SEOUL, South Korea – Seoul was largely calm Wednesday after a shock overnight political crisis ended with parliamentarians and citizens smothering an attempt by conservative President Yoon Suk Yeol to impose martial law.
That outcome speaks to the resilience of democratic culture entrenched in the country’s institutions, politics and citizenry since South Koreans won full democracy in 1987, after decades of authoritarian governance, experts said.
Analysts said that restraint by the military and an apparent lack of planning by Mr. Yoon and his aides contributed to the swift reversal of his plans. One pundit called the attempted three-hour imposition of martial law, “the shortest in history.”
The embattled Mr. Yoon has yet to comment on his next steps, but demonstrators Wednesday evening were massed in central Seoul to march on the presidential compound. Traffic continued to flow through the streets of the capital.
Vague rumors circulated among media of a second attempt to impose martial law.
The main discussion topic, however, was how Mr. Yoon’s presidency – set to run through spring 2027 – will end: by resignation or impeachment.
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An impeachment motion signed by lawmakers was filed in the National Assembly Wednesday afternoon. The motion needs a two-thirds majority to pass the 300-person chamber. It is expected to go to the vote on Friday or Saturday. The main opposition, the Democratic Party of Korea holds 170 seats, so needs other parties’ support.
Mr. Yoon’s misjudgment may deposit the keys of the presidential office in the hands of firebrand opposition leader Lee Jae-myung, head of the leftist DPK.
That shift would impact U.S. regional policy. A Lee administration is likelier to be more North Korea-friendly than Mr. Yoon’s, and more hostile toward Tokyo.
Mr. Yoon’s foreign policy centered on rapprochement with Japan, enabling a nascent, U.S.-led trilateral security framework to emerge in a region where China, North Korea and Russia converge.
Tuesday night’s events hold grave implications for South Korea’s right wing. The last conservative president, Park Geun-hye, was impeached, deposed and jailed in 2017 amid a corruption and influence-peddling scam involving a friend.
With DPK lawmakers accusing Mr. Yoon of “crimes of rebellion,” his fall could be even harder.
“We thought that Park Geun-hye was rock-bottom for conservatives,” said Choi Jung-kun, a presidential secretary and vice foreign minister in the prior, liberal Seoul administration. “But their darkest hour is not over yet.”
Three-hour crisis
Late Tuesday evening, Mr. Yoon accused the majority left-wing opposition — which is challenging his budget, seeking impeachment of his appointees and demanding investigations into corruption allegations surrounding his wife — of being North Korean proxies and “anti-state forces.”
Such extreme language is not unusual in South Korean politicking. Nor is a division of power between government and parliament.
What was extraordinary was Mr. Yoon’s solution: to turn the political clock back via martial law.
Following Mr. Yoon’s announcement on live TV late Tuesday evening, a document clarifying martial law’s detail was released. It included bans on political activities and enabled summary arrests.
Citizens, parliamentarians and media ignored it, rallying swiftly at the National Assembly building.
Lawmakers defied police cordons, special force troops and helicopters circling overhead, to enter the chamber. Mr. Lee scaled a fence to access the grounds.
Outside, thousands of furious citizens demonstrated. One called Mr. Yoon “insane.” “The people will bring him down,” another told The Washington Times.
The end result was the parliamentary overturn of Mr. Yoon’s decree by a bipartisan vote of 190 members.
A photo appeared of Mr. Lee shaking hands with Han Dong-hoon, who heads Mr. Yoon’s People Power Party, and who joined the vote against the martial law decree.
Mr. Yoon bowed to the result. Troops withdrew. The crisis had lasted approximately three hours.
Poor planning, mild execution
Some say police and soldiers declined to act with the degree of ruthlessness Mr. Yoon’s gambit demanded.
Protesters scuffled with police, but no casualties were reported. Seoul residents countered special forces troops by grabbing their rifle barrels and hosing them down with fire extinguishers.
In the authoritarian South Korea of 1980, “black beret” commandos had gunned down over 200 pro-democracy demonstrators in the city of Gwangju. In 2024, their restraint was praised by a former leader of the Special Warfare Command.
“They could have kicked, or used rifle butts, but they did not get excited, they were measured,” said Chun In-bum, a retired general. “They acted like good soldiers protecting their people instead of trying to protect an administration.”
Wider planning seemed poor.
“It is quite puzzling why they allowed social media to function, or why there was no curfew – these are just the basics,” said Mr. Chun.
Driving through northern and central Seoul after midnight to the National Assembly, there was not a single policeman or soldier deployed, let alone an armored vehicle or roadblock.
“Heavily armed paratroopers were no match for citizens armed with smartphones,” added Mr. Choi. “It was not well organized among the military leaders.”
Mr. Chun expected top military officers to face punishment for their role in the incident. The harsh martial law decree was signed by Army Chief of Staff General Park An-su.
Politically, it is unclear how many persons within Mr. Yoon’s government knew of his plans. Speculation is that he acted in secret with his hard-line defense minister and high-school classmate, Kim Yong-hyun.
Mr. Yoon’s national security adviser and chief of staff and have tendered resignations.
Prime Minister Han Duk-soo, was at a media event just hours before Mr. Yoon’s broadcast, appearing calm and normal. Speaking after the crisis had passed, Mr. Han demanded Mr. Yoon “directly and thoroughly explain this tragic situation.”
Under South Korea’s constitution, the prime minister leads an interim government if a president is impeached. The president’s fate is decided by the Constitutional Court.
Amid crisis — pride
Mr. Choi said he had felt deep fear watching Mr. Yoon’s initial TV announcement.
“I was very tense and called many people from our administration and checked their personal security,” he said. “We communicated and tried to see what was going on.”
Others were more blase.
“It was late at night so I was bewildered, but not worried,” said Michael Breen, a long-time expatriate who, as a journalist, reported on South Korea’s pro-democracy struggle in the 1980s. “It was clear from the way Yoon spoke that there was no external threat — North Korea was not infiltrating — and that he was expressing frustrations with the opposition; there was nothing more to it.”
There was also high praise for the citizen activism that helped force Mr. Yoon to retreat.
“South Koreans earned democracy on the streets, and that institutional memory, accumulated through history, has been well shared around our people,” said Mr. Choi, now an academic at Seoul’s Yonsei University. “This was probably the shortest martial law in history.”
Messaging students, he wrote that it had been, “a surreal and shocking moment.”
Global media reports questioning the strength of South Korea’s democracy were dismissed.
“I saw some comments about a close U.S. ally being unstable, but fundamentally this is a very, very stable democracy that does not depend on one person,” said Mr. Breen, author of ‘The New Koreans.” “Koreans are fractious, dramatic and prone to deliver the unexpected, but the military in this country will never turn their guns on their people again.”
• Andrew Salmon can be reached at asalmon@washingtontimes.com.