South Korea in Crisis: Yoon Suk Yeol's Martial Law Gamble and Its Aftermath

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Yoon Suk Yeol, the president of South Korea, has found himself in increasingly turbulent waters over the past year. His approval rating plummeted, and the pressure seemed to mount daily. A staggering number of doctors—thousands—had been on strike for almost an entire year, vehemently opposing his health care reforms. Meanwhile, the opposition in Parliament didn’t let up either, continuously pushing for investigations into his wife’s controversial actions, as well as seeking to impeach members of his cabinet over allegations of corruption and abuse of power. Despite his best efforts, lawmakers repeatedly blocked his political appointments and key pieces of legislation. The situation was looking bleak, and it seemed like no matter what he tried, the political gridlock only deepened.

But on one fateful Tuesday night, in a move that could only be described as his boldest gamble yet, Mr. Yoon did something extraordinary. In a nationwide televised address, he declared martial law—the first such decree in South Korea in decades. This declaration was made in a desperate attempt to break the political deadlock, but also to safeguard his administration and the country itself. He argued that the country was under siege by what he described as “pro-North Korean” and “anti-state forces.” In an effort to quell dissent, the martial law banned political activities, civil gatherings, and even “fake news.” It was, by all measures, an extreme measure, one that seemed to echo darker periods of South Korea’s history.

However, this momentous decision ended almost as quickly as it began, and in the most dramatic and unexpected way.

The public reaction was swift and fierce. Thousands of South Koreans poured into the streets, chanting "Impeach Yoon Suk Yeol!" The opposition in Parliament wasn’t about to sit idly by either. Lawmakers scaled the walls of the National Assembly as citizens pushed back against police forces. It wasn’t long before the situation escalated to the point where parliamentary aides were using furniture and fire extinguishers to block the path of armed paratroopers who had been sent to occupy the Assembly. The tension was palpable. Inside the Assembly, lawmakers from Yoon’s own People Power Party joined forces with opposition members to unanimously strike down the martial law. Six hours after he declared it, Mr. Yoon appeared on television once again, only this time, his message was a complete reversal. He announced that the martial law decree had been retracted.

The entire ordeal was a spectacle that would go down in history as one of the shortest-lived and most bizarre episodes in South Korea’s modern political history. South Korea has witnessed its fair share of military coups and martial law declarations in the past, especially during the military dictatorship that ended in the late 1980s. But this was something entirely different—a once-thought unthinkable scenario in a country that had come to pride itself on its vibrant democracy.

The ramifications of Mr. Yoon’s actions were immediate and profound. On the following Wednesday, opposition parties, which controlled the legislature, swiftly moved to submit an impeachment bill against the president, citing his unconstitutional martial law declaration. A leading conservative daily, Chosun Ilbo, which had often been sympathetic to Mr. Yoon, published an editorial condemning him for “insulting” South Korean democracy. This was a striking shift in the narrative. For South Koreans, the last time a leader declared martial law was back in 1979 when the military dictator Chun Doo-hwan seized power in a bloody crackdown, which included a massacre of pro-democracy students.

In the wake of the declaration, political analysts were quick to weigh in on the state of Mr. Yoon’s political future. Some, like political scientist Sung Deuk Hahm, were adamant that Mr. Yoon’s best course of action was resignation. "As tragic as it may seem, what happened overnight showed the resilience and durability of South Korean democracy," Hahm remarked. Many experts, including those who had long observed Mr. Yoon’s presidency, were deeply skeptical that he could survive politically after such a blunder. "I don’t think he can finish his five-year term," said Kang Won-taek, a political scientist at Seoul National University.

Despite the backlash, Mr. Yoon’s office defended his decision, describing the martial law declaration as an “inevitable measure” in accordance with the constitution, aimed at “restoring and normalizing the state of affairs” in light of the ongoing political paralysis. However, this explanation did little to quell the uproar or shift public sentiment.

Behind the scenes, Mr. Yoon’s growing despondency was becoming increasingly apparent. Over the past several months, a string of scandals—particularly those involving his wife, Kim Keon Hee—had escalated, adding to the already immense political pressure. According to sources familiar with his state of mind, Mr. Yoon had become increasingly unstable under the weight of this pressure. "Things have become too much for him," noted Professor Hahm. “He became mentally unstable under political pressure.”

Mr. Yoon was said to be surrounded by a small circle of loyal aides, many of whom were former military generals. These individuals, according to a former aide, were not used to questioning the president’s decisions. This circle of advisors, isolated from broader perspectives, raised questions about how thoroughly Mr. Yoon had thought through the consequences of his actions. It became clear that even within the government, no one had been aware of the martial law declaration in advance. Top military generals along the North Korean border were reportedly caught off guard when the news broke, and the response from the armed forces was far less decisive than previous martial law declarations in the country’s history. In fact, paratroopers dispatched to the National Assembly retreated without any violence after lawmakers voted to overturn the martial law.

The origins of this crisis can be traced back to the start of Mr. Yoon’s presidency. Before he became the president, he was a highly regarded prosecutor, known for his role in imprisoning two former South Korean presidents. His rise to power in the 2022 elections was largely driven by public discontent with his predecessor, Moon Jae-in, but Mr. Yoon was ultimately a political outsider, unfamiliar with the intricacies of governance. He won the election by a razor-thin margin, staking his claim on promises of significant political and social change.

However, his domestic agenda faltered almost immediately. Despite his efforts to push through ambitious reforms, opposition parties gained even more control in the National Assembly during the parliamentary elections of 2023. The opposition not only blocked his policies but accused his administration of using the power of prosecutors and criminal investigations to silence dissent and intimidate political opponents. Media outlets critical of the administration were also targeted for spreading what Mr. Yoon labeled “fake news.” His approval rating sank to a staggering 20 percent, and his confrontations with the opposition continued to escalate. On top of all this, the ongoing investigations into his wife, who faced allegations of corruption, further tarnished his image.

One of the most striking elements of Mr. Yoon’s leadership style was his tendency to surround himself with loyalists, including old colleagues from his time as a prosecutor and even high school friends. He became known as something of a “tribal leader,” placing individuals he trusted in key government positions. But this approach began to backfire, especially after his falling-out with Han Dong-hoon, a former ally and prosecutor who Mr. Yoon appointed as justice minister. Their relationship soured over disagreements related to his wife’s investigations, and Mr. Yoon began to view Han as a betrayer.

As the situation spiraled, Mr. Yoon’s decision-making appeared more erratic and impulsive. Political analysts speculated that the president might have felt cornered, perhaps even paranoid, leading to his drastic move to declare martial law. "He must have felt that he was surrounded by enemies and that he needed to take bold action," suggested Ahn Byong-jin, a political scientist at Kyung Hee University.

The chaos surrounding Mr. Yoon’s martial law decision raises serious questions about the president’s future and the resilience of South Korea’s democracy. It serves as a reminder of the volatile nature of politics and the fine line between power and downfall. While Mr. Yoon’s decision was ultimately reversed, it has left a lasting impact on his administration, with his political future now hanging by a thread. As one of the United States' most important allies in Asia, South Korea finds itself in a moment of unprecedented political upheaval, and the world is watching to see what comes next.