The Lee Jae-myung era of uncertainty
Park Jung-won
Lee Jae-myung is the new president of the Republic of Korea. The administration has changed hands, but the nature of that change was far from celebratory — it was a choice made in resignation. The Democratic Party of Korea (DPK) has returned to power, and formally speaking, this was a legitimate transfer of power through the will of the people. But beneath the surface lies a far more troubling truth: this election reads more like a collective diagnosis of national crisis than a moment of democratic triumph. There were no real winners.
The sequence of events — former President Yoon Suk Yeol’s controversial martial law declaration, his impeachment by the National Assembly and removal by the Constitutional Court, a snap election and, finally, the victory of a candidate facing multiple criminal trials — has dealt a serious blow to the public’s faith in Korea’s democratic system. The machinery of the electoral process may have functioned, but its substance and context raise serious doubts about its integrity.
Lee’s victory was not fueled by public hope or a shared national vision. Rather, it was a product of accumulated frustration and anger toward the former Yoon government, compounded by the division and incompetence of the conservative People Power Party (PPP). Voters did not choose hope — they made a choice out of cynicism, exhaustion and resignation. In this sense, the election outcome reflects a politics of avoidance rather than aspiration.
South Korean society has long been gripped by a pathological logic that no longer distinguishes right from wrong, but only “us” from “them.” For years, Lee has faced public scrutiny over ethical controversies, and many of his trials are still ongoing. Yet his core supporters have either ignored these legal and moral concerns or twisted them into justifications. For them, what mattered was not truth but allegiance, not justice but loyalty to one’s own side.
The PPP played a pivotal role in bringing about this outcome. They sounded the alarm more loudly than anyone of the risks of Lee coming to power and the potential erosion of democratic norms, but failed to take meaningful action to prevent his rise. The party’s effort to form a joint candidacy with Han Duck-soo, centered on constitutional reform, descended into chaos. Its presidential candidate, Kim Moon-soo, had publicly pushed for unification with Han but reversed his position entirely after winning the nomination. They spoke of the need to stop Lee’s presidency, yet offered no bold concessions or personal sacrifices to achieve it. Instead, they transformed the unification process into a power struggle, prioritizing internal factionalism over national interest. In the end, they squandered a critical opportunity — a betrayal not only of their conservative ideals but also of duty to the country.
Lee now stands at the peak of near-absolute power — not only as head of the executive but as the de facto leader of the legislative majority. On paper, the separation of powers remains. In practice, however, the concentration of authority is accelerating, with a growing risk of political interference in the judiciary. Under the guise of judicial reform, genuine judicial independence may be compromised. The new government must remember that absolute power, once it begins to overreach, will inevitably trigger a powerful public backlash — and it may collapse faster than it rose.
Moreover, the domestic and international challenges awaiting the Lee administration are daunting. One of the most urgent foreign policy issues will be the potential drawdown of U.S. forces stationed in South Korea. Now well into the fifth month of U.S. President Donald Trump’s second term, the leaders of Korea and the United States have yet to hold a formal face-to-face summit. But they will soon have to confront sensitive issues: troop reductions, shifts in military roles and defense cost-sharing.
The Lee administration must clearly communicate that while it respects America’s strategic flexibility, it opposes using troop reductions as a bargaining chip with North Korea. South Korea must recognize that America — especially in its efforts to counter China — sees it as a key naval and defense partner. This moment of tension can become an opportunity if Seoul upgrades the alliance from one of passive dependency to one of strategic cooperation in areas such as nuclear deterrence, naval power and defense industries. Moreover, South Korea cannot continue to pursue the outdated strategy of relying on the U.S. for security and on China for economic growth. If it does, the Korea-U.S. alliance may suffer irreversible damage.
Domestically, the economic outlook is equally bleak. The country faces a convergence of crises: a volatile housing market, youth unemployment, an aging population, widening fiscal deficits and long-term growth stagnation. Yet the new administration appears fixated on expanding fiscal spending and distributing cash handouts. If immediate popularity continues to take precedence over structural reform, the Korean economy could face systemic collapse — and the burden passed on to future generations will grow exponentially. Instead of chasing growth through unrealistic projections, the new administration should focus on practical policies that offer real relief to ordinary citizens.
Korea is now entering a period of significant uncertainty. Power has changed, but hope has not taken root. Public distrust is deeper than ever. Lee Jae-myung may now possess immense power, but with that power comes responsibility. No democratic authority lasts long without legitimacy, and that legitimacy must be grounded in morality, public interest and effective governance. Now more than ever, Korean society needs the vigilance of its people, the scrutiny of a free press and the sober voices of its intellectuals.
History is neither a mathematical formula nor a romantic epic. It does not follow a straight line, but rather loops, regresses and repeats. But within each crisis, it also creates space for dialectical progress. How we respond to this painful moment, and how we remember it afterwards, will determine the future of Korea. If we are to prevent this period from becoming a chapter of pure regression, then the true beginning starts now.
Park Jung-won (park_jungwon@hotmail.com), Ph.D. in law from the London School of Economics (LSE), is a professor of international law at Dankook University.