South Korea’s news cycle is unfolding with such speed that media outlets struggle to keep pace. President Yoon Suk Yeol’s unexpected attempt to declare martial law last Tuesday night was so brief it did not appear on the front page. By the time he deployed troops, newspapers had already gone to print. The following day’s editions reported that the attempted power seizure had already been thwarted. Within the span of a week, the president’s stance has shifted from being remorseful and apologetic, in hopes of avoiding impeachment, to openly defiant, vowing to continue his struggle as the scrutiny around him intensified. Barred from leaving the country while under investigation for treason—a crime punishable by death—he is scheduled for a second impeachment vote this weekend, as support from his political party gradually erodes. Simultaneously, the vocal discontent from thousands of nightly street protestors is growing louder. For a brief period this week, it appeared he had reached an agreement with his party to step down early, in exchange for them not removing him from office in last Saturday’s vote. However, as the week progressed, there was no indication of the president or the specifics of such a plan, and it became progressively evident that Yoon had no intention of resigning. On Thursday, he presented himself as unyielding. “I will fight until the end,” he proclaimed, defending his decision to take control of the country. His address was disjointed and contained unsubstantiated conspiracy theories, including a vague insinuation that North Korea might have manipulated previous elections, in which he failed to secure parliamentary control. He referred to the parliament as a “monster”; the opposition party as “dangerous,” and asserted that by declaring martial law, he aimed to protect the populace and safeguard democracy. Yoon spent much of this week out of public sight, while police attempted to search his offices to gather evidence. To try and alleviate public anger, his party announced that he would not be permitted to make future decisions—even though legal experts agreed that no constitutional provision allowed for this. This situation has left everyone with the same, urgent question: who is governing the country? This is particularly pressing as senior commanders of Yoon’s army have stated they would disregard his orders if he attempted to impose martial law again. An unsettling power vacuum now exists in a nation that constantly faces the threat of attack from North Korea. “There is no legal basis for this arrangement. We are in a dangerous and chaotic situation,” stated Lim Ji-bong, a law professor at Sogang University. It was clear to all external observers that this destabilizing and unusual situation could not be allowed to persist much longer. Yet, it took the president’s party, the People Power Party (PPP), some time to acknowledge that Yoon’s impeachment was unavoidable. Initially, his party members protected him, eager to safeguard their own political careers and driven by their animosity towards South Korea’s opposition leader, Lee Jae-myung, whom they fear will become president if Yoon is removed. But on Thursday, after days of delay, the PPP leader, Han Dong-hoon, publicly urged all Members of Parliament to impeach him. “The president must be suspended from office immediately,” he declared. For the impeachment to pass, two-thirds of parliament must vote in favor, meaning eight ruling party MPs must join the opposition. A handful have so far declared their intention to do so. Kim Sang-wook was one of the first to change his mind. “The president is no longer qualified to lead the country, he is totally unfit,” he told the BBC from his office at the National Assembly. However, Kim noted that not all MPs would follow his example; a core group intends to remain loyal to Yoon. In his very conservative constituency, Kim reported receiving death threats for switching sides. “My party and supporters have called me a traitor,” he stated, characterizing South Korean politics as “intensely tribal.” The vast majority of public anger, however, has been directed at the Members of Parliament who have shielded Yoon up to this point. At a protest on Wednesday night, the chants had evolved from merely “impeach Yoon” to “impeach Yoon, dissolve the party.” “I hate them both so much right now, but I think I hate the MPs even more than the president,” commented 31-year-old graduate student Chang Yo-hoon, who had joined tens of thousands of others, in freezing temperatures, to express his disillusionment. Throughout the week, lawmakers have been inundated with thousands of abusive messages and phone calls from the public, a situation one member of parliament described to me as “phone terrorism,” while some have even been sent funeral flowers. Even if a sufficient number of MPs vote to impeach Yoon this weekend, his party, now divided and widely unpopular, faces political irrelevance. “We don’t even know who we are or what we stand for anymore,” one exasperated party official confided. The defecting lawmaker Kim Sang-wook believes it will take time to regain voters’ trust. “We will not disappear, but we need to rebuild ourselves from scratch,” he stated. “There is a saying that South Korea’s economy and culture are first class, but its politics are third class. Now is the chance to reflect on that.” Yoon has dealt a severe blow to South Korea’s reputation as a well-established, albeit young, democracy. There was pride when Members of Parliament swiftly overturned the president’s martial law decision, affirming that the country’s democratic institutions were functioning after all. But the fragility of the system was exposed again, as the party maneuvered to keep him in office, with the opposition branding this a “second coup.” But Professor Yun Jeong-in, a research professor at Korea University’s Legal Research Institute, maintained that the country was dealing with “an aberration, not a systemic failure of democracy,” pointing to the mass protests every night. “People are not panicking; they are fighting back. They see democracy as something that is rightfully theirs,” she commented. Damage has also been inflicted upon South Korea’s international relationships, and ironically, upon many of Yoon’s own aspirations. He had a vision that South Korea would become a “global pivotal state,” playing a more significant role on the world stage. He even hoped to earn Seoul an invitation to join the elite group of G7 countries. A Western diplomat conveyed to me that they were hoping for a “swift resolution” to the crisis. “We need South Korea to be a stable partner. Impeachment would be a step in the right direction.” If Yoon is suspended from office on Saturday, he will not depart without resistance. A prosecutor by trade, who possesses extensive legal knowledge, he has decided he would rather be impeached and challenge the decision when it goes to court, than exit quietly. And the shockwaves he has set off are expected to ripple through the country for years, perhaps decades, to come. Additional reporting by Jake Kwon and Hosu Lee. Copyright 2024 BBC. All rights reserved. The BBC bears no responsibility for the material found on external websites. Information regarding our external linking policy is available.

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