On April 4, when a sitting president was impeached for the second time ever in South Korea’s constitutional history, Gwanghwamun was remarkably calm and peaceful—an atmosphere that belied the months of chaos and division that had preceded it. For many ordinary citizens, the impeachment was a long-awaited, natural outcome. It also marked the end of an exhausting period of political turmoil and the hope for a return to normalcy.
In a hastily released statement shortly after the Constitutional Court removed former President Yoon Suk Yeol from office, Democratic Party of Korea leader Lee Jae-myung called the event “a tragedy in our constitutional history that must never happen again.” He added, “This is a moment when I, along with all political community members, must engage in deep reflection and take full responsibility.” During a party caucus later that day, Lee reportedly reminded lawmakers that this was “not the end but the beginning,” urging them to be mindful of their words and actions.
Lee is right—this is not the time for the Democratic Party of Korea to bask in a sense of triumph. Even as the court handed down the dismissal, it criticized the National Assembly’s role in escalating the conflict. Acting Chief Justice Moon Hyung-bae, while reading the verdict summary, turned toward Democratic Party of Korea lawmaker Jeong Cheong-rae, who chairs the Legislation and Judiciary Committee, and recited a list of legislative excesses: “the unusually high number of impeachment motions initiated by the opposition,” “unilateral passage of bills opposed by the government,” and “the first-ever opposition-led passage of the national budget.”
The acting chief justice emphasized that the confrontation between the former president and the National Assembly could not be attributed solely to one side. It was, he said, “a political problem that should have been resolved according to democratic principles.” He added that the National Assembly “should have respected minority opinions and made efforts to reach conclusions through dialogue and compromise with the government, grounded in tolerance and restraint.” He also stated that the former president “should have respected the National Assembly as a partner in governance.”
Justice Jeong Hyeong-sik, the case’s lead justice, echoed this sentiment in a supplementary opinion, calling for legislation to limit the number of impeachment motions. While the most significant share of responsibility undoubtedly lies with the former president, who failed to manage conflict within institutional boundaries, the court made clear that the opposition’s relentless escalation of confrontation also bears blame.
Against this backdrop, Lee’s vow to reflect and take responsibility is a welcome gesture. But for it to carry real weight, he must follow through on it during the upcoming presidential race.
Yet even now, signs of the party’s trademark arrogance are surfacing. One lawmaker reportedly produced commemorative towels celebrating Yoon’s impeachment. Hardline pro-Lee legislators have claimed credit for “accelerating Yoon’s removal” by repeatedly filing impeachment motions, framing it as a kind of moral victory. When National Assembly Speaker Woo Won-shik proposed a constitutional amendment, lawmaker Yang Moon-seok sneered, “Give that to a dog,” and added, “Please, shut your mouth.” Jeong Cheong-rae told the speaker to “stop playing house.” These remarks show a complete lack of respect for the office. They are hardly surprising from a party that once threatened to impeach Constitutional Court justices for scheduling delays and proposed impeaching the entire cabinet to paralyze the government.
Until now, Lee has effectively condoned such behavior through his silence. A party insider once said he and others were playing “good cop, bad cop,” but that excuse no longer holds. Lee must now take real responsibility and uphold the dignity of a party seeking to govern. Only then can the slow return to political normalcy truly continue.
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