Rallying for democracy

In early December 2024, at a time of year when gatherings in Seoul typically occur under joyful pretences with the backdrop of Christmas spirit permeating the city, last year’s gatherings held a different kind of spirit: rallying for democracy. In addition to the usual Christmas lights strung in abundance, another kind of light was present throughout the city: k-pop lightsticks. But it was not a concert that citizens were attending — Koreans were fighting for the preservation of democracy, their lights symbolising a refusal to return to the nation’s dark past.

Having recently returned from a year living in South Korea, I have been reflecting on my experience of this fascinating and culturally rich country. Prior to moving there, my longstanding interest in Korea inspired me to pursue a master of international relations degree with a thesis focusing on South Korean foreign policy. As a result, my curiosity about and interest in the country encompassed not only cultural and social aspects but also history and politics. Living in South Korea inevitably raised questions about North Korea; when there is a proximate, viable threat, people naturally consider it to be the one of greatest concern. Accordingly, that the political turmoil in Korea came not from the most prominent and enduring external threat facing the country — its totalitarian northern counterpart — but rather from a domestic source, the president (the very person holding the highest position of South Korea’s political power, who took an oath to uphold the fundamental ideals of democracy), was extraordinary. President Yoon Suk-yeol’s unprecedented and unconstitutional declaration of martial law on 3 December 2024 sent shockwaves far beyond South Korea’s borders. After plunging the nation into political chaos, the proclamation was retracted mere hours later against the backdrop of rapid and significant opposition from both civilians and politicians alike. Despite its short duration, Yoon’s imposition of martial law under unjustifiable circumstances irrevocably altered Korea’s democratic foundations.

In today’s globalised world, threats are increasingly uncontained by a nations’ borders; what manifests as an ostensibly domestic issue in fact increasingly has international effects. Consequently, though Yoon’s declaration of martial law was a domestic issue, it echoed far beyond Korea’s borders. In an era in which the world is experiencing challenges to democracy and democratic backsliding, I was curious about the implications this ‘regression of democracy’ would have on the condition of Korea’s democracy, and the potential reverberations on other democratic nations, New Zealand included. Did Yoon’s invocation of martial law cast light on a democratic system that is vulnerable and could fracture in the face of authoritarian threats? Or, as the rapid and enduring civilian mobilisation against the declaration indicated, did it highlight the fact that, despite the threat confronting the very foundations of their democracy, Koreans demonstrated a democratic resilience that is strong in the face of fracturing, and reflects the very essence of democracy: that power is vested in the people? Guided by my curiosity, I sought to explore several questions: how did South Korea’s history inform the present? Is there a thread of continuity that has endured from the days of authoritarianism to influence citizens’ response to Yoon’s declaration of martial law? And, as a young person myself, I was particularly curious about youth engagement in this contemporary battle to protect democracy: in the East Asian political environment, where youth engagement has been in decline in recent years, what role did South Korean youth hold in championing democracy? And, finally, what could democratic nations like New Zealand learn from this?

Remarkable transformation
South Korea in 2025 is a prosperous, technologically and economically advanced democratic nation. Its economic and industrial development following the Korean War, known as the ‘Miracle of the Han River’, wrought a remarkable transformation; poorer than its northern counterpart in the immediate aftermath of the war, it is now the thirteenth-largest economy in the world and fourth-largest economy in Asia.1 South Korea is well-known for its impressive contribution to the global economy across a variety of sectors; it is the home of global technological powerhouses, including Samsung and LG, and possesses an increasingly powerful defence industry.

Beyond the success of its burgeoning economy and hard power, South Korea’s ever-expanding and increasingly popular k-pop and media industry, and cultural exports, including food, skincare and beauty products, have gained the nation global popularity, enhancing its soft power. The country’s assets in both hard and soft power underpin its status as a significant middle power in international affairs.2 However, the other side of this shiny coin of globalisation is significantly less positive; the embers of the burning past Korea endured mere decades ago under a repressive authoritarian system still smoulder on the periphery of Korean collective memory. Contrary to today’s thriving image, the nation has a traumatic history: 20th century Korea endured Japanese colonisation, division of the Korean peninsula into North and South, the destruction of the Korean War and, eventually, being an impoverished nation governed by brutal military dictatorships.

History and politics are intertwined in every nation’s fabric, and the past is a strong point of connection for the present. Turning back to South Korea’s history under authoritarian rule elucidates the political thread that has endured from the country’s 20th century authoritarianism to 21st century democracy. History reveals how Yoon’s recent declaration of martial law went far beyond the bounds of an isolated declaration to explain the inextricable link with the nation’s authoritarian past. It unveils why a president declaring martial law under unconstitutional pretences was a flashback to a repressive, dark past. Korea’s democracy is relatively young, and it is only when we consider Korea’s struggle for democracy that we can begin to understand the weight of recent events.

Protest history
South Korea is no stranger to fighting for democracy. Only a mere half-century ago its citizens were protesting against the repressive authoritarian regimes subjugating the nation. Having emerged from the devastating fratricidal conflict of the Korean War, Korea was one of Asia’s most destitute nations. From the dictatorial rule of Syngman Rhee — the first elected president of South Korea — to Chun Doo Hwan’s seizure of power through a military coup in 1979 and subsequent imposition of martial law, South Korea endured several decades of authoritarian rule punctuated by military coups. Within these regimes, martial law was frequently used to rigidly enforce authority and stifle political dissent; as a pillar of military dictatorships, it was associated with brutal military force and civilian repression.3 Despite the economic transformation of the nation during this period, the entrenchment of authoritarianism under the rule of successive leaders ensured that the economic transformation did not bring political evolution: as South Korea’s economy blossomed, the grasp of authoritarianism only tightened, leaving scars that would endure long after eventual democratisation.

This historical context reveals the significance of Yoon’s declaration of martial law in 2024. According to South Korea’s constitution, the president can declare martial law ‘when it is considered necessary to cope with a military threat or to maintain public safety and order by mobilising military forces’.4 However, Yoon’s reasons for imposing martial law — ‘threats of North Korean communist forces’, the need to ‘immediately eradicate the unscrupulous pro-Pyongyang anti-state forces that pillage the freedom and happiness of our people’ and to ‘protect free constitutional order’ — had no constitutional justification.5 Paradoxically, he took the worst anti-democratic action: unconstitutional martial law inherently goes against the very nature of democracy. Not only was the declaration an extraordinary action, but also it was unprecedented in recent South Korean democracy — the last declaration of martial law in Korea occurred in 1980.

The recent threat to the democratic foundations Koreans had fought to build in decades of struggle against an oppressive system was a weighty reminder of an authoritarian past that many believed existed only in remnants of Korean collective memory. For older generations of South Koreans, the pain and struggle of fighting for democracy are a living memory, experienced firsthand. For the youth of Korea, democratic institutions are the only ones they have known. Born into a democracy, they have no experience of their country’s authoritarian past, merely fragments of a collective memory passed down through generations. Even so, Korea’s youth demonstrated how deep the thread of history runs. There are significant parallels between the youth-led protests of South Korea’s Democratisation Movement last century and youth political participation in the recent protests protecting democracy.

Youth legacy
‘Youth’ and ‘political activism’ were two terms that existed hand-in-hand during Korea’s Democratisation Movement, but in the advanced, democratic South Korea of the 21st century youth are often criticised for their ‘political apathy’ and their comparatively quiescent political participation.6 Today’s youth live in a vastly different country from that of their forbears: having only ever known democracy, for them fighting for social and political justice does not hold the same imperative that it once did. However, youth engagement in the recent political movement against Yoon transcended this prevalent belief: its resurgence harked back to the youth-led protesting for democracy nearly half a century ago.

The grassroots student-led protesting against authoritarian rule during the Democratisation Movement was pivotal to the transition to democracy. In 1960, when student-led protests called for dictatorial President Syngman Rhee to resign, he imposed martial law — the first of sixteen such actions before the end of the century. Nearly three decades of brutal protests and martial law culminated in the Gwangju Uprising of 18 May 1980, where the government’s military forces ruthlessly massacred citizens in numbers believed to have been in the thousands. This became a watershed moment in Korea’s fight for democracy.7 The youth of this time left a momentous political and civic legacy that has made an indelible mark on the nation.

In today’s era, the robustness of this legacy was manifested in the response to Yoon’s declaration of martial law: in the following hours, South Koreans demonstrated the true essence of democracy (political power is vested in the people) through their rapid mobilisation to protect it. Through special forces breaking into the National Assembly to citizens rallying night and day for months, Koreans made clear their determination to prevent a regression from democracy back to authoritarianism. Week after week, through nationwide rallies across the country (with some citizens travelling hundreds of kilometres to join the demonstrations in Seoul), and in the sub-zero temperatures of the Korean winter, citizens gathered to call for democracy.8 These protests, as though a nod to history, were notable for the significant participation of youth; they also reflected an evolution of protests.

Strengthened thread
The thread of youth political engagement that was formed in the fight for Korea’s democracy had been strengthened during the 2016 impeachment protests against President Park Geunhye, following a myriad of political scandals.9 Notably, it was students whose protests ‘pulled loose a thread to unravel the web of corruption surrounding the highest echelons of political and economic power’.10 Increased youth political participation following the declaration of martial law was a noteworthy consolidation of this pillar. In particular, young women in their 20s and 30s made up a significant proportion of those protesting; commentators labelled them the ‘most visible demographic group’. At one rally, they were estimated to have comprised almost 20 per cent of the hundreds of thousands of attendees, and at the 7 December protest, around 30 per cent.11 One student aptly encapsulated the general youth sentiment about Yoon’s actions against democracy, and exhibited youth’s cognisance of democracy’s imperativeness: ‘Is this the 1980s? Is this the reality happening in 2024?’.12

In a possible reflection of youth culture and today’s technology, the style of protesting in Korea has evolved. Beginning in the early 2000s as demonstrations characterised by the use of light (specifically, candlelight) to convey peaceful dissent, it now includes waving k-pop lightsticks (well-known in Korea and amongst k-pop fandoms for being used to cheer on artists at k-pop concerts). The shift from using traditional candles as symbols to bearing candle-shaped LED light sticks and pictures of candles on mobile phones at major protests in 2016 reflected the significant increase in youth presence.13 Protest culture has undergone an even greater transformation in the recent protests for democracy. The change has been described as incorporating Korean media culture as a ‘medium for political expression’.14 From the period of political chaos in December to Korea’s election in June, what could have been mistaken for outdoor music festivals were, in fact, protests; thousands of people adorned with multicoloured lightsticks mimicked a k- pop concert.

Apart from the visual transformation, the sound of protests has also changed with the times: where the student-led pro-democracy movement protests of South Korea’s authoritarian era typically featured folk songs — known as minjung gayo15 — the protests against Yoon continued the recent trend of featuring k-pop songs. ‘Into the New World’ by Girls’ Generation has been popular at protests since 2016, with lyrics urging no wait ‘for any special miracle… the rough path in front of us might be an unknown future and challenge, but we can’t give up’.16 The evolution of youth-centric protests in Korea has been an amalgamation of the technology of the day with increased youth civic and political participation to represent democracy at its core — peaceful, yet powerful protesting:

we’re showing that political protests don’t need to be grim; this country is in chaos right now. We use light sticks at concerts, so why not here? I support K-pop, but I also support democracy.17

Though South Korea’s immense soft power is frequently discussed in the context of international influence, perhaps there is something to be said for its domestic effects as well. This new generation of protests, which has a distinct ‘youth’ element, has been labelled a reflection of ‘fandom culture’, a familiar culture to youth. In contrast to the ‘activist culture’ of protests during the country’s autocratic ruling, today’s festival-like protesting, where people are seated in orderly rows and sing k-pop songs, are inspired by a ‘refusal to give ammunition to state violence’.18 They are a stark contrast to the activist protest culture of South Korea’s pre-democracy times, where violence and armed conflict were common. The style is also a significant contrast to the nature of many protests seen in the West, particularly those New Zealanders themselves saw in the 2022 Covid-19 Wellington protest, which was underpinned by violence and descended into a riot. Protesting is a key pillar of a functioning democracy, and South Korea’s vibrant, yet peaceful form of protesting provides lessons that New Zealand protestors could draw upon.

Enduring light
Six months after Yoon’s failed attempt to impose martial law, and two months following his impeachment, Korea held an election on 3 June 2025 against the backdrop of months of protests embedded within a turbulent political environment. Voter turnout in this unexpected election was the highest since South Korea’s first election as a democracy in 1997, with a turnout of 79.4 per cent (2.3 per cent higher than the previous election).19 More than serving as a systematic process of democracy, the recent election was crucial in gauging the political unity of the nation in the aftermath of Yoon’s abuse of power. Korean people conveyed the strength of the nation’s democracy — in spite of its fracturing — through casting their vote:

martial law represents the freezing of democratic norms by military force… and yet, we saw a national pushback. It was collective act of democratic recovery’.20

Some have suggested that Yoon’s declaration of martial law shone light on an inherent weakness of democracy: a democracy one day is no guarantee of it the next. The system can fracture when faced with viable authoritarian threats, even from within, given the president’s constitutional power to declare martial law.21 South Korea’s election raised questions about the checks and balances of executive authority in the nation’s constitutional scaffolding. The inherent vulnerabilities of the country’s democracy in terms of accountability when faced with authoritarian threats were also highlighted. However, the election revealed that though ostensible, initial fracturing in the face of authoritarian threats may have been perceived, it was a fracturing that could be overcome through the resilience of the people.

The protection of democracy by Koreans demonstrates an enduring acknowledgment of the ends to which previous generations fought for democracy, and their resolve to ensure the system endures. However, whilst unprecedented voter turnout illuminated this commitment, Korea’s election concurrently revealed that the nation remains deeply polarised. Yoon’s extreme measure of declaring martial law occurred against a much broader backdrop of problems facing Korean society. Despite the country’s global popularity and status notable across multiple sectors, domestic issues are woven throughout South Korea’s societal fabric — ‘The Korean Paradox’. In addition to enduring structural challenges, deepening economic and employment problems and a severe fertility crisis,22 the nation’s political landscape is experiencing deep polarisation. An exit poll from the recent election revealed striking gender and generational divisions.23 It is this deep ideological and political polarisation across significant issue areas that may exacerbate the nation’s vulnerability to anti-democratic threats, if polarisation prevents unity of the people when the time to protect democracy arises.

Transcendent value
Whilst Korea remains deeply polarised, its population’s dedication to protecting the democracy of their nation elucidates that, perhaps, the value Koreans see in democracy transcends polarisation. In short, the thread of Korea’s history and politics tethered to the Democratisation Movement remains robust. However, the nation must hold on to this thread. With power vested in its people, democracy can thrive; conversely, polarisation and other internal ruptures may cause fractures too deep to reconcile, suggesting that what is the strength of democracy can also be its weakness. This deep polarisation is a challenge to democracies worldwide — New Zealand, too, has seen heightened polarisation in its politics during recent years — and it is in nations’ best interests to ensure polarisation does not divide them when it counts the most. If the threat of martial law to South Korea’s democracy informs us of one thing, it is that the foundations of a democracy are only as strong as its people; but rather than a weakness, this is a strength that can be nurtured.

In December 2024, against the backdrop of Seoul’s most popular areas and landmarks such as Gwangwhamun Square and Gyeongbokgung Palace, as if to serve as a reminder of Korea’s history, protesters gathered to fight for democracy nearly half a century after the country’s citizens struggled endlessly to gain it. When I return to South Korea and visit these areas, there will undoubtedly be a new layer of significance: in the sites representing the modern-day fight for democracy lie the lingering memory of thousands of lights that shone there. Perhaps the light of democracy is stronger than we think.

NOTES

1. Andrew I. Yeo, ‘Democratic Youth Movements in South Korea: Past, Present, and Future’, Global Taiwan Brief, vol 2, no 33 (16 Aug 2017) (globaltaiwan.org/2017/08/democratic-youth-movements-in-south-korea-past-present-and-future/).
2. Chung Min Lee, ‘The Future of K-Power: What South Korea Must Do After Peaking’, 22 Aug 2024, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace (carnegieendowment.org/research/2024/08/ the-future-of-k-power-what-south-korea-must-do-after-peaking? lang=en).
3. Asia Media Centre, 4 Dec 2024 (www.asiamediacentre.org.nz/ korea-s-dark-history-of-martial-law).
4. Constitution of the Republic of Korea, Article 7 (1) (elaw.klri.re.kr/ eng_service/lawView.do?hseq=1&lang=).
5. Sarah Chea, ‘Transcript: President Yoon Suk Yeol’s speech to declare emergency martial law’, Korea JoongAng Daily, 4 Dec 2024 (koreajoongangdaily.joins.com/news/2024-12-04/national/ politics/Transcript-President-Yoon-Suk-Yeols-speech-to-declare- emergency-martial-law-/2191990).
6. Yeo, op cit.
7. Asia Media Centre, op cit.
8. Yvette Tan, Suhnwook Lee, ‘These women helped bring down a president — now they say they feel invisible’, BBC, 1 Jun 2025
   (www.bbc.com/news/articles/cy8njzr42zvo).
9. Shin Min-hee, ‘Taking to the streets: The evolution of Korea’s rally culture’, Korea JoongAng Daily, 20 Dec 2024 (koreajoongang daily.joins.com/news/2024-12-20/culture/features/Taking-to-the- streets-The-evolution-of-Koreas-rally-culture/2204443).
10. Global Taiwan.
11. Lee Jae-eun, ‘Young women lead anti-Yoon Suk-yeol protests’, Ko- rea Herald, 14 Dec 2024 (www.koreaherald.com/article/10017118).
12. [행동하는 경기 대학생연대]“국민 손으로 막아낸 비상계엄령, 윤석열 퇴진도 우리
    손으로” ’, 24 Dec 2024, Oh My News (www.ohmynews.com/NWS_ Web/View/at_pg.aspx?CNTN_CD=A0003085749).
13. Shin Min-hee, op cit.
14. Raphael  Rashid,  ‘South  Korea  deploys  K-pop  light  sticks  and dance in protests against president’, Guardian, 11 Dec 2024 (www. theguardian.com/world/2024/dec/12/south-korea-martial-law-pro tests-k-pop-and-glow-sticks).
15. Lee Eun-joo, ‘Sing a song of protest 20 years on’, Korea JoongAng Daily, 3 Jun 2007 (koreajoongangdaily.joins.com/2007/06/03/ artsDesign/Sing-a-song-of-protest-20-years-on/2876323.html).
16. Lee Jae-eun, op cit.
17. Rashid, op cit.
18. Shin Min-hee, op cit.
19. Lee Jae-mook, ‘The 2025 Presidential Election in South Korea and Its Implications for Korean Democracy’, 13 Jun 2025, Asia Democracy Research Network (www.adrnresearch.org/publications/ list.php?ckattempt=1).
20. Choi Jeong-yoon, Lee Si-jin, Lee Jung-joo, ‘More than a vote: What June 3 election means to South Koreans’, Korea Herald, 1 Jun 2025 (www.koreaherald.com/article/10500339).
21. Carnegie Endowment.
22. Asia Democracy Research Network.
23. ‘Gender, generation gap on full display in exit poll showing entrenched differences’, Korea JoongAng Daily, 3 Jun 2025 (koreajoongangdaily.joins.com/news/2025-06-03/national/2025 presidential/Gender-generation-gap-on-full-display-in-exit-poll- showing-entrenched-differences/2322105).

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