
Lee Hye-hoon, a nominee for minister for planning and budget, is seen in front of the Korea Deposit Insurance Corp. building in Seoul, Monday. Yonhap
The National Assembly and newsrooms, as workplaces, share one thing in common. Just as editors and reporters are at times pitted against each other over issues such as content edits, editorial direction and the realities of reporting from the field, lawmakers and their staff often misunderstand one another’s motives.
Lawmakers sometimes complain that their staff are passive, incompetent and lack creativity. As a result, they argue that they do not receive sufficient support. Legislative aides, on the other hand, might say their bosses are excessively demanding and treat them like personal servants, forcing them to work long hours and causing burnout.
Years ago, I had opportunities, at different times, to sit down with a first-term lawmaker and a legislative staffer working for a second-term lawmaker and hear their sides of the story.
The lawmaker complained about her “idle” staff. She said the National Assembly audit was just around the corner, yet none of her aides had begun drafting review papers she could study to prepare for the event.
The staffer’s account was very different.
The policy adviser said she was under constant stress because of her demanding boss. According to her, the lawmaker was usually out of the office all day and returned around 8 p.m. “That’s when the second half of her day begins,” she said. “She stays in her office for hours, and I have to stay too because my boss is there. She usually leaves around midnight.
“The trickiest part,” she added, “is that she constantly asks us if we have any great ideas that can help her stand out or gain the spotlight during hearings or committee sessions. But great ideas don’t come every day.”
I was reminded of these contrasting narratives about life in the National Assembly recently because of three politicians whose careers are now at stake: Reps. Kang Sun-woo and Kim Byung-kee of the ruling Democratic Party of Korea (DPK), and Lee Hye-hoon, a former lawmaker nominated for the post of minister of planning and budget. All three are under intense scrutiny after former staff members spoke out and controversial aspects of their pasts came to light.
Kang has become a symbol of abuse of power after her nomination as minister of gender equality and family. Multiple allegations were raised about her conduct after former employees disclosed what they endured while working for her, ultimately forcing her to withdraw her nomination.
Kang was later ousted from the DPK after a recorded conversation between her and Kim was made public. In the audio file, Kang confessed that she had received 100 million won ($68,200) from an aspiring politician in exchange for promising to secure that person’s nomination as a DPK candidate for the 2022 Seoul city council elections. Aware that the illicit payment could end her political career, she begged Kim for help. The leak caused a political firestorm. Under mounting pressure, Kang left the party, and the DPK’s ethics committee agreed to formally expel her.
Kim himself is now under pressure to leave the DPK. He faces multiple allegations, including claims that he abused his legislative staff and that his wife was involved in embezzlement.
Lee is confronting similar accusations. Her controversial past is haunting her future. Former employees have described in media interviews how they were mistreated while working for her. One testified that he suffered verbal abuse almost daily, saying Lee routinely yelled at him and called him stupid. Another said he was frequently tasked with running Lee’s personal errands and was even asked to fix a printer at her home.
“When I arrived at her house, her husband was there, playing the piano while wearing a headset,” he said in an interview. “I asked myself, ‘Her husband is here and could fix it himself, so why did she call me?’ But I had no choice.”
As long as life goes on, the past does not disappear. The misfortunes of the trio are a reminder that past actions can resurface at any time and derail one’s future. Justice may arrive late, but it does arrive eventually.
In this sense, the scandals can be seen as a form of belated retaliation by victims — voiceless people banding together to bring down powerful and influential figures.
But the deeper root of these cases lies in the long-standing culture of distrust between lawmakers and their staff.

Rep. Kim Byung-kee of the ruling Democratic Party of Korea (DPK) enters the DPK headquarters in Seoul, Monday. Yonhap