Public perception shapes ex-minister’s political future

At the end of last year, I had dinner with several veteran professors who describe themselves as representatives of the “mainstream conservative” camp. The conversation began with sharp criticism of former President Yoon Suk Yeol, accused of having “ruined conservatism,” and former Prime Minister Han Duck-soo, described as someone who “tripped over his own feet and ruined his life.” It soon turned to the sagging approval ratings of the People Power Party and former Justice Minister Han Dong-hoon. Words such as “shared responsibility” and even “traitor” surfaced. I did not take the charge of betrayal particularly seriously. Still, I was struck to hear similar language recently from former Bareun Party lawmakers who once carried that very stigma.

Former Justice Minister Han often articulates points that are factually sound yet fail to win broad support. He is aware of this tension. “Someone once told me, ‘People who dislike you will not say you are wrong,’” he recalled. "When one tries to make the right decisions under difficult circumstances, backlash is inevitable." In politics, however, facts alone rarely decide outcomes. Public perception can matter as much as, if not more than, objective correctness. A gap often emerges between a leader’s words and the way those words are received, shaped by tone, conduct, and accumulated impressions.

The so-called party members’ forum incident, which came to symbolize internal division, illustrates this gap vividly. Allegations first surfaced in November 2024, but Han largely ignored them. When he finally responded 20 days later, he spoke for 14 minutes, arguing passionately that calls to “expose” or “hunt down” anonymous posts were incompatible with the values of a democratic party. His argument was not wrong. Yet leadership demands more than invoking principles as a shield against personal controversy. To many citizens, such a response appeared less like principled restraint and more like an ethical blind spot.

When the party’s ethics committee decided this month to expel him, Han opened his response by calling the decision a case of “clear fabrication and political retaliation.” Only afterward did he express regret over how events had unfolded, a gesture that felt secondary rather than central. Had such words come a year earlier, they might have resonated differently. Brief, carefully framed apologies delivered through social media, often resembling performances by public figures, rarely persuade the public that remorse is sincere.

The same pattern resurfaced during People Power Party Chairman Jang Dong-hyuk’s hunger strike. Despite holding what many saw as the moral high ground, Han again found himself isolated. Critics derided the protest as a “run hunger strike,” suggesting it was an attempt to sidestep accountability for the rupture with former President Yoon and the controversy surrounding Han’s expulsion. Even so, the moment offered a chance to untangle a deeply knotted situation. Politicians far removed from hardline conservatism visited the protest site, expressed solidarity and urged dialogue. Their actions reflected a widely shared sentiment that even amid conflict, basic gestures of humanity should not be abandoned.

When disputes arise, Han appears more intent on prevailing than on grasping what kind of fight he is actually in. Traits once praised as strengths have, through repetition, begun to narrow his political reach. In politics, there are moments when conceding ground can ultimately strengthen one’s position. Few arenas demonstrate more clearly that trying to argue down public perception is usually a losing battle.

Today, almost no one points to Jang as “the future of conservatism.” Han, by contrast, is still spoken of as a “conservative asset.” His political fate will not hinge solely on the ethics committee’s expulsion decision, expected as early as Jan. 29. Ultimately, it will be determined by his own choices. Politics is not a meritocracy of credentials. If politics were about stacking credentials, Ahn Cheol-soo, widely seen as the ultimate “spec” politician, would have reached the top long ago. Instead, many citizens now look at Ahn with regret, wondering why he chose politics at all.