Asia | South Korea’s wild night
Martial law(戒严法) in South Korea—and then not. What comes next?
A rash（轻率的）, unexpected move by Yoon Suk Yeol, the president, tests South Korean democracy
DECEMBER 3RD began as an uneventful（平淡无奇的） early-winter day in Seoul, South Korea’s capital. Many went to sleep soundly that evening. By the time the sun rose the next morning, the country’s president, Yoon Suk Yeol, had declared martial law, attempted to forcibly（强行地） take control of the National Assembly—and then abruptly reversed course. The extraordinary turn of events has thrust his country into chaos, called the future of his presidency into question and tested the strength of South Korean democracy.
The wild night began with an unexpected address by Mr Yoon at around 10.30pm local time, announcing the imminent（即将来临的） imposition of martial law. The decree（法令、政令） banned all political activities and limited media freedom. It was the first use of such emergency powers since the country’s military dictatorship（独裁统治） fell in the late 1980s. Providing no evidence for his claims, Mr Yoon alleged that the National Assembly, which is controlled by his political opponents in the Democratic Party (DP), had “become a monster” that threatens democracy. He implied that they collaborated（cooperate） with North Korean “communist forces”.
Although successive constitutions have weakened the presidency and given more authority to parliament（国会）, South Korea’s system remains one in which the president wields tremendous power（行使巨大的权利）, including over the security services（安全部门） as commander-in-chief（最高统帅）. Following Mr Yoon’s statement, armed forces deployed（部署） to the parliament building in Seoul and riot police（） lined the roads.
「Armed force(s) 武装力量； Armed Forces Day军人节，建军节」
The counterreaction came swiftly. Thousands of protesters took to the streets to demand the president back down, chanting “Arrest him!” The mood was one of outrage mixed with utter shock. “It feels like Yoon just got drunk and suddenly announced this late at night—it makes no sense,” quipped one protester. “Is this reality?” asked another. Currency markets shuddered, sending Korea’s won down by as much as 3% against the dollar. The Bank of Korea held an emergency meeting on the morning of December 4th to discuss the turbulence and vowed to stabilise markets by ramping up operations.
American officials expressed “grave concern”, suggesting they had no advance warning from their treaty ally, which hosts nearly 30,000 American troops. Even Mr Yoon’s own administration was left flat-footed. “This is the sole decision by the commander-in-chief,” says a source in the presidential office. “It was a huge surprise to most of the staff here, and the cabinet members as well.”
Political opposition to Mr Yoon mobilised throughout the night. The DP said in a statement that the president’s declaration of martial law was “essentially a coup d’état”. The head of Mr Yoon’s own People’s Power Party came out against the move, calling on the armed forces and police “not to follow unlawful or unfair instructions”.
As heavily armed troops stormed the parliament, the 190 lawmakers who had barricaded themselves inside the chambers, a majority of the 300-strong body, voted unanimously to revoke the president’s decree just over two hours after it took effect; the armed forces began to leave shortly after. Just after 4am Mr Yoon made a second televised address, announcing he would respect the National Assembly’s will and lift his martial-law order, and troops deployed to enforce martial law returned to their bases.
Mr Yoon, a conservative former prosecutor, took office in 2022 after narrowly defeating Lee Jae-myung, the DP’s leader. In office he has proved a divisive leader, alienating not only his opponents from across the aisle, but many of those who had initially supported him. Scandals have also marred his image, in particular allegations surrounding his wife, who was caught on video accepting a luxury handbag as a gift. His approval ratings slid to below 20% last month, down from 53% when he first took office.
The DP swept general elections to retake control of parliament this spring. (The feverish campaign season included an assassination attempt on Mr Lee.) Mr Yoon entered into a standoff with the newly hostile parliament, refusing to attend its opening session on September 2nd, the first time a South Korean president has done so since democratisation. Last week the parliament voted to trim Mr Yoon’s budget for next year.
Mr Yoon may have thought he could pre-empt his opponents by taking action first. Yet his move went far beyond the bounds of normal political activity in democratic South Korea, evoking instead the tactics of Park Chung-hee, a military dictator who ruled the country in the 1960s and 1970s. “He’s used the nuclear bomb,” says Victor Cha of the Centre for Strategic and International Studies, an American think-tank.
By setting it off, Mr Yoon seemingly hoped to save his administration. Instead, he has almost certainly sealed his own downfall. On the afternoon of December 4th, opposition lawmakers submitted a motion to impeach Mr Yoon. That would require a two-thirds majority vote in parliament and trigger a trial by the constitutional court. (Mr Yoon’s party controls 108 seats in the assembly.) The process could drag out for months, leaving an interim president in charge and the political system in limbo. Whenever new elections are held, the DP candidate would be favoured to win.
The foreign-policy implications of a change in power in Seoul would be vast—and come at a sensitive time, as Donald Trump prepares to take office in America and North Korea takes an ever more hostile stance towards the South. During his tenure, Mr Yoon has deepened his country’s alliance with America, stabilised a troubled relationship with Japan, and provided indirect support for Ukraine by backfilling American stocks of ammunition. He has also taken a hawkish approach towards North Korea, which has entered into a new security pact with Russia. The DP tends to be deeply sceptical of Japan, due to grievances over its colonial-era atrocities, and to favour engagement with North Korea; it has opposed calls to provide direct military aid to Ukraine.
The sordid episode also speaks volumes about the state of South Korean democracy. On the one hand, if Mr Yoon does indeed back down and is replaced through a constitutional process, South Korea’s system will have survived an enormous stress test. But the fact that he turned to such an extreme measure points to a deeper malaise. Political polarisation has become deeply entrenched, with the opposing camps viewing each other as mortal enemies.
Misbehaviour by political leaders, followed by aggressive criminal prosecutions of them, is all too common. Earlier this year Mr Lee, the DP leader, was himself convicted on charges of lying to investigators about a bribery case, calling into question his ability to run for president again. (He denies the charges and plans to appeal.) Park Geun-hye was impeached as president in 2016 and sentenced on corruption charges; her predecessor, Lee Myung-bak, was also convicted of bribery after leaving office; and his predecessor, Roh Moo-hyun, committed suicide under a cloud of corruption allegations. The latest fiasco could become an opportunity for the country to reflect and regroup—or it could fuel further division and enmity.