Now, politics must answer

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Now, politics must answer

Audio report: written by reporters, read by AI




Kang Won-taek


The author is a professor of political science and international relations at Seoul National University.
 
As spring sunlight spilled over city parks and cafe terraces last weekend, a sense of long-delayed normality seemed to return to the country. It had been a tense and uncertain winter, marked by a rare and alarming declaration of martial law in early December, a tragic plane crash at Muan International Airport, a series of devastating wildfires and economic tremors from U.S. President Donald Trump’s reignited trade wars. These events — each destabilizing on their own — collectively cast a shadow over daily life. But last Friday’s ruling by the Constitutional Court, upholding the impeachment of President Yoon Suk Yeol, appears to have brought a kind of pause, a momentary clearing of the skies.
 
Acting Chief Justice of the Constitutional Court Moon Hyung-bae, center, reads the decision to uphold the impeachment of President Yoon Suk Yeol at the Constitutional Court in Jongno District, central Seoul, on April 4. [JOINT PRESS CORPS]

Acting Chief Justice of the Constitutional Court Moon Hyung-bae, center, reads the decision to uphold the impeachment of President Yoon Suk Yeol at the Constitutional Court in Jongno District, central Seoul, on April 4. [JOINT PRESS CORPS]

 
The court’s decision, delivered unanimously, deserves quiet praise. In a time of extraordinary political polarization, the justices offered a judgment that was not only clear and lawful, but also widely accepted by the public. Despite fears of unrest, both supporters and opponents of impeachment respected the outcome. Protests remained peaceful. No violence followed. Korea’s democratic institutions held firm. The political crisis, while deeply unsettling, was resolved not by force or populist fiat, but through the orderly mechanisms of constitutional law.
 
Yet what the ruling accomplished institutionally, it did not — and could not — resolve politically. Yoon is gone, but the structural tensions that led to his downfall remain. Indeed, there is reason to believe that, rather than moving forward, the country has simply returned to the precarious status quo that existed before his presidency veered into the unconstitutional. The Constitutional Court’s intervention has cleared the immediate fog, but it has not set a new road.
 

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At the heart of the matter is not one man, but a political system that has become increasingly dysfunctional. Over the past four months, the country witnessed the breakdown of normal governance. The presidency, unbound by political restraint, issued extralegal orders that forced the hand of the judiciary. The National Assembly, bitterly divided, proved unable to respond in time to prevent confrontation. What should have been the work of politics — negotiation, compromise and accountability — was left instead to judges.
 
This failure of politics is what brought the nation to the brink. And there is little to suggest that current politics is ready to take over again. The rival parties remain locked in a cycle of grievance and retaliation. The coming presidential election, now scheduled for early June, offers the illusion of democratic renewal. But if recent history is any guide, it may only deepen partisan entrenchment.
 
Consider the dynamics. Korea’s presidential system is winner-takes-all. Coalition governments are rare. The incentive is not to compromise but to dominate. That might be tenable in a time of consensus, but in an era marked by razor-thin electoral margins and intense ideological division, it all but guarantees politics of obstruction. The next election could again be decided by a sliver of votes — and yet, under current rules, the winner will claim the whole of executive power. The vanquished will have every reason to resist and undermine. The cycle will repeat.
 
A view of the National Assembly in Seoul on April 2. [YONHAP]

A view of the National Assembly in Seoul on April 2. [YONHAP]

 
In this light, last week’s impeachment ruling is not merely a resolution; it is also a warning. Korea has now impeached two presidents in less than a decade. This is not a sign of healthy constitutional balance. The impeachment mechanism was designed for the most exceptional circumstances. But in Korea, it has begun to feel almost routine — a pressure valve for a political system increasingly incapable of regulating itself through more ordinary means.
 
That erosion of institutional stability should alarm all who care about the health of Korean democracy. A system in which impeachment becomes a foreseeable outcome of political conflict is one where democratic norms are fraying. The cost of each crisis grows steeper — not only in political capital and public trust but in economic and diplomatic fallout. Should the country face a similar crisis again — and there is little to suggest it won’t — the consequences could be far more severe.
 
The path forward is not merely the election of a new president, but a restructuring of the system itself. The call for constitutional reform, long tabled, can no longer be deferred. National Assembly Speaker Woo Won-shik has proposed forming a special committee to pursue constitutional revision. That effort should be taken seriously. It must begin by confronting the core problem: the concentration of power in a single executive, elected in a way that incentivizes maximalist, zero-sum politics.
 
Reform must also extend to the electoral system. A more proportional and pluralistic model — one that allows for coalition governments and encourages consensus-building — is not only possible but necessary. Without it, the vicious cycle of conflict and crisis will persist.
 
There is, to be sure, reason for cautious hope. In the face of grave uncertainty, the Korean public remained committed to democracy. Military leaders showed restraint, and institutions, though strained, did not break. That resilience should not be taken for granted. But resilience alone is no substitute for reform.
 
The court has done its part. The burden now shifts to the political class. The moment demands more than victory speeches and campaign slogans. It requires the hard, patient work of rebuilding a system that has proven itself vulnerable. If this moment is squandered, another crisis will come — and next time, we may not be so fortunate.
 
Now, at last, politics must answer.


Translated from the JoongAng Ilbo using generative AI and edited by Korea JoongAng Daily staff.
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