For Yoon Suk Yeol, last week’s short-lived martial law declaration wasn’t just a catastrophic miscalculation – it was the culmination of a presidency that had been troubled from the start.
When he narrowly won the election in March 2022, Yoon was already a divisive figure. The former prosecutor turned politician positioned himself as an arch-conservative, winning support particularly from young male voters by promising to abolish the ministry for gender equality, claiming South Korean women did not face systemic discrimination.
But his presidency was quickly beset by scandal, with his approval ratings hovering at about 35% for the past two years. His wife, Kim Keon-hee, proved to be his greatest political liability, facing allegations of accepting illegal gifts including a 3m won (£1,655) Dior bag from a pastor, and accusations of stock manipulation.
Perhaps most damaging was his administration’s handling of the Itaewon crowd crush that killed 159 people in October 2022. Families of victims accused authorities of trying to shift blame by suggesting drug use among victims, while stonewalling calls for an independent inquiry.
There were early warning signs of authoritarian tendencies. Despite repeatedly championing “freedom” in his speeches (39 times in his last Liberation Day speech), Yoon’s administration launched aggressive attacks on press freedom, raiding media offices and journalists’ homes over unfavourable coverage, and launching a torrent of defamation suits.
His government issued an official warning over a political cartoon, one drawn by a high school student depicting him as a runaway train, and he grew increasingly confrontational with trade unions, all suggesting that what had started as inexperience in politics was beginning to look more like systematic democratic backsliding.
The recent protests that followed his martial law declaration were notable for their youthful character. Young South Koreans, particularly women, turned out in force, wielding K-pop light sticks that have become an unlikely symbol of resistance. Many are part of a generation shaped by national traumas such as the Sewol ferry disaster and the Itaewon crush, disillusioned and having lost all hope in a state run by older men.
Special forces troops breaking windows to enter parliament provided dramatic scenes that galvanised public outrage.
For the older generation who lived through military dictatorship, the nightmares of the past were unmistakable, and within moments, they were at the national assembly protesting against the move.
The ruling People Power party offered him a dignified exit when the first impeachment vote failed last weekend owing to their boycott. But rather than take the opportunity to resign, Yoon doubled down, defending martial law as a legitimate “act of governance” in a defiant address.
This intransigence proved fatal. With his approval rating at just 11%, even conservative media turned against him. It was time for him to go. When parliament voted again on Saturday, 12 members of his own party joined the opposition, delivering the two-thirds majority needed for impeachment.
While opposition figures have their own controversies, including Democratic party leader, Lee Jae-myung, who is facing ongoing legal troubles, it was Yoon’s own actions that sealed his fate.
His martial law gambit finally gave the opposition the smoking gun they had long sought for impeachment.
For a former prosecutor who helped bring down ex-president Park Geun-hye through impeachment in 2017, it is a remarkable reversal of fortune.
Yoon now faces the same fate as the leader he once investigated, undone by his own heavy-handed and undemocratic response to political opposition.
