Public sentiment rejects Yoon — and Jang, Han and Lee as well

Home > Opinion > Columns

Public sentiment rejects Yoon — and Jang, Han and Lee as well

Published: 27 Jan. 2026, 00:02

Audio report: written by reporters, read by AI

Seo Seung-wook

The author is the chief editor of digital content at the JoongAng Ilbo.

During a recent business trip to Tokyo, the political atmosphere felt unusually charged ahead of Japan’s House of Representatives election set for Feb. 8. The contest was triggered by Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s decision to dissolve the lower house, a gamble intended to shore up the Liberal Democratic Party’s (LDP) fragile grip on power by seeking a renewed mandate.

Japan's new opposition party, Centrist Reform Alliance co-leaders Tetsuo Saito, right, speaks during the campaign for the general election in Tokyo on Jan. 23. [UPI/YONHAP]

The opposition’s counterstroke to the sudden dissolution has been the launch of an election-focused new party. The Constitutional Democratic Party, the largest opposition force, joined with Komeito, which ended its 26-year coalition with the LDP, to form the Centrist Reform Alliance, known simply as the Centrists. That the party chose “centrist” both as its banner and its core pledge is striking. Its goal is to push the LDP out of what it frames as hard-line or right-wing conservatism. Takaichi’s long-run wager has been met by a new party created by two centrist conservative forces, producing an intriguing contest in the political middle. In a political system crowded with hereditary elites, the clash between leaders marketed as ordinary also draws attention. Takaichi, the daughter of an office worker and a police officer, and Yoshihiko Noda, leader of the Constitutional Democratic Party and son of a Self-Defense Forces officer, are alumni of the Matsushita Institute of Government and Management, often described as a training ground for politicians of modest backgrounds.

While Japan’s conservative camp appears dynamic, Korea’s conservatives face a period of darkness and dread. Legal judgments are steadily emerging over former President Yoon Suk Yeol’s delusional declaration of martial law. His irresponsibility, finger-pointing and brazen demeanor in court, after pushing the entire conservative bloc toward the brink, will weigh heavily on its future for years.

By contrast, President Lee Jae Myung’s eastward advance looks formidable, a term long used in Korea to describe efforts by a traditionally liberal camp rooted in the southwestern Gwangju-Jeolla regions to break into the conservative strongholds of the southeastern Gyeongsang region. During the presidential campaign, he declared that the Democratic Party was a centrist conservative party. Now, with a posture of pragmatic governance beyond ideology, faction or perpetual confrontation, he appears poised to absorb the space left by a historically weak opposition. If Kim Dae-jung’s eastward strategy once focused on recruiting individuals, Lee’s version is an ideological and strategic expansion anchored in pragmatism. Korea’s conservatives risk being pushed not only out of the center but even out of their own moderate conservative ground, confined to the margins of the far right.

At the heart of this existential crisis stand three figures: Jang Dong-hyeok, Han Dong-hoon and Lee Jun-seok. Through the June local elections and perhaps well beyond, conservatives may have little choice but to entrust their fate to them. As in Japan, where politics is being reshaped by personalities, the present and future of Korea’s enfeebled conservative camp rest squarely on their shoulders.

Former President Park Geun-hye greets People Power Party leader Jang Dong-hyeok during a visit to a hunger strike site at the National Assembly’s Rotunda Hall on Jan. 22. Jang was on the eighth day of a hunger strike calling for the acceptance of dual special counsel probes into the Unification Church and alleged nomination donations. [JOINT PRESS CORPS]

Yet their conduct has been deeply disappointing. Ambition is visible, but strategy and sacrifice are not. Jang, leader of the People Power Party, launched a hunger strike in a burst of overreach during the push to expel former leader Han. Despite claims of conservative mobilization, the impact on party approval ratings was minimal. His decision to end the strike immediately after former President Park Geun-hye called for restraint, while hesitating to break decisively with Yoon, was politically telling. Caught between two impeached former presidents, it is unclear whether his stalled political orientation can attract the centrist voters who hold the key to Korean politics.

Han fares little better. His half-hearted apology over an internal party message board controversy only fueled doubts about sincerity, exposing a political style that seeks victory without conceding even an inch. Lee Jun-seok, leader of the Reform Party, has yet to find a role that would allow him to shed the unflattering label of an “eternal rising star."

All three share a common trait: They inspire more opposition than support. Their politics often hinge on narrow bases and devoted fan groups, tinged with narcissism. The grim reality of conservative approval ratings reflects a public mood that says, “We detest Yoon Suk Yeol, but we also reject Jang, Han and Lee Jun-seok.” What is needed is not a petty contest among themselves, but sacrifice and resolve to revive conservatism. The decisive question is who can recreate the spirit of the “tent headquarters” moment that rescued conservatives from collapse 22 years ago.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.