King Lear or King Loser

Brian YS Wong December 18, 2024 22:10

The Shakespearean tragedy ‘King Lear’, modelled loosely after the apocryphal Leir of Britain, tells the story of an ageing King who seeks to divide his power and land between his three daughters. Whilst his eldest two daughters indulge him with their sycophancy and obsequious disingenuity, his third daughter, Cordelia, declines Lear’s invitation to flatter him in exchange for material fruits. The conceited Lear opts thus to transfer all his wealth to the duplicitous Regan and Goneril, who leave their father destitute as they refuse to take him and his entourage in. A victim of his own hubris and desperate yearning for affection, Lear eventually perishes.

The story of King Lear has been cited in describing many a contemporary leader. In my EJ column a few months back I had compared the then recalcitrant Joe Biden – nursing his wounds from a catastrophic debate performance – to Lear, as both men refused to “go gently into that good night”, but in so doing, jeopardised all that was left to their respective political legacies.

More recently, however, there was an even more spectacular exemplification of the Lear Syndrome – albeit this time round, by a figure that has even less public sympathy, support, or rationale undergirding his thoughtless actions. On December 3rd, President of South Korea Yoon Suk Yeol and member of the right-wing People Power Party declared martial law in a televised address.

Yoon castigated the opposition, the Democratic Party (DPK) of engaging in “anti-state activities” in collusion with “North Korean communists” – reminiscent of the very excuses and rationale invoked historically for the subjugation of opposition in fragile democracies. He also outlawed political activities, gathering, and the free press, whilst ordering the arrest or detention of various key rivals and opposing voices to him within his own party – and beyond.

This self-coup began as a chilling reminder of the capricious and mercurial nature of democratic norms amidst institutions that feature a disproportionate concentration of power in the hands of the executive (and, specifically, the President). It collapsed six hours later, as a farce: the National Assembly (or whomever managed to make it back in time, against the military presence) voted unanimously to end the martial law, thus compelling Yoon to lift his short-lived order.

Several cabinet ministers and members have been arrested or pressured to resign, with the former Defense Minister seeking to end his own life on his own terms in detention. Yoon Suk-yeol has been impeached by 204 legislators, with his presidential powers and duties suspended accordingly. Korea is now governed by an Acting President – an unelected technocrat-cum-diplomat named Han Duck-soo.

In examining the run-up to and causes of this self-coup, one would be forgiven for their incredulity at the absurd nature of Yoon’s move. The odds of success, to say the least, were not particularly high. The fabricated – or exaggerated – assertions of DPRK infiltration were unlikely to pass the smell test when it came to the general public, including conservative right-wingers who are broadly skeptical of Pyongyang’s intentions. To envision and desire that the military could mobilise to the defense of the Presidency and deploy force against parliamentarians and prominent civil society actors, takes a special kind of bravado and fortitude – or, as some would put it, blind, naïve, and chillingly callous idiocy.

Yoon has emerged with all sorts of conniving excuses subsequent to his failed martial law. He faulted the opposition for being intransigent and purportedly unreasonable. He insisted that he had the best interests of his country at heart. He promised to fight on despite being impeached (there will be a 180-day period during which the Supreme Court may opt to overturn the decision). He has framed himself to be a martyr, a tragic hero, a defender of democracy and freedom. The most tragic part of all of this is – he could well be sincere in seeing himself as such: the vanguard of a delusion, clinging onto relevance like a desperate kite.

Make no mistake. We should harbour no illusion about the nature of Yoon’s actions: they were fundamentally antagonistic towards democracy, self-serving, and rooted in the most cynical beliefs about the nature of democratic politics. Yet what this incident also reveals lucidly, is that there exists a fundamentally anti-democratic streak amidst many members of the proverbial ‘Deep State’ of South Korea: one that would hark back to and draw upon the ‘halcyon days’ of junta rule under Generals Park Chung-hee and Chun Doo-hwan, as a source of strength and comfort.

Democracy doesn’t die in darkness. Nor does it die spectacularly. In many cases, democracy dies as a result of the decisions of power-hungry and -fixated individual leaders, who flagrantly defy the institutionalised rule-of-law and violate democratic norms, for the sake of stalling the inevitable turnover in power. The people of South Korean should of course be credited for their fecundity, as displayed by their mobilising and rallying around their democracy promptly and swiftly. Yet ultimately, it is Yoon’s ludicrous stupidity, that we must thank for his failure to destroy Korean democracy.

Brian YS Wong

Assistant Professor, HKU