How six hours of martial law reshaped a stunned South Korea

Just before 10pm on a near-freezing evening in Seoul, rumors began circulating among reporters that South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol planned a late-night announcement.

Yet when journalists showed up at the presidential briefing room, they found themselves locked out. On the other side of the door, hunched over a podium wearing a navy blue suit with a red tie, Yoon shocked the nation and the world by declaring martial law for the first time since South Korea became a democracy nearly four decades ago.

Speaking for about six minutes in a national address, Yoon railed against his opponents for creating a "legislative dictatorship" and warned the nation might "collapse at any moment." He vowed to "eradicate the shameless pro-North anti-state forces" and "pass down a proper country to future generations."

Nobody could quite believe it. Was the president of South Korea — a key US ally for decades, member of the Group of 20, leader in global chip production — actually mobilizing the military against his political opponents?

"It really stunned everyone," Yeo Han-koo, a former trade minister in the previous government, said in an interview. "My friends in Korea as well — we don't know exactly what happened, why it happened, and how it happened."

Within 20 minutes of Yoon's announcement, opposition leader Lee Jae-myung — now a favorite to take power — raced to the parliament building to attend an emergency session. He began livestreaming on the way, telling listeners there was a high chance Yoon would mobilize the army to arrest lawmakers and asked South Korean citizens to show up at the parliament to protect democracy.

Even worse for Yoon, members of his own ruling People Power Party were also shocked. Han Dong-hoon, the party's leader, called the martial law declaration "wrong" and vowed to stop it.

Around midnight, military helicopters started landing on parliament grounds, with some 230 armed troops skirmishing with lawmakers and aides as they sought to enter the main building. Glass was broken on the second floor.

Once lawmakers achieved a quorum, 190 of them — including nearly 20 from Yoon's party — voted unanimously to overturn his martial law declaration. At around 4:30 a.m. local time, Yoon finally again appeared on television, this time to back down and rescind the order.

Now, after six hours of chaos and a sleepless night, South Koreans and the rest of the world are trying make sense of why Yoon would make such a reckless move. It quickly became apparent that it stood no chance of success, and could now see him booted from office while putting his political opponents — the same ones he lambasted — into the presidency.

That scenario would likely prompt South Korea to adopt a softer policy toward North Korea just as Kim Jong Un sends troops to Russia to help Vladimir Putin's fight in Ukraine, setting up a similar dynamic to when Donald Trump first took power in the US in 2017. The uncertainty over the economic outlook contributed to the benchmark stock index closing 1.4% lower on Wednesday.

An official at South Korea's presidential office, who asked not to be identified, said Yoon opted for a surprise briefing because he thought the impact would be minimal. The official claimed the whole process followed constitutional procedures, and Yoon didn't block the lawmakers from entering parliament because he respected their decision — even though the martial law order banned the National Assembly from operating and he sent troops into the building.

'Sense of Turmoil'

Yonhap news agency reported Wednesday that a quartet of military commanders led by Defense Minister Kim Yong-hyun — who went to the same high school as the president — recommended the martial law order to Yoon and helped move troops on the night. Citing "military and political circles," the report said many senior officers weren't aware of the plans and there's currently "a sense of turmoil inside" the armed forces.

On Wednesday evening, Kim Yong-hyun apologized for the martial law order and offered to resign, saying he took "full responsibility" for the measure and all troops were acting at his direction. It's unclear if Yoon will accept the resignation.

In filing impeachment charges on Wednesday, the opposition sought to remove Yoon as well as Kim Yong-hyun and another official. If the motion gets support from more than two-thirds of lawmakers, Yoon will be suspended and the Constitutional Court will then rule on the case, a process that could take several months.

Yoon has become more and more isolated since squeaking out a victory in the March 2022 election, the closest race in South Korea's history. A former prosecutor who made his name taking down a former president for corruption, the conservative Yoon was an outsider from the start.

One of his first moves was to shift the presidential office away from the iconic Blue House to a Defense Ministry complex. Then in late 2022, a scandal erupted after a leaked video showed Yoon's wife, Kim Keon Hee, receiving a Dior handbag worth 3 million won ($2,100) from a pastor who wanted a softer policy toward North Korea. Prosecutors decided not to charge her.

Yoon's popularity has steadily declined even after the opposition won a sweeping victory in April legislative elections, falling to 17% last month. Since then, the Democratic Party has sought to thwart his agenda, filing impeachment motions against government officials and negotiating hard on next year's budget.

In his address, Yoon called the impeachment motions "unprecedented" and accused the opposition of paralyzing the country. Yet it still remains unclear why he thought this sort of gambit would be successful.

One former official at South Korea's presidential office said that since Yoon came in without a political base, many officials around him aren't close aides who can give him a clear picture of the situation on the ground.

On the streets of Seoul on Wednesday, protesters at a rally seeking Yoon's impeachment seemed to capture the mood of the nation.

"It's so embarrassing," said Park Sam-choon, 76. "For me, Yoon looks like a five-year-old boy. He doesn't know what he is doing."