South Korea’s president is impeached
THE DAY of reckoning finally arrived for Yoon Suk Yeol, South Korea’s president. The country’s National Assembly voted on December 14th to impeach him for his short-lived attempt to impose martial law earlier this month. Outside the assembly, crowds of tens of thousands erupted into cheers and applause when the results were announced; demonstrators embraced and shed tears. “Into the New World”, a hit K-pop-song-turned-protest anthem, rang out from the speakers: “The end of wandering that I was longing for.”
The impeachment indeed ended ten extraordinary days. Late on December 3rd, Mr Yoon declared martial law—only to pull back early the following morning in the face of opposition from the parliament, the public and his own party, the People’s Power Party (PPP). But the PPP boycotted a first impeachment motion on December 7th. Following that disappointing result, “I was sad, so I went drinking,” says Kim Seong-nam, an electronics-company employee who has protested four times since the martial law declaration.
Mr Yoon’s defiant stance in the ensuing week turned even some in his own party against him. The PPP took part in the second impeachment proceeding, with 12 of its members voting in favour. That pushed the motion over the required two-thirds threshold, with 204 of 300 lawmakers voting to impeach the president. Mr Kim, like many of his compatriots, was thrilled: “I am happy, so I’ll go drinking!”
Yet the turbulence is far from over. The vote triggered Mr Yoon’s immediate suspension from office. The prime minister, Han Duck-soo, a career technocrat appointed by the PPP, is now acting president. He has sought to project calm to allies, investors and his own people, pledging to allow “no vacuum in state affairs”. His mandate, however, is limited and his political authority weak.
Mr Han will remain in charge of the country until the constitutional court issues a final ruling. The court has up to 180 days to do so but, given the urgency of the case, the proceedings may move more swiftly: justices took 92 days to uphold the impeachment of Park Geun-hye, a former president, in 2017; the impeachment of Roh Moo-hyun, one of her predecessors, in 2004, was overturned in just 64. The first public hearing in Mr Yoon’s case will be held on December 27th. “I hope they’ll rule quickly,” Mr Kim says. “The longer the uncertainty lasts, the more damage it does.”
The case is hardly straightforward. Following the retirement of three justices in October, only six of the nine seats are currently filled. Six affirmative votes are necessary to rule on impeachment; one of the justices is a conservative appointed directly by Mr Yoon. (The remaining seats may be filled before the case is heard.) Mr Yoon pledges to “never give up”. He will try to argue to the court that imposing martial law was within his authority as president, and that he followed proper constitutional procedures for doing so.
The court tends to take public opinion into account. Mr Yoon’s approval ratings have fallen to as low as 11%; some 75% of South Koreans believe he should be impeached. “The justices know where the South Korean people stand—just look at this crowd,” says Park Song-mi, a screenwriter, gesturing to an impromptu dance party that broke out near the National Assembly in the wake of the impeachment vote. If the court does uphold the impeachment, new presidential elections must be held within two months.
Mr Yoon also faces a possible separate criminal trial for treason. Investigators have already put him on a no-fly list and have tried to search the presidential office. He has thus far refused summons to appear for questioning. Ms Park, the former president, was first impeached and then convicted on corruption and abuse-of-power charges. In fact, Mr Yoon, a former prosecutor, made his name in part by leading the case against her. She served nearly five years of a 20-year sentence in prison, before being pardoned by Moon Jae-in, Mr Yoon’s predecessor.
For many Koreans, the sense of déjà vu is unsettling. “We didn’t quite work out the kinks last time,” Ms Park, the screenwriter, laments. Calls for more fundamental political reform are growing. When South Korea brought in democracy in the late 1980s, the country adopted a political system with a powerful president limited to a single five-year term and checked by a unicameral legislature. A more straightforward parliamentary system or introducing multiple but shorter presidential terms could help improve accountability and decentralise power.
The current system “has reached the end of its lifespan”, Yoon Young-kwan, a former foreign minister, argued in a recent column in the JoongAng Ilbo, a South Korean daily, noting that in the past four decades, four presidents have been imprisoned and now two impeached. “How long will we tolerate this kind of political situation?” For South Korea as a whole, the reckoning has only just begun. ■