SEOUL, South Korea — The U.S. has been transfixed in recent weeks by the spectacle of the indictment of ex-President Donald Trump — the first time in the country’s nearly 250 years as a sovereign country that a former U.S. leader has charged with criminal activity, let alone 34 felonies.

But while pro- and anti-Trumpers pondered the implications of a precedent shattered, the brouhaha compelled a Korean-American academic to pose this question on social media: Has the student – South Korea — overtaken the master – the U.S. – in the practice of democracy?

Despite an astonishing political revolution in recent decades that has provided a bedrock for the country’s economic surge, perhaps no other democracy is as keen at putting its ex-presidents in the dock. Despite boasting free elections, a free press and a strong judicial system, South Korea’s former leaders have routinely been jailed, sentenced to death and even committed suicide amid judicial probes after they leave office.

Is it a healthy sign that no man — or woman — is above the law here? Or is it a sign of still-pervasive political corruption and a system that seems to promote taking legal action against the once high and mighty? With Mr. Trump’s case now dominating the headlines, South Koreans themselves seem divided over the issue.

“There are two contending theories,” said Moon Chung-in, a high-profile academic who has advised three separate Seoul administrations. “One is that these are political prosecutions, and the other is that there is no exception to the rule of law.”

“I would say the jury is still out,” added Shin Hee-seok, a director with the Transitional Justice Working Group. “Having experienced all these ex-presidents either getting arrested or killing himself, there is a risk that once you start turning to prosecutors or investigators, it has a tendency to create dangerous precedents.”

Dangerous, indeed. Being South Korean president is one of Asia’s riskiest professions.

The worst job in politics?

Consider the record.

South Korea was founded in 1948. Its first president, Rhee Syngman, was driven into exile in Hawaii in 1960 after police gunned down student demonstrators. Subsequently, President Park Chung-hee, who seized power in a coup, ruled harshly while engineering the country’s “economic miracle” was spared that humiliation: He was assassinated by his intelligence chief in 1978.

Chun Doo-hwan, another ex-general who seized power and was blamed for the killing of over 200 pro-democracy protesters in 1980, was sentenced to death after he left office. His successor and right-hand man, ex-Gen. Roh Tae-woo — the first democratically elected president after the military juntas — got a life sentence after stepping down for his participation in past coups and for human rights abuses.

The next two presidents, Kim Young-sam and Kim Dae-jung escaped the slammer — but both saw sons jailed for corruption. The next ex-president, liberal Roh Moo-hyun, committed suicide in 2009 amid probes into alleged familial corruption.

The two subsequent presidents, conservatives Lee Myung-bak and Park Geun-hye were both jailed for corruption. Ms. Park’s successor, the progressive Moon Jae-in, under whose term Mr. Lee and Ms. Park were sentenced, remains free.

When Mr. Lee was jailed in 2018 for allegedly embezzling roughly $22 million, American Enterprise Institute scholar Olivia Schieber observed: “Half of all living former South Korean president are now in prison.”

From the public gallery, this may appear like just desserts. However, none of the condemned presidents actually served their full sentence: All received political pardons, usually for the sake of “national unity.” Even the widely despised Chun escaped the hangman.

It’s a similar pattern for many of South Korea’s leading business figures. Many have been convicted of white-collar crimes but released early, usually with judges citing their importance to the economy.

Fair justice or political vengeance?

South Korean political analysts say legal prosecution has historically been used as a political bludgeon.

“The office of the president has quite a profound influence over the prosecutor’s office,” said Mr. Moon, the former presidential advisor. “The direction of investigations is influenced by the presidential office.”

But some argue that the legal woes of ex-presidents represent nothing other than political payback by the opposition party after it assumes office. The close ties between politicians and business leaders typically means it is not hard to build a corruption case.

“The entire [presidential] MO is to use the corruption of the other side — of which there is some — to justify your own rule and elevate yourself,” said Michael Breen, Seoul-based author of “The New Koreans.”

Even so, Mr. Breen sees one upside.

“The only progress that Koreans would feel is that they are no longer afraid of their leaders,” he said. “But they are not able to adjust to having honored and respected ex-presidents.”

Critics say another downside of the South Korean experience is the empowerment of over-ambitious prosecutors — a criticism that has found an echo among Mr. Trump’s supporters in the U.S.

“A lot of prosecutors in South Korea see it as micro-heroism if they indict ministers or a president,” said Mr. Moon. “They have big egos and want to leave a historical record — ‘I indicted such and such a person’ — and that is a bad habit.”

AEI’s Ms. Schieber argued the serial prosecutions of presidents was not a healthy sign: “Rather, they reveal how tenuous South Korea’s hold on democracy really is.”

Making things worse, the critics say, is that the endless string of pardons for high-profile criminals generates even more popular cynicism about the political process.

“You see so many of them getting out of jail early, so there is a double standard,” said Mr. Shin, who is affiliated with the law department of Seoul’s elite Yonsei University. “I wonder if all of this does not create some level of cynicism about the political and judicial systems.”

Mr. Breen warns Americans against letting political partisanship infiltrate judicial practice.

“I am not saying that Trump is not guilty, but the glee with which it is being received — ‘At last we have got him, and the details don’t really matter!’ — while those who are crying foul are all supporters, gives you a sense of what is going on here.”

• Andrew Salmon can be reached at asalmon@washingtontimes.com.