Just before 11 p.m. local time Tuesday, South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol declared martial law in a televised address to the nation. Shortly after, Gen. Park Ahn-Soo, the martial law commander, announced that “all political activities” would be banned and that “all media and publications will be subject to the control of the Martial Law Command.”
Within three hours, lawmakers and protesters gathered outside the National Assembly, as soldiers tried to bar the entrances. Lee Jae-myung, the leader of the opposition Democratic Party, livestreamed himself clambering over a wall to enter the building. Within five hours, 190 legislators unanimously overturned Yoon’s decree. And within six hours of the president announcing his power grab, Yoon made a second television address ending his declaration of martial law. By Wednesday afternoon, the opposition had introduced articles of impeachment against Yoon, with a vote possible as early as Thursday.
The heroics of South Korea’s Democratic-led opposition were a welcome and riveting sight for supporters of democracy around the world. And they provided a lesson for Democrats and other Trump opponents in America.
The parallels between the two countries’ political situations are beyond eerie.
It may seem glib to immediately interpret another country’s crisis through the American political system. But the parallels between the two countries’ political situations are beyond eerie. Yoon narrowly defeated Lee in 2022 with just under 50 percent of the vote. “The political novice has been compared to the former United States president Donald Trump and has been prone to gaffes throughout the campaign,” reported the BBC at the time, “He had to walk back a comment that the authoritarian president Chun Doo-hwan, who was responsible for massacring protestors in 1980, was ‘good at politics.’”
Yoon’s victory, analysts told The New York Times, “was more a referendum on his liberal predecessor’s failures than an endorsement of Mr. Yoon.” Increasing inequality and rising housing prices stoked voter discontent with both politicians and immigrants. Yoon wooed young men angry at feminists and the MeToo movement. And in office, he has frequently called his critics “communists” and the media “fake news.”
Sound familiar?
Contrast the six hours it took for South Koreans to block the demise of their democracy with the aftermath of Jan. 6, 2021. It took five days for House Democrats to introduce articles of impeachment. Though the articles had 218 co-sponsors, guaranteeing its passage, the vote wasn’t held until two days later. The impeachment trial didn’t take place until five weeks after the attempted insurrection, and three weeks after Trump had left office.
The delay gave conservatives time to consolidate a defense of Trump, once the initial shock had worn off. And once Trump was no longer president, Republicans like Sen. Mitch McConnell had an additional excuse to acquit. “The question is moot because former President Trump is constitutionally not eligible for conviction,” he said, arguing that the former president could instead be held accountable by the criminal justice system.
Now, Trump will return to the White House — and, thanks to the Supreme Court, with sweeping new protections from criminal prosecution. It turns out, in other words, that a united opposition swiftly and decisively rebutting would-be authoritarians works better than taking a couple weeks and hoping it works out for the best.
Mistaken confidence saps a desperately needed sense of urgency.
For all the similarities between Yoon and Trump, one difference between the two countries is that while South Korea’s Democratic Party controlled the legislative branch, in the crucial hours and days after the attack on the Capitol, Republicans still held the Senate. Not until Jan. 20, when Kamala Harris was sworn in as vice president, did Democrats take both chambers.
There’s another, more crucial difference: South Korean leaders appreciate that democracy is a fragile thing. It is surely no coincidence that leaders in South Korea and Brazil, both of which experienced military dictatorships in living memory, resolutely rejected attacks on their democratic systems. (Less than six months after a January 2023 coup attempt, Brazilian officials barred former President Jair Bolsonaro from running for office until 2030.)
But for most Americans, particularly those in power, a United States without democracy is unthinkable. (The Jim Crow regime and other undemocratic systems in U.S. history are omitted from such rosy assessments.) That mistaken confidence saps a desperately needed sense of urgency. Trump’s anti-democratic actions are not a fever that will eventually break; they are a disease that must be speedily remedied.
Democrats did hold the quickest impeachment and trial in American history. But it wasn’t quick enough. The lesson is that the next time Trump transgresses the boundaries of the democratic system, and Democrats have a chance to hold him accountable, they must proceed as quickly as possible. Holding Congress open, demanding votes, keeping legislators in town — whatever is necessary must be done rapidly, lest Republicans misplace their briefly recovered senses. Once upon a time partisanship’s spell might break for a week or even two. Now these chances are measured in hours. Even the Senate can move quickly when it wants: After delaying the 2021 trial for three weeks, Democrats cut proceedings short because, as one senator told the House impeachment managers, “people want to get home for Valentine’s Day.”
The time will come when Trump and his minions attack democracy again. They cannot help themselves. And on that day, Democrats must be ready to act swiftly to defend democracy and impose the accountability that Americans demand.
