Putting Democracy to the Test
4th December 2024
Last evening, my wife told me something unusual had happened in South Korea. I’ve been battling a COVID infection since last week and wasn’t following the news much. Then I saw the headlines: the President of South Korea had declared martial law. My first reaction was utter disbelief. I quickly reached out to friends inside and outside South Korea, many of whom have long been involved in the country’s democratic movement. My friends in South Korea were awake in the early morning hours, deeply concerned. Here’s what my good friend Lee Jai Eui, author of The Kwangju Diary, wrote:
“I woke up around 1:30 a.m. to a flood of KakaoTalk (WhatsApp equivalent in South Korea) notifications and was shocked to see news of President Yoon Suk-yeol declaring martial law across South Korea on December 3, 2024. On social media, the news of the ‘martial law declaration’ was spreading rapidly. Fortunately, the internet was still working. Reactions from numerous acquaintances were pouring in through social media. Many of them couldn’t understand the declaration of martial law. Neither could I.
A year ago, the movie Spring of Seoul captivated over 10 million viewers in South Korea, recounting events many believed would never recur in the country’s history. The film depicted the December 12, 1979, military coup led by Chun Doo-hwan and illegal military groups. This coup culminated in the tragic Gwangju pro-democracy protests five months later, where many lives were lost in a brutal massacre. For much of today’s younger generation, these events seemed distant and irrelevant.
Now, citizens, recalling the dark days of the 1979 military coup and the 1980 Gwangju Uprising, poured into the streets and blocked military forces from entering the National Assembly. Social media became the lifeline of resistance as the president’s attempt to suppress democracy was met with overwhelming opposition.
The timing of this crisis is striking, as South Korea prepares to celebrate novelist Han Kang’s Nobel Prize in Literature for Human Acts, a work memorializing the Gwangju tragedy. Her award brings hope and pride in a moment of turmoil, reminding us of the enduring spirit of democracy and resilience.”
Like my friend Lee, when I first heard the news, it brought back vivid memories of 1979. That year, General Chun Doo-hwan declared martial law in the aftermath of President Park Chung-hee’s assassination. At that time, South Koreans were yearning for democratic reforms after decades of military dictatorship. Protests erupted on university campuses nationwide, but it was in Gwangju that the resistance persisted, with students and later citizens joining in. The military’s brutal crackdown in May 1980, carried out under martial law, left a legacy of horror and trauma. Many activists, labor leaders, students, and journalists were arrested, tortured, imprisoned, or even killed. It took years to lift martial law, and the damage it inflicted on South Korea’s social fabric was profound.
However, the repression also laid the groundwork for a resilient civil society. Many activists went underground, and progressive publications like The Hankyoreh, born during that period, are now mainstream. The fight for democracy culminated in the nationwide June 1987 protests, when students and activists demanded not only an end to martial law but also the restoration of democracy and the rule of law.
I was reminded of my conversation with late Eugene Soh, a South Korean activist, about the dark days of military rule and martial law in the 1980s and 1990s, and this is what he told me: “We want the military back in their barracks. We do not want further military intervention in the politics of our country. Freedom and rights need to be protected at all costs.” This sentiment reflects a hard-earned consensus among Koreans, even as the nation remains technically at war with North Korea, divided by the 38th parallel and the Demilitarized Zone.
President Yoon cited national security threats from the North as justification for martial law. Yet, his decision defies comprehension. How could a seasoned politician so profoundly misunderstand the democratic ethos of his own society? The people’s response to his declaration made it clear that such measures have no place in South Korea.
Despite attempts to block parliamentarians from entering the National Assembly, citizens gathered outside, assisting lawmakers in climbing over walls to reach the compound. The scenes outside the National Assembly building were tense, with fully armed military personnel attempting to prevent congressmen from entering. Despite this, many lawmakers successfully made their way into the building. Once inside, they took decisive action, barricading the doors with furniture to block the military from gaining entry, turning the National Assembly into a stronghold of defiance. By the early hours of December 4, nearly 190 lawmakers—across party lines—convened and unanimously voted to invalidate the martial law declaration. Faced with inevitable defeat, President Yoon rescinded the declaration, making it perhaps the shortest-lived martial law in history.
What happened in South Korea last night was a test of democracy, and the country passed with overwhelming resolve. Even those too young to remember 1979 instinctively understood the gravity of the situation. Nobody wanted a return to the days of military rule. The swift reaction of parliament and the public reaffirmed the values of democracy and the rule of law.
This highlights the profound value that South Korean society places on democracy. To an outsider, South Korea may appear solely as a highly technologically advanced and prosperous nation, albeit one occasionally marred by economic and political scandals. However, the country’s democratic ethos runs deep.
For my friend, Lee Jai Eui, it was a scary moment. As a student activist, Lee has been arrested, detained and tortured inhumanely in the aftermath of the uprising in Gwangju in 1980. The trauma still lives on and what happened today, makes such trauma worse.
“Even now, I often suffer from nightmares due to the horrific scenes I witnessed in 1980. When I wake up from such nightmares, my underwear is always soaked with sweat. Last night, I spent a time as if I had a nightmare in reality. It is often said that history repeats itself if we do not reflect on it. Could it really be true?
This time, it was a suffocating situation where the nightmare might be reenacted in reality. As memories and reality intertwined, my mind became confused again. Watching the tense moments unfolding in the National Assembly with bated breath, I felt both fear and pain. On my computer, I received several messages from acquaintances in the US and Europe asking if I was safe. At that moment, I briefly worried that security personnel might soon storm into my house. At that time, it was common for those involved in student movements to be suddenly arrested at home under “preemptive detention” when martial law was declared. However, I shook my head strongly as if to deny these memories.
After a while, my head cleared, and the fear subsided. On TV, brave citizens were seen blocking the police and soldiers. They were loudly protesting to the soldiers, saying, “How can martial law be suddenly declared in a democratized South Korea in 2024? Have you forgotten the lessons of the massacre in Gwangju in 1980?” It was a tense moment. It was a situation where a bloody tragedy could occur.
Shortly after, the National Assembly’s main hall showed lawmakers passing a resolution demanding the immediate lifting of martial law by the president. After a while, soldiers were seen withdrawing. One of the withdrawing soldiers was seen bowing several times to the citizens, saying, “I’m sorry.” “Of course, it should be like that…” At that moment, I thought that the blood shed in Gwangju in 1980 had taught our young generation a lesson, which is why such a scene was being played out.
As the tension eased, I felt my eyes closing. Before I knew it, the morning sunlight was shining brightly outside the glass window of my house.”
For the South Korean people, there exists a fundamental principle that must never be compromised: the sanctity of democratic freedoms. These freedoms were severely suppressed during past periods of martial law, leaving a lasting imprint on the nation’s collective memory. Thus, any move to declare martial law provokes an immediate and visceral reaction from the public.
Significantly, this reaction often transcends partisan divides. In a remarkable display of unity, even ruling party lawmakers joined the opposition in rejecting the declaration of martial law, underscoring the strength and resilience of South Korea’s democratic spirit. The President’s own staff announced their resignations, and the defense minister also offered to step down. In a remarkable turn of events, South Korea’s top military general called on troops to “protect the people.” This reflects a significant shift in the military’s ethos over the decades. It is a stark contrast to the same military that, in 1980, brutally suppressed students and citizens during the Gwangju Uprising, resulting in a massacre that remains a painful chapter in the nation’s history.
This ordeal, while deeply unsettling, has sent a powerful message: threats to democracy must be confronted immediately and decisively. Delayed action only makes such threats harder to reverse. The South Korean people have won, democracy has triumphed, and a strong warning has been issued to any future president: do not undermine the democratic principles and rule of law that the country holds dear.
As I write these final words on the 4th December, the National Assembly of South Korea is preparing impeachment proceedings against President Yoon. This moment stands as a powerful affirmation of South Korea’s democratic resilience and a stark reminder that democracy can endure only with vigilance and collective action.