Youngwon Cho is a governing board member of the Association of Korean Political Studies, a fellow of the Brian Mulroney Institute of Government, and an associate professor in the Department of Political Science at St. Francis Xavier University.
The shocking declaration of martial law by South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol on Dec. 3 raises many questions about the country’s democracy and its future. What Mr. Yoon did and why are straightforward to answer: he mobilized the military to depose the National Assembly, South Korea’s legislature, and usurp all powers for himself. Defining Mr. Yoon’s actions in legal and political terms is also straightforward: his declaration was unequivocally unconstitutional in process, illegal in implementation, and anti-democratic in aim, constituting a self-coup attempt by any legal or scholarly interpretation. Why the attempt failed, and what needs to be done urgently to defend democracy in South Korea, require lengthier answers.
Mr. Yoon’s self-coup failed for several reasons. There were fatal strategic and tactical errors. Launched on a weekday evening with the National Assembly only a few days away from folding its session, the timing made no sense, suggesting strongly that although the plan had been developed much earlier, the actual decision was made impulsively. Mr. Yoon was also unable to deploy troops and co-ordinate their movements effectively owing to the inherent constraints of any coup conspiracy: the need for secrecy meant only a handful of the army brass were involved, engulfing the rest of the military in utter confusion. The special forces who descended on the National Assembly arrived much later than planned, long after the parliamentarians had barricaded themselves in the building.
Setting aside these and other similar errors of incompetence, by far the most important factor behind Mr. Yoon’s failure was his gross underestimation of the strength of democracy in his country. The fact that Mr. Yoon thought, incredulously, that he could get away with his self-coup attempt in the South Korea of 2024, one of the most vibrant democracies in the world, was his biggest undoing. For any Korean younger than 50, what happened on Tuesday night was the stuff of history textbooks, movies and novels. For anyone older than 50, it was a traumatic reminder of the brutal inhumanity they suffered under South Korea’s last martial law, when nearly 200 civilians were killed and thousands wounded. Despite their contentious political differences, for the vast majority of South Koreans, what was unfolding before their eyes was a brazen, intolerable attempt to turn back the clock and plunge their country into the abyss of its nightmarish past.
This is why we saw one of the most elite and highly trained special forces in the world moving so slowly and sluggishly; except for the few generals involved, the chain of command all the way down to the foot soldiers chose democracy over Mr. Yoon’s illegitimate order. This also explains why we saw so many ordinary Koreans, young and old alike, flocking to the National Assembly and building a human shield, and why both the soldiers and the citizens chose, at every decision point they had in that fateful night, to de-escalate what could otherwise have turned into a violent confrontation with disastrous consequences. And this is, ultimately, why Mr. Yoon’s self-coup failed – the shared commitment to democracy was far stronger than Mr. Yoon’s delusionary, atavistic pining for autocracy.
If the failure of Mr. Yoon’s self-coup demonstrates the resilience of South Korea’s democracy, the attempt itself shows its vulnerability. Democracy in South Korea, as elsewhere, is not to be taken for granted, and can only survive and thrive with the vigilance of the people. The people have done their job, once again standing up to the forces of authoritarianism. It is now time for the political class to do theirs. In this light, the reckless decision by Mr. Yoon’s ruling party to boycott the impeachment vote is as grave a threat to South Korea’s democracy as his self-putsch attempt. The party’s alternative proposal, whereby Mr. Yoon would supposedly surrender his presidential powers to the prime minister and the leader of his party, neither of whom is elected, is as unconstitutional and illegal as his declaration of martial law. Without Mr. Yoon’s immediate removal from office and full prosecution, South Korea remains vulnerable and its future uncertain.
Ottawa’s response to the ongoing crisis has been deafeningly silent. This is both odd and embarrassing for Canada, given its propensity to extoll on the virtues of democracy, to say nothing of the fact that its Comprehensive Strategic Partnership with South Korea, established in 2022 to pursue much closer bilateral security and defence co-operation, is underpinned by the two countries’ shared commitment to democracy. Despite its demonstrated resilience, democracy in South Korea is still facing its greatest threat in a generation. It is long past time for Ottawa to break out of silence and make its stance clear.