What Lee Hye-hoon’s withdrawal leaves behind

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What Lee Hye-hoon’s withdrawal leaves behind

Published: 27 Jan. 2026, 00:01

Audio report: written by reporters, read by AI

Koh Hyun-kohn

The author is the chief editorial writer at the JoongAng Ilbo.

The withdrawal of Lee Hye-hoon as the nominee for minister of budget invites uncomfortable reflection. At the most basic level, it raises questions about the dignity and moral standards expected of society’s leadership. Lee may be intelligent and well connected, but judging by the allegations that surfaced, she did not live uprightly. There is little evidence of the ethical awareness or sense of responsibility expected of a public figure. It is difficult to understand how someone could serve three terms as a lawmaker, move fluidly between Seoul’s Dongdaemun and Jung-Seongdong constituencies and North Chungcheong and pursue power without hesitation.

Lee Hye-hoon, the minister of budget nominee, bows and greets lawmakers after taking an oath during a confirmation hearing of the National Assembly’s Strategy and Finance Committee at the National Assembly in Yeouido, western Seoul, on Jan. 23. [NEWS1]

That such a figure was not filtered out earlier points to a serious gap in Korea’s vetting system. How should the public interpret the decision to offer her a cabinet post despite the obvious risk of her liabilities being exposed during confirmation hearings? Was it political nerve honed over years of experience, or was it arrogance rooted in the belief that these issues did not matter?

Lee is hardly alone. Recent controversies involving lawmakers Kweon Seong-dong, Kim Byung-kee, Kang Sun-woo and Chun Jae-soo echo the pattern, as do scandals from past administrations. There are likely many members of the elite who still wield power simply because they managed to conceal their wrongdoing. When allegations poured out years ago against Cho Kuk, the leader of the Rebuilding Korea Party, progressives defended him by saying that anyone would have something turn up if scrutinized closely enough. In shielding one of their own, they dramatically lowered the legal and moral standards society should uphold, even as they claimed the mantle of fairness and justice.

Corruption has spread across entrenched interests, regardless of ideology. Bribery, real estate speculation, tax evasion, admissions fraud involving children, plagiarism and abuse of power have become all too familiar. But those implicated show little remorse. Instead, they raise their voices to protect their privilege and cling to hope that they can weather the storm; even if they fall, they quietly re-emerge once memories of their actions fade. The people who repeatedly pay the price are citizens who take at face value politicians’ hollow pledges to “serve only the public.”

The People Power Party branded Lee a traitor and escalated its attacks, but that amounts to spitting in its own face. Until recently, she chaired the party’s district committee in Seoul’s Jung-Seongdong area. She received the party’s nomination five times, including three runs in the coveted Seocho A District. It is fair to ask whether conservatives should be throwing stones at someone they helped bring to that position.

More troubling is the government’s vetting capacity. Lee’s reputation, by many accounts, was no great secret in political circles. Journalists had little difficulty uncovering a string of allegations. President Lee Jae Myung rhetorically asked how the government could know whether she had mistreated aides. But was the government truly unaware?

The poorly handled appointment has dulled the original intent of inclusive governance, which was meant to transcend factions and draw broadly from the talent pool. In practice, few administrations have genuinely embraced this ideal. The often cited Kim Dae-jung–Kim Jong-pil alliance was less an exercise in inclusion than a division of spoils within a joint government, and even that unraveled midterm. Subsequent presidents were similarly reluctant. Moon Jae-in pledged at his inauguration to recruit capable figures regardless of political loyalty but governed narrowly. Yoon Suk Yeol’s preference for prosecutors and alumni of specific schools hardly merits discussion.

The silhouette of Lee Hye-hoon, the minister of budget nominee, is seen in this photo as she answers questions from lawmakers during a confirmation hearing of the National Assembly’s Strategy and Finance Committee on Jan. 23. [JOINT PRESS CORPS]

Eight months into the Lee Jae Myung administration, nine presidential contemporaries from the judicial examination or training institute have been appointed to head major public bodies. Figures such as Lee Chan-jin at the Financial Supervisory Service and Cho Won-cheol at the Ministry of Government Legislation previously served as the president’s criminal defense lawyers. How is this fundamentally different from former President Yoon’s placement of a junior prosecutor in a post demanding high expertise? Token gestures toward inclusion cannot offset a pattern of questionable appointments. That is why the Lee Hye-hoon nomination felt more like a publicity event than a sincere attempt at balance, leading conspiracy theories to flourish.

The government appears aggrieved by the backlash. A senior presidential official complained that conservatives criticized the administration for not appointing figures from the right, only to resurrect decade-old issues once it did. But inclusion cannot mean asking the public to overlook serious doubts. For citizens struggling to make ends meet, being confronted with tawdry allegations surrounding an out-of-touch nominee is simply exhausting. The government should begin with an apology. If the public cannot be persuaded, inclusive appointments have failed.

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.