By Min Seong-jae
I first heard about the political turmoil in Korea through a news headline that my American friend shared via social media on the morning of Dec. 4: “South Korean President Yoon declares an emergency martial law.” My groggy, half-awake brain misread the word “martial” as “marital,” and I briefly thought Korea had finally taken bold action to address its declining marriage and birth rates. But then I saw the image of armored vehicles and soldiers patrolling the streets of Seoul — and gasped. How naïve I had been.
Martial law. The word evokes Korea’s darkest political moments. The last time it was invoked was in 1980, when Chun Doo-hwan, a military dictator who seized power in a coup, declared martial law to suppress dissent. That crackdown resulted in the deaths of hundreds of innocent civilians during the Gwangju Uprising. Martial law, for many Koreans, symbolizes the oppression, human rights violations and violence that defined Korea’s turbulent modern history of democratization.
Fast-forward to 2024: President Yoon Suk Yeol’s decision to declare martial law as a political maneuver to suppress opposition lawmakers defies comprehension. Facing plunging approval ratings and mounting personal crises, Yoon resorted to martial law, citing election fraud and threats from North Korea. Both are convenient conspiratorial tropes. For his own political agenda, Yoon enacted a law that restricts press freedom, prohibits political activities, bans public protests and permits warrantless arrests of citizens. His absurd declaration of martial law lasted only about six hours, but its repercussions are seismic, opening a new political chapter for Korea. And it offers valuable lessons for other democracies worldwide.
Yoon’s impeachment is now a reality. His downfall wasn’t driven by the inherent absurdity of his actions, nor solely by institutional checks and balances or opposition resistance. Instead, it was the collective will of the people that overturned his overreach. Ordinary citizens took to the streets, voicing their dissent and reclaiming power from an overreaching president. Korea in 2024 is not the Korea of 1980. Decades of liberal democracy have fortified civil society, and a digitally connected population is politically informed and highly organized. Even soldiers, bound by duty to enforce martial law, questioned the legitimacy of Yoon’s commands and hesitated to follow orders.
Lawmakers from both ruling and opposition parties recognized the illegitimacy of Yoon’s actions and moved swiftly to impeach him. However, early attempts were blocked by political maneuvering as some lawmakers sought to exploit the crisis for their own political gain. Then the pressure from the public escalated. More people took to the streets. Their demonstrations were peaceful and even felt like a concert with a dose of K-pop. But their voices were loud and clear and the National Assembly finally acted decisively. Yoon has now been impeached, though final legal proceedings are pending before the Constitutional Court.
Some of my American friends asked me how an advanced industrial democracy like Korea could see the reemergence of martial law that limits political and personal liberties as well as freedom of expression. I answered I didn’t know because it is still incomprehensive to me as well. Yet, what I highlighted was the remarkable resilience of Korea’s direct democracy. The people — intelligent, vigilant and deeply aware of the hard-fought value of their freedoms — resisted a leader’s authoritarian overreach. Koreans understand that democracy was not simply handed to them; it was earned through decades of bloody struggles.
This recent episode in Korea should serve as a critical case study of how democracy functions — and how it can falter. Democracy is a rather fragile institution. Democratically elected political leaders may as well turn tyrannical as observed throughout history. Even in the world’s oldest democracies like the United States, there are presently serious concerns about authoritarian actions, wild conspiracy theories and political violence. Around the world, surveys also reveal a troubling decline in public commitment to democratic ideals, with growing support for strongman politics and authoritarianism. Such trends underscore the urgency of safeguarding democracy from within.
How do we counter these dire challenges? The answer lies in a renewed collective commitment to democracy, freedom and the rule of law. Democracy is more than elections and representative institutions; it is a culture, a spirit and a way of life. It cannot be taken for granted. Citizens must nurture and protect it, as the Korean people powerfully demonstrated. The events in Korea remind us that democracy’s survival depends on the vigilance and courage of ordinary people. That’s why many, especially those in the Western media, are keeping a close eye on the developments in Korea. It is a lesson democracies across the globe cannot afford to ignore.
Min Seong-jae ([email protected]) is a professor of communication and media studies at Pace University in New York. He was a 2023-24 Fulbright U.S. Scholar to Korea.
English (United States) ·