President Yoon Suk Yeol’s shocking declaration of martial law sent South Koreans reeling from 0 to 100.
Within hours of Yoon’s late-night announcement on December 3, protesters gathered in the streets of Seoul and lawmakers were so frantic to stop the order that they climbed the legislature’s fence. A few days later, the President barely escaped an impeachment attempt. The following weekend, officials gathered once again to oust Yoon. This time he was successful. Thousands of protesters shouted happily in the streets and released balloons into the air.
For much of the world beyond South Korea, the intensity of the past few weeks is a difficult event in a country that has fought hard for democratic rights and has categorically refused to part with them. But while many believe the government has failed, the swiftness of Yoon’s fall also points to South Korea’s culture, which in recent years has partly focused on maximizing efficiency and striving for betterment. Rapid industrialization has taken place through direct approach to solving. Or worse.
This ethos is referred to in Korean as polypolyor “Hurry up, hurry up” – touches on issues big and small. At its most positive, it is an approach to life that has allowed the country to climb to the top of global supply chains and punch above its weight in business, politics, and pop culture.
Over the past few decades, South Korea’s most iconic companies, including Samsung Electronics Co. and Hyundai Motor Co., found success through embracing creative destruction and taking bold steps. Infrastructure projects have often moved forward at a breakneck pace, and poverty and the scars of past colonial and military rule help shape decisions, motivating the public to keep striving for a stable future.
For example, unlike neighboring Japan, where corporates often struggle to innovate and the same party has been in power for decades, Koreans are not afraid to take bold steps or express their displeasure. Yang Kiho, professor of Japanese studies at Sungkyongho University in Seoul, called the two countries “polar opposites.” In Japan, regime change is rare because resistance is largely rejected.
Nevertheless, the Korean people wasted no time in a massive unified response after Yun declared martial law, one of the country’s most consequential events in decades. Thousands of protesters took to the streets of Seoul carrying lighted batons and dancing to pop songs at rallies SprainA hit by the girl band Espa.
,polypoly Culture is an extremely powerful tool,” said Yoon Sooyeon, 41, a supporter of the protest movement who works in an orchestra in Seoul. “That’s a big part of what forces Korea to do things that other countries can’t do. “It’s special how we can all come together very quickly and get excited.”
He said the past month also reflected the anger that is underlying another popular term: nambi gyunseungOr boiling pot syndrome. Koreans heat up quickly and cool down equally quickly, he said. “I’m not a big fan of this easily heated nature at all,” she said. “But when there’s motion, it actually translates into huge amounts of energy.”
The history of South Korea helps explain its culture. In less than 100 years, the East Asian nation freed itself from Japanese occupation, avoided conflict with North Korea, and transformed its poor, agrarian economy into one of the world’s most formidable economies, with a GDP comparable to that of today. It is 85 times bigger in India. Five decades ago. add to the development of something polypoly In the Chollima Movement, when North Korea urged workers to work harder and faster to boost production after the Korean War ended in 1953.
This mentality affected South Korea, which was the poorer of the two economies after the fighting ended. Business and political leaders moved the country forward by encouraging a specific and often dramatic approach to achieving quick results.
South Korea’s chaebols, huge, family-run conglomerates that dominate the economy, are dominated by powerful people. Former Samsung president Lee Kun-hee is famous for telling his employees that they should give up everything for the good of the company except their wives and children. In 1995, he set fire to 150,000 phones and faxes, some of which were defective, to make a statement about quality control, an incident known as the “Anycall Execution”.
To build the Gyeongbu Expressway, one of South Korea’s first highways, developers hired 9 million people and members of the military, and completed the work a year ahead of schedule. And Park Tae-jun, founder of Posco Holdings, one of the world’s largest steelmakers, was so determined to speed up construction of a plant in the city of Pohang that he lived at the construction site.
This approach to development has its negative aspects. In political terms, South Korea’s leaders are often criticized for dramatic excesses and levels of public conflict unheard of in other parts of East Asia. Many Prime Ministers of the country were impeached or put in jail. Even Yun’s decision to declare martial law signals polypoly: After only a five-minute meeting with advisers, the President proceeded with orders to thwart “anti-state forces” among his political opponents.
Koo Jeong-woo, a sociology professor at Sungkyunkwan University in Seoul, said the term carries some negative connotations, although it “induces a highly sophisticated level of cooperation.” Others see it as a simplistic portrayal of Korean culture, noting that polypoly Expressed differently from the past. Many argue that standards of living are so high today that extreme measures are no longer necessary.
still, polypoly There is a feeling that suggests perseverance and survival. After Yoon’s announcement, the Korean people knew what to do.
“When things like this happen, we get a glimpse of the nature of culture,” Koo said. “Koreans are not shy about expressing themselves. We are very passionate and have a strong passion towards achieving goals, something we have acquired and developed in response to our geopolitical situation, the Japanese occupation and the Korean War.”
For many, the goal this month was to oust Yoon, whose approval rating had fallen to 11% before the impeachment vote. During his tenure, young Koreans, especially, have blamed his administration for growing income inequalities and lack of job opportunities.
On Saturday, more than a quarter million Koreans braved the cold to mark the end of the president’s chapter. A rival group of pro-Yun protesters, who were largely older and more conservative, also gathered in Seoul’s Gwanghwamun Square, a central landmark in Korean history.
Before the vote, Kim Yebin joined protesters outside the National Assembly with her parents and sister. the crowd sang along Saturday nightA popular K-pop song, the lyrics change from moment to moment. “On Saturday night, impeach Yoon Suk Yeol!”
Many people talked emotionally about the last time martial law was imposed in South Korea. In 1980, students led an uprising for democracy in the city of Gwangju. The army attacked the protesters with force, firing indiscriminately into the crowd and killing hundreds.
Immediately after the votes were counted, phones lit up with news alerts: 204 votes in favor of removing Yoon and 85 votes against. The crowd got angry. Protesters cried and hugged their neighbors. “We did it!” Kim shouted.
“From start to finish everything happened at lightning speed,” said Kim, whose throat was sore from singing. “The truth is that we are a crowd of 200,000 different individuals. But we were here united with the same goal.”
The days ahead may still be difficult. After Yun declared martial law, South Korean markets dropped billions of dollars and the won against the dollar fell to its lowest level since the global financial crisis. The Bank of Korea has vowed to stabilize the economy after Saturday’s vote, but the potential for instability remains.
Within a few months, South Korea’s Constitutional Court will also rule on the legality of the impeachment motion. If the measure goes ahead, and Yoon is formally removed, the government has 60 days to call new presidential elections.
Yet despite the uncertainty, many Koreans say the month has brought much of the country together, reflecting the unique resilience of a population unwilling to turn back the clock on history’s darkest chapters. .
“There’s a hundred-year-old tradition of resistance,” said Ben Forney, a Seoul National University researcher who writes about economic security. “I think Koreans now believe they can make change.”
(This story has not been edited by NDTV staff and is auto-generated from a syndicated feed.)
