he risked both South Korean and regional economic and political stability.
Had the situation persisted, a state of martial law would have wreaked havoc on hard-won advancement in Korea’s attraction as a site of foreign investment, high-tech industry collaboration, tourism and popular culture.
Yoon will have much to answer for in the coming days and weeks, and at the time of writing, the progressive opposition have begun impeachment proceedings. It is unlikely his political career will survive the fallout from this grave error of judgment.
Sarah A Son is senior lecturer in Korean Studies, University of Sheffield
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
