Young Seoul rebels: 'If we don't act, nothing will change'
It’s minus-three degrees outside South Korea’s parliament building, the National Assembly, and Jeong Seung (22) is swaddled in a blanket to stay warm. Like many of the young protesters here, she has been sitting on the pavement in the frigid temperatures all night.
“I don’t usually take much notice of politics but when I saw on the news that President Yoon had declared martial law, I thought I had to do something,” says Jeong, a university student. If we don’t act, nothing will change.” Her handwritten sign, taped to a stuffed toy, says “Yoon must go”.
High-schooler Ye-jun (18) says she came late on Saturday night on the bus from Sejong, nearly two hours from the South Korean capital, Seoul. “I thought my parents would be against it but when I said I was coming here to demonstrate they said ‘Okay, stay safe’.”
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As we chat, a man shouts angrily at the police officers guarding the entrance to the assembly: “Shame on you! Think for yourselves!”
Until recently, many of these young Koreans might have been hard pressed to name Yoon Suk Yeol, a right-wing public prosecutor who was a relative unknown to politics when he narrowly won the presidency in 2022.
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But last Tuesday, he stunned one of Asia’s most vibrant democracies when he declared martial law and ordered troops into this building to enforce it. His decree, issued late at night, would have outlawed all political activities, banned strikes and put the media under tight government control.
Yoon tried to tap into old fears of North Korea’s malignant influence in the south, citing “anti-state activities”, a tried-and-tested strategy by his predecessors who sought to control political dissent. South Korea’s constitution allows presidents to declare martial law during “war-like situations or other comparable national emergency states”.
Six hours later, the decree had been lifted by parliamentarians but not before chaotic scenes, as military helicopters circled the assembly, and armed troops and police scuffled with demonstrators outside the building.
On Saturday night, thousands of protesters, waving torches and carrying banners, were back outside parliament to witness Yoon resign or be impeached. They got neither. In a brief speech, the president said he was “very sorry” for the martial law decree, but declined to fall on his sword, effectively delegating the decision on his fate to his conservative People Power Party (PPP).
Screens set up at the protest rally showed PPP politicians march out of parliament to avoid a vote on impeaching Yoon, serenaded by the jeers from opposition lawmakers in the liberal Democratic Party (DP). The impeachment vote needed eight PPP lawmakers to pass. PPP leader Han Dong-hoon said the situation needed to be handled “with care and stability”. Outside protesters screamed: “This is no longer a parliament that represents the people.”
“Sure, I’m angry at the president for trying to bring in martial law, but also at the politicians who didn’t show up to vote,” says Jane Rhee (22), a student at Seoul National University. “They are letting us down again.”
South Koreans learn from their parents and teachers about the last time martial law was issued in 1979, when dictator Chun Doo-Hwan closed the universities, banned the political opposition and silenced the media.
A year later, university students protesting against the law were beaten, tortured, raped and killed by the military. With US-government approval, the army violently suppressed a rebellion in the city of Gwangju, killing hundreds of people.
“I read about that period but never experienced it,” says another young protester who declined to be named. “Many of us feel that we need to be here today to make sure it doesn’t become part of our future, as well as our past.” As for Yoon, she says: “He’s totally shameless.
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The Gwangju Uprising was a milestone in the struggle to end authoritarian rule. Seven years later, nationwide demonstrations forced the government to hold direct elections for president. Mass protests have since become a feature of life in the south: in 2017 they led to the impeachment of Park Geun-hye, who was subsequently arrested for corruption and sent to jail for 24 years.
Ironically, the first time many took notice of Yoon was when he prosecuted a corruption case against Park in 2016. But his popularity has fallen since taking office and in April the DP handed his party a crushing defeat, reducing him to lame-duck status.
Yoon’s wife, Kim Keon Hee, is also deeply unpopular, amid allegations that she has accepted gifts to peddle political favours. Many of the students are also angry that the National Assembly voted on Saturday against a Bill calling for an investigation into the claims.
“The politicians have betrayed the people”, says Rhee. “We have to stay here and keep attention on this issue. We will stay until it is resolved.”
