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When law and politics collide: The implications of Lee Jae-myung’s trial

Published: 24 Apr. 2025, 00:03

Jang Deok-jin

The author is a professor of sociology at the Seoul National University.

Years ago, a Turkish friend once told me about an unusual civic event held in Ankara — a short marathon from the National Assembly to the Constitutional Court. Organized by civil society groups, the race symbolized a satirical protest. When asked why the route was chosen, the answer was simple: in Turkey, politicians often skip dialogue and rush to the courts to resolve political conflicts. If that’s the case, the joke went, why not see who can literally run faster to the courthouse?

The story drew laughter, but also a twinge of discomfort. It wasn’t difficult to see Korea in the mirror of this anecdote.

The Supreme Court building in Seocho District, Seoul, is lit up in the early hours of December 4, 2024, after the National Assembly passed a resolution urging President Yoon Suk Yeol to lift the emergency martial law. [NEWS1]

In recent years, few legal sagas have captured as much public attention in Korea as that of Lee Jae-myung, former leader of the Democratic Party and now a top presidential contender. The question of whether his legal troubles will derail his political ambitions has long been debated, not just in public but among legal scholars, lawyers, and lawmakers behind closed doors.

Among many legal professionals I’ve spoken with, the prevailing sentiment has been that while some of the charges against Lee may ultimately stick, it would be difficult for a final verdict to be delivered before the presidential election. The defense strategy would likely rely on delaying proceedings, and the courts, aware of the political sensitivity, might be reluctant to act hastily.

The implication is troubling. A verdict before the election seems unlikely, which means Korea is headed toward a scenario where the eligibility of a leading opposition candidate remains unresolved until just before or even after the vote. If the court strips Lee of his right to run shortly before the election, chaos may ensue. If he wins the presidency but is later found guilty of an offense that nullifies the election, the crisis could escalate even further.

Despite foreseeing this outcome, no one — neither political leaders nor judicial authorities — has proposed a credible contingency plan. As a result, the fate of the nation may fall into the hands of a small group of judges.

At the heart of this dilemma lies a fundamental tension between democratic principles and legal structure. The legislature operates on the basis of majority rule, a cornerstone of representative democracy. In contrast, the judiciary does not function on the principle of numerical superiority. Right and wrong are judged not by popularity but by legal reasoning and precedent.

From a majority-rule perspective, the judiciary is inherently undemocratic. Yet it is this very independence from electoral politics that legitimizes its authority. An independent judiciary ensures the system operates with a measure of balance, especially when the legislative process becomes mired in partisanship.

But Korea now finds itself in a situation where that independence is under threat. Thirty impeachment motions against cabinet members, a president removed from office, and now a court ruling looming over the frontrunner in a snap election — these are decisions with deep national consequences. And they are being entrusted to a handful of judges.

The judicialization of politics — when political disputes are increasingly settled in court — often leads to the politicization of the judiciary. Political parties, knowing that the courts may ultimately decide outcomes they themselves cannot resolve, try to stack the judiciary with sympathetic judges. This explains the fierce controversy over the appointment of Constitutional Court judges. The Democratic Party’s strong push for the nomination of Ma Eun-hyuk and its resistance to acting President Han Duck-soo’s appointments are recent examples.

This feedback loop erodes trust. Why do people accept that unelected judges can make decisions affecting the fate of a nation? Because, ideally, the judiciary’s logic stands apart from that of the legislature. Even in political chaos, the courts are expected to remain impartial and grounded in law. But when political maneuvering taints judicial appointments and rulings, that separation collapses. And public trust in the judiciary erodes. Recent surveys in Korea show a notable decline in confidence in the courts — an alarming signal for any democracy.

Lee Jae-myung, the front-runner in the Democratic Party’s race for the presidency, gives a thumbs-up gesture before a speech at Cheongju Gymnasium in North Chungcheong on Saturday during his party's Chungcheong regional primary. [NEWS1]

Korea is not alone in this predicament. In the United States, President Donald Trump faces multiple legal challenges, including civil trials and criminal investigations, yet remains electorally viable and legally shielded by the American system’s robust presidential immunity. Meanwhile, in France, Marine Le Pen, the far-right frontrunner in the 2027 presidential election, was recently barred from running by a first-instance court ruling. Across democracies, the line between politics and law is becoming increasingly blurred.

There is a small glimmer of institutional correction. Korea’s Supreme Court Chief Justice Cho Hee-dae has referred Lee Jae-myung’s election law case to the full bench, and a new round of hearings begins today. Yet given the complexity and timing, a final verdict before the election is highly improbable.

Still, even if the outcome arrives too late to influence the vote, the process itself can carry meaning. This is a moment for the judiciary to reassert its integrity — not through speed, but through principle. The outcome should not merely influence an election, but offer a dignified reaffirmation of the proper relationship between law and politics in Korea.

Whether it can do so is the real test before us.

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