The six hours of chaos that dragged South Korea into martial law and back
Lawmakers fought past soldiers to break into the legislature and overturn the president’s shock decree.
SEOUL—At around 10:30 p.m. Tuesday night, Wi Sung-lac, a prominent member of South Korea’s opposition Democratic Party, stared in shock at his television as the country’s president read a brief statement declaring martial law.
Wi, who grew up at a time when generals ruled in Seoul, knew he had to do two things: avoid arrest and figure out how to join fellow lawmakers in resisting Yoon Suk Yeol’s effort to turn back the clock on Korean democracy.
The 70-year-old diplomat-turned-politician grabbed his passport and a stash of U.S. dollars and pulled on his overcoat, a face mask and a hunter’s cap. He made a short phone call to his wife, warning her that “anything could happen,” and hurried out into the freezing night.
In the chaotic hours that followed, the nation’s political fate hung in the balance. It was a literal race for democracy: Enough of the country’s 300 lawmakers had to hold a vote to nullify Yoon’s martial order before the military locked down the National Assembly building.
In Yoon’s martial-law decree, the right-wing president said opposition parties had made the country vulnerable to North Korean “communist forces,” and he claimed emergency powers to censor the media and bar political activity—including parliamentary votes.
It was the kind of step not taken since the last military dictator to run South Korea was sidelined in 1987 in the face of mass pro-democracy protests.
As Wi and other opposition lawmakers hustled to the National Assembly building on the Han River that runs through Seoul, crowds began to gather outside the legislative compound, facing off with police in riot gear guarding the perimeter.
“It’s late, but the people must protect the nation,” opposition leader Lee Jae-myung said during a livestream, urging citizens to turn out. Some arrived on bicycles. Others sprinted from taxi cabs stopped in the middle of the street. Soon there were thousands of people.
‘The soldiers are coming’
Wi, who had arranged for his driver to secretly pick him up at a 7-Eleven near his home out of fear that soldiers would stop him, pushed his way past police at the gates of the National Assembly. Lee had to scale a tall fence to get in. Protesters lifted Jo Seoung-lae, another Democratic Party politician, over a fence. Democratic Party lawmaker Ahn Gwi-ryeong grabbed the barrel of a rifle that a member of the security forces had aimed at her chest, shoving the weapon aside.
“Are you not ashamed of yourself?” she shouted at the soldier, who turned around and walked away.
Gen. Paul LaCamera, head of the U.S. forces stationed in South Korea, warned American soldiers on Thursday to steer clear of the protests and to convey any travel plans to their superiors in case “something unexpected” occurred.
By the time 190 lawmakers had gathered in the voting hall of the legislature, special-forces soldiers had also arrived at the assembly compound on army helicopters.
Soldiers started smashing windows in an effort to gain entry to the main assembly building. Staffers tried to barricade doors with whatever they could find—boxes, tables and chairs. Some sprayed fire extinguishers, trying to keep the troops at bay.
Nervous lawmakers urged the speaker to get the vote under way. “Please be quick!” someone shouted. “The soldiers are coming!” another said.
National Assembly Speaker Woo Won-shik, of the opposition party, urged patience, warning that Yoon, a former chief prosecutor of South Korea, could dismiss the vote on a technicality if proper procedures hadn’t been followed.
Using the assembly’s electronic system, lawmakers cast their votes in a cavernous room where a large South Korean flag sits behind the lectern. They needed a majority vote to pass the motion. Up flashed the result: 190 in favor of overturning the president’s decree, zero against.
Included in the 190 were 18 votes from members of Yoon’s governing People Power Party. They came at the urging of party head Han Dong-hoon, once a close ally of the president who had previously served as Yoon’s justice minister. Han called the president’s decision unconstitutional.
“It was unanimous,” Wi said. “It was passionate, patriotic, filled with enthusiasm to defend democracy.”
Applause broke out inside the room. Speaker Woo ordered soldiers and police officers to leave the premises. The troops began pulling back.
Celebrating the end
Lawmakers stayed in the main hall, waiting for Yoon to assemble his cabinet, accept the National Assembly’s decision and formally lift martial law.
Outside, protesters also held their ground into the morning, sharing hand warmers and sitting mats. The shelves of a nearby convenience store had been stripped of food by hungry demonstrators. Food carts selling fish cakes and chicken skewers set up nearby, their owners cracking jokes with protesters.
When Lim Gayoung, a 40-year-old researcher, arrived on the scene after the vote, she found a festive atmosphere, with people singing, chanting and getting fried chicken delivered.
“No matter who you voted for,” Lim said, “martial law in this day and age is nonsense.”
At around 4:30 a.m., Yoon appeared for another televised address.
“Last night, I declared martial law with a resolute will to counter antistate forces trying to paralyze national affairs and collapse the liberal democratic constitutional order,” Yoon said. “However the National Assembly has requested the lifting of martial law, so I have withdrawn the troops.”
Yoon’s cabinet upheld the National Assembly’s vote about half an hour later. The next day, his entire cabinet—with the exception of Yoon himself and the prime minister—offered to resign. Yoon has accepted the offer from only one: the country’s defense minister, who according to Seoul’s military recommended the use of martial law to South Korea’s leader.
On Wednesday, Democratic Party lawmakers put forth a motion in parliament to impeach Yoon. The vote could take place as soon as Saturday. Yoon’s People Power Party said it would support him in the vote. Han, the party head, has asked Yoon to leave the party.
The opposition needs at least eight of the 108 legislators from Yoon’s party to back the bill for it to pass with the required two-thirds majority. A successful vote would kick off a monthslong process to ultimately remove Yoon from office, though his presidential powers would immediately be ceded to the prime minister. The country’s constitutional court next needs to certify the impeachment after reviewing its legal merits.
It took just six hours for South Korean martial law to be declared, enacted, nullified and lifted. Many citizens awoke Thursday morning unaware anything had happened. That swift repudiation was a win for democracy, said Han Jeoung-ae, a Democratic Party lawmaker, whose husband shoved her out the door after Yoon’s declaration and who had been one of the first legislators to arrive to vote.
“I still can’t believe this happened on a night in 2024,” she said.
Jiyoung Sohn and Timothy W. Martin contributed to this article.
Write to Dasl Yoon at dasl.yoon@wsj.com
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Business NewsPoliticsThe six hours of chaos that dragged South Korea into martial law and back
First Published:5 Dec 2024, 07:26 PM IST
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