Yong Hye-in and the prisoner's dilemma

The controversy surrounding Yong Hye-in will enter a second phase following her withdrawal as the nominee for minister of gender equality and family. Her decision to remain a lawmaker will not eliminate the controversies surrounding allegations concerning political funds contributed to her party and her husband’s salary, and questions about an activist organization’s work culture. Media attention, however, will likely shift more toward the next confirmation hearing.

The public resentment was noticeable. Only 13 percent of respondents viewed Yong as suitable for the ministerial position, according to Sept. 11 Gallup, and President Lee Jae Myung’s approval rating currently remains in the 30 percent range.

Many questioned whether Yong’s parliamentary experience had prepared her to lead the ministry. Technically, she was not without relevant experience, having served on the National Assembly’s Gender Equality and Family Committee and introduced legislation concerning life partnerships. But parliamentary experience alone does not demonstrate the practical expertise or administrative ability needed to lead a ministry, nor does it carry the same weight as decades of professional or academic work in the field.

Beyond her individual qualifications, the controversy renewed scrutiny of the system that enabled her to become a two-term lawmaker: the semi-mixed proportional representation system. First used in the 2020 general election, it departed from the previous parallel system, in which constituency and party-list seats were allocated separately. The reform sought to narrow the gap between parties’ vote shares and their parliamentary representation by partially compensating parties that won fewer constituency seats, designed to give smaller parties a better chance to enter the National Assembly.

Defying that original spirit, however, the two major parties established satellite parties to contest proportional seats while their parent parties concentrated on constituencies. By separating the two on paper, they prevented constituency victories from reducing their electoral blocs’ entitlement to compensatory seats. The Democratic Party of Korea (DPK)-led lists also incorporated candidates from smaller allied parties from the progressive bench, and Yong won seats through these alliances in both 2020 and 2024. She returned to her original party through expulsion procedures and retained her seat following the election.

Yong’s reliance on a major party’s electoral reach raises questions about political accountability. She benefited from the DPK's support without membership in the ruling party afterward. An arrangement that was meant to give smaller parties a voice has instead made their access to parliament dependent on bargains with the very parties whose dominance the reform was meant to curb.

Calls to change the system are growing. Na Kyung-won, who advocated abolishing proportional representation in 2019, has criticized its exploitation by Yong and other parties as “parasitic politics.” As much as Na is correct to criticize the exploitation, proportional representation itself does have certain merits. It has helped bring subject-matter experts or activists focused on marginalized issues into the National Assembly, enhancing the voices of those previously unheard and shedding light on diverse issues.

Foreign policy experts such as Kim Gunn, Wi Sung-lac and Kim Joon-hyung all gained proportional seats in 2024. Kim Ye-ji, a strong advocate for disability rights, won a second consecutive term. Others elected that year included climate policy specialist Kim So-hee and physician Lee Ju-young. Their presence showcases the range of experience that the system can bring into parliament.

Smaller parties pursuing niche political agendas or a “third path” have also gained representation through party lists. In 2024, the Reform Party won two proportional seats, while the Rebuilding Korea Party won 12 proportional seats. Overreliance on a leader’s individual fame and difficulties setting a sustained policy agenda have traditionally limited smaller parties’ influence, but that does not negate the value of an avenue for them to enter parliament.

The real problem might rest with the hypocrisy of major parties that on one hand speak of representation and on the other masterfully create ways within legal boundaries to exploit the system. Leaders from both progressive and conservative camps have criticized their counterparts’ efforts to game the system, and yet have been so merciful toward their own attempts.

Lee pledged to prevent satellite parties during his 2022 presidential campaign, yet, as DPK leader in 2024, he retained the semi-mixed system and endorsed another electoral alliance. Then-People Power Party leader Han Dong-hoon also supported his party’s satellite. Lee’s own explanation captured the very logic. In 2024, he argued that one party’s creation of a satellite required the other to respond unless it was prepared to lose.

The situation resembles the prisoner’s dilemma in one important respect. Neither party wants to exercise restraint if it expects the other to exploit that restraint. In the classic game, each prisoner has an incentive to betray the other, even though mutual betrayal leaves both worse off. In electoral politics, a party that refrains from creating a satellite while its rival proceeds risks a disadvantage. Anticipating that possibility gives both parties an incentive to create satellite parties.

Yet there is a twist in this analogy. Unlike the prisoners in the theory, the two major parties may not be the ones who suffer most from the mutual betrayal of the reform’s purpose. They may preserve their dominance while shutting out independent smaller parties. The prisoners can protect their own interests, while the victims are citizens whose choices the system was supposed to broaden.

Another difference between the prisoners and the two parties is that lawmakers have channels of communication to exchange their thoughts and make compromises, unlike prisoners kept in separate rooms. Despite this conduit, the pursuit of immediate political gains, coupled with deeply ingrained institutional distrust, gives each side a ready excuse to follow the other’s example.

Unless party leaders make the decision to prioritize fair representation, and unless those who recognize the problem build cross-party coalitions to make binding rules, and unless citizens hold them accountable, the two prisoners will not alter action. The victims will be none other but the citizens ourselves.

Park Jin-wan is a nonresident fellow at the European Centre for North Korean Studies at the University of Vienna and Co-Founder of U.S.-ROK-Japan Trilateral Next-Gen Study Group.