The South Korean president, Yoon Suk-yeol, is currently resisting in a hectic session that is still underway this Saturday in the National Assembly. The vote, which is secret, has been marked by the abandonment of the chamber by all but two of the deputies of the ruling People’s Power Party (PPP), an indication that in principle it will not go ahead. The president of the House, however, has decided to keep the polls open, waiting for more conservative deputies to return. Two more have done it. The opposition needs the support of at least eight members of the head of state’s party for the motion against him to succeed. The voting period, in any case, ends shortly after midnight.
Meanwhile, a crowd of 150,000 people, according to the organizers, continues to gather at the doors of the National Assembly, awaiting a final result. Although the atmosphere has gone from festive to disappointment as the afternoon progressed.
“Fucking terrible!” exclaimed a young man next to the closed door of the National Assembly premises. The decision of a vote prior to the motion, which called for the opening of an investigation against the first lady, Kim Keon-heen, which has been rejected, already indicated where the shots would go. Immediately afterwards, all but two of the deputies from the PPP, Yoon’s party, left the chamber, indicating that the impeachment motion had little chance of succeeding. The news, which the protesters have followed through huge screens placed in the street, has been received first with an icy silence and some solitary screams. Without gestures of fury. With enough sportsmanship.
“I can’t understand why they don’t unite [a la moción]. They are the representatives of the nation,” says Lee Geon-woo, a 25-year-old university linguistics student with the air of a K-pop singer. He carries an electric light candle in his hand. He says the president’s martial law, the intention to turn the military against the citizens, has been like trying to start a civil war. “And they still try to protect him.” While speaking, on the immense LED screens, one of the leaders of the Democratic Party, the main force of the opposition, center-left and majority in Parliament, demands, one by one, singing his name out loud, the return to the chamber of the conservative deputies of the PPP. The young student concludes by explaining the calmness with which they have taken the situation. “We are going to handle it carefully. “We know how to return the nation to normal.”
The day had started with a live broadcast by South Korean President Yoon Suk-yeol. Four days after provoking one of the protests and castled in a surprising silence, he finally spoke. He appeared at ten in the morning, local time, with a serious expression, a red tie, and bulging circles under his eyes. He made a fleeting statement, lasting just a minute and a half, that seemed to read from teleprompter: “I am sincerely sorry and I apologize to people, who must have been very surprised.”
To his apologies, he added that he made the decision to declare emergency martial law on Tuesday out of “desperation” as head of state. He has assured that he will assume any political and legal responsibility; denied the rumors of a new martial law that have frightened citizens in recent days; and concluded with some ambiguous words that could be interpreted as an incipient resignation, or as the assumption that, with this very Saturday, he has very little time left in power: “I will leave the question of my mandate and the future political stability plan in the hands of our party.” He finished his speech by bending his body with a bow: sorry, again. There have been no questions.
Saturday’s day began with a race of negotiations behind closed doors between political leaders while the hourglass is ticking down: the opposition’s intention was to vote at five in the afternoon, local time (9 o’clock in mainland Spain), in the National Assembly a motion to impeach the president. In order for it to go ahead, and add two-thirds of the Chamber (200 of the 300 seats), it was necessary to obtain the support of at least eight votes from the Government formation, Yoon’s People’s Power Party (PPP).
On Friday, Han Don-hoong, the group’s leader, following the revelation that when he declared martial law, he called for the arrest of political leaders. Han did not clarify, however, whether he would grant the eight votes necessary to remove him through voting. This Saturday, after the presidential apology, he reiterated that the president is not in a position to continue his mandate, and that his resignation is inevitable. Han has also met with Prime Minister Han Duck-soo, who should take over as head of state if Yoon is removed.
During the morning, citizen pressure has grown in front of the Parliament building. Despite the freezing cold, with temperatures below zero, thousands of people came to the area to continue shouting slogans against Yoon. Authorities expected up to 200,000 protesters. Many of them did not even come home last night: they arrived at the rally called on Friday afternoon, and it continued here this Saturday. In the early morning groups of citizens were even seen guarding the access doors to the Parliament premises. Covered in voluminous coats, they shared hot coffee and warmed themselves by a stove. The thermometer read 2 degrees below zero. They wanted to make sure that soldiers did not arrive at the Assembly again, they said.
South Korean citizens have shown signs of their iron commitment to democracy these days. At the doors of the Legislative Branch headquarters, cordoned off by agents, and amid the loud screams of loudspeakers, Young Choi, a 50-year-old airline employee, remembers how on Tuesday, when she was already in bed, she received the call from a relative to inform him that martial law had just been declared. He immediately headed to the National Assembly. They arrived with orders to take the chamber. He shows photos of himself on his cell phone, in the middle of the hubbub at the entrance to Parliament. They managed to prevent his passage, he says proudly. And here Young is still, waiting for the vote.
Kim Hong-Ji (REUTERS)
At his side, Kim Gap-soo, a well-known 66-year-old political analyst, tells how Tuesday’s declaration of martial law reminded him of the darkest parts of the South Korean dictatorship. The country has not experienced a similar situation since 1980. But Kim recognizes that the citizen reaction, and even that of the military and police themselves, has been very different from when martial law was decreed then. “The democratic mentality has improved a lot,” he says. Warning of Yoon’s dictatorial drift. He says he felt “humiliated, enraged, sad” by the extreme measure. And, surrounded by a crowd that sometimes stops to photograph him, he concludes by saying that the imposition of martial law flirted with three ideas: “Coup d’état, treason and civil war.”
