SEOUL, South Korea | It may read like lunatic conspiracy theorizing. But in South Korea, where security never strays far from the headlines and where superstitious practices are ubiquitous on 21st-century streets, truth is often stranger than fiction.

Case in point: As impeached South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol awaits his political fate after his botched martial law decree earlier this month, police say they’ve found evidence of a cloak-and-dagger frontier plot aimed at generating a real national security crisis. At the same time, prosecutors allege that a shaman may have been deeply involved in policy-making at the highest levels.

Those developments are adding more intrigue to the already high-stakes political drama playing out in Seoul.

It wouldn’t be the first time that North Korea, a legitimate security boogeyman, may have been used to influence domestic politics. South Korean operatives were jailed for plotting a DMZ incident in 1997 for just such a purpose.

Mr. Yoon, meanwhile, has appeared in public with a mystical character written on his palm. He is also widely accused of relocating the presidential residence in 2022 on advice from a shaman. Though Shamanism has deep roots in Korean culture, it suffers from modern prejudices.

Allegations related to border security and spiritual counsel also hang over Mr. Yoon, who, citing anti-state forces and parliamentary obstruction, declared martial law on Dec. 3.

Parliamentarians canceled that declaration within three hours. The president was impeached 11 days later.

His future now rests with the Constitutional Court, which has yet to sit to make its decision. In the meantime, police, prosecutors and investigative journalists are working overtime to learn more about Mr. Yoon’s motivations and decision-making processes.

North Korea crisis as political ploy

Opposition lawmakers claim that plotters sought to generate a security crisis to legitimize Mr. Yoon’s martial law decree. Some evidence has surfaced seeming to back up that contention.

Detained former Gen. Noh Sang-won, a former chief of the shadowy Defense Intelligence Command, was referred to prosecutors on insurrection charges this week. He had a post-military career in a shabby-looking fortune-telling business in the city of Suwon, south of Seoul.

Mr. Noh, who allegedly consulted an elite rural shaman on Mr. Yoon’s future, is believed to have advised troops on martial law targets and tactics during December meetings in a “Lotteria” hamburger franchise (dubbed “Martial Lawterria” by a Taiwanese reporter).

Police discovered a notebook in a Monday raid on Mr. Noh’s residence that contained multiple references to martial law, along with the line, “Induce North Korea’s provocation at the Northern Limit Line,” police said.

The NLL is the peninsula’s disputed coastal frontier. In the 1990s and 2000s, the western NLL saw deadly patrol-boat clashes, the sinking of a South Korean warship and the shelling of a South Korean island.

A historical precedent for Mr. Noh’s alleged plot exists.

Before the 1997 presidential election, South Korean operatives secretly met North Korean officials in Beijing, a matter today known as “Operation Northern Wind.”

Their intent: Bribe Pyongyang to initiate a security crisis. That, they believed, would benefit conservatives in South Korea.

The plot was uncovered and the plotters were jailed. One of them, a former intelligence chief, later attempted suicide. Liberal candidate Kim Dae-jung won the 1997 presidency.

“Monkey business of disgusting politicians!” a retired South Korean colonel said of the incident.

Allegations of mystical policymaking 

If Mr. Noh is found to be in cahoots with Mr. Yoon, he will be the first individual with mystical connections with proven links to the president.

Last week, a judge rejected prosecutors’ demands for an arrest warrant for a shaman, citing insufficient evidence of corruption. The shaman was reportedly associated with Mr. Yoon’s 2022 presidential campaign.

Widespread rumors have long circulated about mystics impacting policy.

During the campaign, Mr. Yoon flashed his palm to cameras, revealing the Chinese character for “king” written on it, sparking concerns about a superstitious bent.

His first major decision was to shift the presidential office and residency from the purpose-built Blue House — named after its blue roofing — to a workmanlike office adjacent to the Defense Ministry.

The Blue House sits behind a 14th-century Seoul palace that boasts superb fengshui, the geomantic art of synching buildings with landscapes.

Nevertheless, some consider the Blue House ill-starred. Mr. Yoon dubbed it “imperial,” and it stands on the site of the colonial-era Japanese governor general’s residence.

Major woes befell multiple previous Korean presidents who occupied it, including exile, assassination, imprisonment and suicide.

In 2022, Mr. Yoon, at a press conference, denied that geomancy was behind the relocation, though an adviser to his own party claimed it was.

Critics liken Mr. Yoon’s wife, Kim Keon-hee, who stands accused of stock manipulation, electoral interference and consulting gurus, to Choi Soon-sil.

Ms. Choi was the corrupt confidante of former conservative President Park Geun-hye. It was widely alleged that Ms. Choi, whose late father founded a religion, had links to Shamanism.

In 2017, Ms. Park was impeached, then joined Ms. Choi in prison.

Opposition leader Lee Jae-myung slammed 2022 rumors surrounding Mr. Yoon, saying, “In a 21st-century modern society … we absolutely cannot allow a shaman to influence decisions.”

Per 2024 research, 52% of Koreans are non-religious, 32% are Christian and 17% Buddhist. Just 1% profess other spiritual practices.

Among those, shamans can command vast sums for predictions, good-luck rituals, exorcisms, etc. Official data does not exist, but it is widely known that clients sometimes give tens of thousands of dollars to shamans.

Cities, towns and Korean cyberscapes are dotted with the businesses of fortune tellers who offer predictions based on time and date of birth, birth names, facial physiology, even Tarot cards.

While Korean politicians often profess Buddhism or Christianity and meet leaders of these religions without controversy, non-mainstream mystical practices face bias.

“Some say they are believers of Christianity or Buddhism, and that is not a problem,” said Joanne Lee, an expert and writer on Korean folklore.

Shamanism and fortune telling “is not well accepted” she continued. Yet, “it is really deep in the culture, and there are many people living on that business.”

Korea’s last royal dynasty, which fell in 1910, suppressed Shamanism in favor of neo-Confucianism. Ms. Lee, who admits to reading newspaper horoscopes, dates current negative sentiments to Japan’s hated 1910-1945 annexation of Korea.

“The Japanese classified existing folklore and traditions as bad, unenlightened, ignorant and poor,” she said. “It was to be eliminated as it was anti-intellectual, so that was the beginning of this.”

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