Justitia does not look to the square
Published: 02 Feb. 2026, 00:02
Audio report: written by reporters, read by AI
Lee Hyun-sang
The author is a columnist at the JoongAng Ilbo.
The reaction from the ruling camp was explosive after the first-instance court sentenced former first lady Kim Keon Hee to one year and eight months in prison — a punishment widely described as “light,” given that the sentence amounted to just one-ninth of the 15-year term sought by prosecutors. Some criticized the ruling as falling short of public expectations of justice, while others went further, branding it “lenient” and calling for judicial reform.
Former first lady Kim Keon Hee, standing on the right, receives her first-instance verdict on charges of violating the capital markets act, the Political Funds Act and the Act on the Aggravated Punishment of Specific Crimes at the Seoul Central District Court in Seocho District on the afternoon of Jan. 28. [SEOUL CENTRAL DISTRICT COURT VIDEO CAPTURE]
That reaction is difficult to accept at face value. From a judge’s perspective, what incentive would there be to show leniency to the spouse of a former administration leader whose political standing has collapsed so far that prosecutors sought the harshest penalties possible? For the judiciary, imposing a heavy sentence would arguably have been the easier choice, as it would have shielded the court from public outrage and political attacks. The ruling itself reveals how the bench struggled between adherence to legal reasoning and evidence and the pressure to reflect social demands.
Although the sentence was lighter than many expected, the court sharply rebuked the defendant by invoking the phrase “frugal but not shabby, and elegant but not extravagant.” It was a pointed moral censure. While legal constraints prevented a heavier punishment, moral responsibility would not be glossed over. Judges ultimately cannot choose applause from the public over the letter of the law and established precedent. The verdict reflects a collision between the special prosecutor’s expansive indictment framework and the principle of judicial proportionality. It serves as a reminder of the severity of the principle of legality: However detestable an alleged offense may appear, punishment must rest solely on grounds explicitly provided by law.
This brings responsibility back to the special prosecutor. Insisting until the end that Kim should be charged as co-principal in the alleged stock manipulation case was close to a strategic blunder. Establishing joint principal liability requires strict proof of close coordination and a clear division of roles. In the earlier Deutsche Motors case, other alleged financiers were acquitted as co-principals and only convicted after charges were amended to include aiding and abetting. But the special prosecutor, driven by political considerations, clung to the most difficult charge to prove. Courts cannot convict a defendant on an aiding charge that prosecutors themselves did not bring. The prosecution’s overreach effectively foreclosed the path to a heavier sentence.
The ruling camp’s response is also internally contradictory. President Lee Jae Myung has long defended himself against his own legal risks by emphasizing evidentiary standards and criticizing what he described as politically motivated overreach by prosecutors. He and his allies have repeatedly invoked the presumption of innocence and warned against branding defendants guilty on unproven allegations. Yet in Kim’s case, legal reasoning is cast aside in favor of emotional outrage directed at the judiciary.
The statue of Justitia, the Roman goddess of justice, above the entrance to the Supreme Court in Seocho District, southern Seoul, differs from the familiar Western image. Instead of a blindfold, she holds a book and gazes forward with her eyes wide open. The message is often read as a call to face reality. But seeing reality does not mean aligning the law with the shouts from the public square. Justice gains authority only when its gaze remains fixed on statutory language and the substance of evidence, unmoved by public opinion.
A statue of Justitia, the Roman goddess of justice, at the Supreme Court in Seocho District, Seoul [KIM SEONG-RYONG]
It is hard to argue that the first-instance court’s verdict fully satisfies public sentiment, and it is equally true that the ruling may not be the final word. Appellate review remains. Still, the decision underscored that trials are neither staged events nor outlets for emotional catharsis. After announcing its appeal, the special prosecutor issued a lengthy statement publicly criticizing the court. Rather than engaging in a war of words, the prosecution would do better to reflect on how to overcome the barriers imposed by evidentiary standards.
Seocho District’s Justitia stands without a blindfold, but her eyes are not open so that she can count the number of flags in the square. They are meant to scrutinize the truth as indicated by evidence and the precise wording of the law. The moment the goddess of justice turns toward the square, the rule of law loses its way.
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.





with the Korea JoongAng Daily
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