Impressions of martial law, 1 year later

Korea is one year removed from disgraced former President Yoon Suk Yeol’s foolish, disastrous, shameful, unconstitutional declaration of martial law. This shocking act— possibly in service of an attempted self-coup — precipitated six months of crisis in Korea’s domestic politics and international relations.

Indeed, the aftermath is not over. Trials and investigations are ongoing. The most visible and significant is Yoon’s post-impeachment trial for insurrection, but his Prime Minister Han Duck-soo and numerous former and current high-ranking military officers, ministers, senior officials and politicians are also either on trial or under indictment for various alleged crimes connected to the Dec. 3, 2024 martial law declaration.

Korean political polarization has worsened, with left-right perceptions of the martial law declaration a major contributing factor. The People Power Party has never shown true remorse. Only half of its National Assembly deputies are willing to apologize for martial law as a part of the national conversation marking one year since Yoon’s proclamation. For its part, the Lee Jae Myung government is investigating government bureaucracies for their involvement, and in the process risks excessive intrusion and a witch hunt that may also hint at lack of respect for democratic norms. The military is undergoing reform to reduce the chance that it could be instrumentalized for martial law in the future, but the efficacy of this effort remains to be seen.

Thus, despite the superficial appearance of a return to normalcy following the June presidential election, Korea cannot really move on. The martial law stain remains — as it should. Whatever else it was, Dec. 3 was momentous — the most momentous event in my 16 years on the Korea Peninsula, in fact.

I have lived through four North Korean nuclear tests, countless Pyongyang missile launches, the Yeonpyeong Island shelling, the ROKS Cheonan torpedoing, G20 and Nuclear Security Summits, the death of Kim Jong-il and rise to power of Kim Jong-un, “Gangnam Style,” the emergence of BTS and BLACKPINK, the impeachment of Park Geun-hye, U.S. President Donald Trump’s “fire and fury,” the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics, North-South détente, three Trump-Kim summits, COVID-19, the recrudescence of South Korea’s nuclearization debate and the tighter U.S.-South Korea alliance that followed, Trump 2.0’s tariff and investment war, and the 2025 Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit circus. None of those things marked me as much the night of Dec. 3.

At first there was shocked disbelief: What the hell? This can’t be real. Then came fear, as I heard military helicopters overhead: Would there be mass violence and bloodshed? Would foreigners be targeted? Should I wake my sleeping family and drive them outside Seoul, or even prepare to flee the country?

That was followed by other worries: What will happen to the economy? Should I try to move investments overnight before the won crashes? Then, confusion reigned: Chaos at the National Assembly, tentative statements of retraction of the declaration, rumors that it would be reimposed. Trying to get any information I could, I made urgent telephone calls to anyone I knew in government. International media rang incessantly to get my reaction, as though I knew anything. Through it all, my family slept.

Finally, with the martial law declaration rescinded around 5 a.m. on Dec. 4, I crashed into bed, waking a few hours later to make breakfast for my kids before school. Conversation at the table was surreal, scarcely believable. Tragedy transmuted into farce.

One of the astonishing things about the whole episode — the biggest Korean political earthquake since democratization — is that almost no one predicted it. Aside from a few progressive politicians, whose uncertain allusions to Yoon’s plans were ignored or ridiculed, almost all politicians as well as journalists, experts, analysts, businesspeople and foreign government leaders were totally surprised. Even U.S. intelligence officers tell me they did not know (which is itself problematic, but a topic for another column).

I certainly did not predict Yoon’s rash action. Pundits usually do not take stock of their errors. Transparency is embarrassing. But it is the season of accountability — for Yoon and other alleged coconspirators, at least — and I feel compelled to reflect on my own misses. I may not have declared martial law, but I did not predict it either, despite the signs. And yet, for professional reasons I am supposed to be politically informed.

More personally, neither did I predict that so many of my friends and acquaintances on the political right would end up supporting Yoon’s authoritarian move, often based on a mix of partisanship and conspiracy theories. On the other hand, in the weeks after martial law I did predict that Korea would be so reputationally damaged that it would have no shot at securing uranium enrichment or spent nuclear fuel reprocessing rights. Wrong again. As it happens, the Trump administration has seemingly little problem granting this as a part of an agreement involving Korean nuclear-powered submarines. I also predicted President Lee would be more accommodating to China, and yet he has been tougher than expected.

Martial law is one year behind us, 2025 is coming to a close and I am humbled at how Korea’s dynamism — for better or worse — consistently defies my understanding.

Mason Richey is a professor of international politics at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies, president of the Korea International Studies Association and editor-in-chief of the Journal of East Asian Affairs.