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The decline of prosecutor politics: Yoon's exit and the end of an era

Published: 20 May. 2025, 00:02 Updated: 21 May. 2025, 14:19

Seo Seung-wook

The author is the editor of political, international, foreign and security news at the JoongAng Ilbo.

The resignation of former President Yoon Suk Yeol from the People Power Party marks a symbolic, if not belated, turning point in Korea’s recent experiment with what critics have come to call “prosecutor politics.” Yoon's departure, though seemingly inevitable, came without apology or reflection — a continuation of the political ethos he embodied while in office.

Former President Yoon Suk Yeol and his wife Kim Keon Hee greet supporters as they leave the presidential residence in Hannam-dong, Yongsan District, central Seoul, and head to their private home in Seocho-dong on April 11, 2025. [JOINT PRESS CORPS]

Upon returning to his home in Seocho-dong after his ouster, Yoon reportedly said, “Don’t worry, I came back winning. Whether it’s five years or three, it’s all the same.” The statement, which baffled even his allies, reflects the inner logic of a political figure who viewed leadership through the prism of combat, not governance. The comment “I came back winning” remains a mystery. Was it a delusional assertion of moral victory after exposing what he saw as an abusive opposition? Or perhaps, as some in the progressive camp suggested, a nod to a supposed behind-the-scenes plan to nullify his detention and push Han Duck-soo as a successor?

Whatever the intent, the language is telling. It reveals a worldview where politics is defined by victory and defeat — where indictments, arrests and prosecutions are seen as ends in themselves. This is the legacy of prosecutor politics, a mode of governance that prizes the optics of conquest over deliberation or coalition-building. It is also a costly lesson Korea has paid for in recent years, as voters increasingly recoil from leaders who equate legal authority with political legitimacy.

Former People Power Party (PPP) leader Han Dong-hoon moves away from the podium after announcing his resignation from the party leadership during a press conference held at the National Assembly on Dec. 16, 2024. [YONHAP]

The roots of this political culture run deep. In August last year, Yoon and his wife had dinner with former President Lee Myung-bak and his wife at the official presidential residence in Hannam-dong. It was their first such meeting, attended also by presidential chief of staff Chung Jin-suk and his wife. The occasion, though cordial, turned reflective when Lee reportedly remarked, “It’s going to be difficult for another former prosecutor to become president again.” His comment underscored the growing fatigue with a political class that had become dominated by former prosecutors turned power brokers.

At the time, public discontent was high, with the political arena consumed by a bitter feud between two former prosecutors: Yoon and then-PPP Chairman Han Dong-hoon. Once allies, their falling out had devolved into a public spectacle. The spectacle was one of personal animosity played out through institutional warfare, where mutual respect gave way to brinkmanship and policy paralysis. Analysts believe Yoon's growing reliance on military allies, including Defense Minister Kim Yong-hyun, in the aftermath of this rift culminated in his disastrous attempt to declare martial law.

That former President Lee — usually restrained in his public political commentary — felt compelled to intervene speaks to the depth of concern over how prosecutor-led politics had hollowed out conservative leadership.

Yoon’s departure, however, was not the final act. The failed attempt to install former Prime Minister Han Duck-soo as the PPP’s presidential nominee — what some viewed as a last-minute coup — was also driven by a cadre of former prosecutors. The so-called Ssangkwon (meaning Kwon twins) — Kwon Seong-dong and Kwon Young-se, both former prosecutors and staunch Yoon loyalists — played central roles in drafting or endorsing the failed plan. Many suspect Yoon himself was involved in the scenario, which envisioned first promoting Kim Moon-soo, followed by a swift substitution with Han Duck-soo, in an effort to maximize electability. The logic? Winning at all costs.

This political culture has its contradictions. Former Daegu Mayor Hong Joon-pyo, himself a former prosecutor, also walked away from the party, claiming to be the race’s “greatest victim.” On social media, he launched a scathing attack on Yoon and the Ssangkwon leadership: “One lunatic self-destructed with martial law at midnight, another stole the nomination overnight — how completely mad they all are.” His fury is pointed, but his background as a prosecutor only adds to the irony. The legal profession, once considered a foundation for public trust, had become a closed circuit of vendettas and power plays.

Left, right, center — everywhere in Korean politics, prosecutors seem to be in control or at war. Whether this is best described as factional infighting or simply the tragic endpoint of prosecutor-dominated politics, one thing is clear: the dominance of the prosecutorial class in Korean political life has reached a breaking point.

People Power Party emergency committee chairman Kwon Young-se speaks during a meeting of the party’s emergency leadership committee at the National Assembly on April 14. At left is floor leader Kwon Seong-dong. [YONHAP]

The upcoming election could serve as a much-needed reckoning. The electorate is showing signs of fatigue after three years of political turbulence largely driven by former prosecutors. What began as a call for justice and rule of law has morphed into a contest of egos and authority. The era of the “prosecutor republic,” as some have called it, appears to be drawing to a close.

Yet the question remains: what comes next? If the June 3 election delivers a new leadership unburdened by the reflex to prosecute rather than persuade, it may mark a return to a more inclusive and functional politics. But if the same figures reemerge under new titles and tactics, the cycle could well continue.

As voters head to the polls, they are not just choosing a president. They are choosing whether to turn the page on a turbulent chapter defined by legalistic posturing and personal vendettas. The future of Korean conservatism — and indeed Korean democracy — may depend on their answer.

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