Korean politics reaches its singularity

The author is an editorial writer at the JoongAng Ilbo.
In physics, a “singularity” refers to a point at which conventional laws collapse — where variables like density or temperature explode toward infinity, as in the heart of a black hole. Futurist Ray Kurzweil borrowed the term to describe a moment in human society when artificial intelligence and advanced technologies surpass human understanding, triggering irreversible and uncontrollable change. Kurzweil predicts that this tipping point will arrive by 2045, when superintelligence emerges and Homo sapiens merge with machines.
That future may be closer than it seems. Whether humanity ultimately arrives at a utopia — or dystopia — is still up for debate. But one field in Korea appears to have already crossed its own singularity: politics.
![Former President Yoon Suk Yeol, right, and first lady Kim Keon Hee walk to the No. 3 polling station at Seoul Wonmyeong Elementary School in Seocho District, southern Seoul, on presidential election day on June 3. [NEWS1]](https://koreajoongangdaily.joins.com/data/photo/2025/08/08/1e55e9a5-379c-49ff-addf-a22af7d71c44.jpg)
Former President Yoon Suk Yeol, right, and first lady Kim Keon Hee walk to the No. 3 polling station at Seoul Wonmyeong Elementary School in Seocho District, southern Seoul, on presidential election day on June 3. [NEWS1]
By many measures, Korean politics has long lagged behind the democratic norms of more mature parliamentary democracies. Still, key milestones — such as the 1987 constitutional reform introducing direct presidential elections and the first peaceful transfer of power in 1998 — led many to believe that Korea’s democracy was gradually deepening.
Recent developments, however, paint a more troubling picture. Rather than maturing, Korea’s democratic system appears to be rapidly unraveling. In just a short time, foundational conventions and assumptions have collapsed.
At the center of this political disruption is former President Yoon Suk Yeol’s declaration of martial law last December. While the Democratic Party’s (DP) relentless push for impeachment created a legislative deadlock that deserved criticism, Yoon’s decision to consider deploying the military to neutralize the opposition was extraordinary — and deeply alarming. That such a plan could be entertained in the 21st century shocked many citizens.
On the night of Dec. 3, 2024, armed troops appeared on television patrolling the National Assembly grounds. The scene shattered a longstanding public belief: that Korea had permanently moved beyond military involvement in civilian politics.
Yoon’s broader governing style also broke with precedent. He not only refused dialogue with the opposition but also clashed with senior members of his own party. Reports indicated that he consulted political operatives of dubious credibility when deciding party nominations. Most notably, he drew his wife into state affairs to an unprecedented degree. Warnings from the media about her overreach were ignored. Some observers suspect that his martial law decree was driven, above all, by an urge to shield his wife from legal jeopardy. In the end, both are now facing criminal charges — a consequence of failing to distinguish between public duty and private interest.
The administration of President Lee Jae Myung, inaugurated six months after the state of emergency, has benefited from the contrast. On the surface, it appears more stable. But in terms of political culture, it too reflects a continuing decline.
With the DP holding an overwhelming majority in the legislature, the People Power Party has been marginalized. The liberal party has fast-tracked major bills with little debate, often in ways that appear more tactical than deliberative. The newly elected DP chair openly declared that he would not engage with the conservative party and even floated the idea of disbanding it. What might once have been dismissed as rhetorical bluster now feels disturbingly plausible in an era where conventional norms have eroded.
This raises the question: If the National Assembly is to function as a one-party chamber, what purpose does it serve? Why not simply have the executive govern unilaterally? In isolating the opposition, the DP may ultimately harm itself by undermining the legitimacy of the system it controls.
![Newly-elected Democratic Party leader Jung Chung-rae waves the party flag during the party’s national convention at Kintex in Goyang, Gyeonggi, on Aug. 2. [YONHAP]](https://koreajoongangdaily.joins.com/data/photo/2025/08/08/aec180bc-3a76-44f9-8827-494b2258de10.jpg)
Newly-elected Democratic Party leader Jung Chung-rae waves the party flag during the party’s national convention at Kintex in Goyang, Gyeonggi, on Aug. 2. [YONHAP]
Democracy is sustained by checks and balances. Its core mechanism is dialogue and compromise. While majority rule is fundamental, suppressing minority voices is the hallmark of authoritarianism, not democracy.
The current one-party dominance in the legislature represents the political singularity triggered by last year’s crisis. Since the 1987 constitutional reform, Korea has never seen the major opposing parties in such disarray. The long-term effects of a collapsed bipartisan structure are difficult to predict. But one consequence is clear: Extended political imbalance will likely intensify ideological conflict and deepen social divisions.
President Lee pledged in his inaugural address to be a unifying leader. The reality, however, is moving in the opposite direction.
Translated from the JoongAng Ilbo using generative AI and edited by Korea JoongAng Daily staff.
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