When President Yoon Suk Yeol declared martial law at 10:23 p.m. on Dec. 3, it sent a shock wave across the country and surprised the international community.
Upon hearing the breaking news, my first guess was that war had broken out. That first guess was further validated when I heard military helicopters hovering overhead in the dark skies over Noryangjin, where I live, close to Yeouido, where the Korean National Assembly is located.
But it turned out that the martial law declaration was a political tactic to attack opposition parties and muzzle the free press and civil societies. This included measures such as banning political activities, controlling the media and allowing arrests and detentions without warrants. The helicopters seen flying by were busy deploying special forces troops who stormed the National Assembly.
For many in the country, it was very difficult to go to sleep that night. Many citizens went to the Assembly, where members of the National Assembly held an emergency session and unanimously passed a resolution demanding the termination of martial law. After the resolution was passed, the military forces withdrew from the National Assembly. Before the sun rose, the president lifted the martial law declaration at 4:30 a.m. after only six hours.
It was widely reported that according to the Constitution, martial law can only be declared in times of war, armed conflict or a similar national emergency. The Lawyers for a Democratic Society (Minbyun) criticized the martial law, saying that "President Yoon's martial law declaration and the related actions of the military have no basis under the Constitution or law." They described it as "An exercise of state power that undermines the functions of the National Assembly and judiciary while violating fundamental rights such as the freedoms of assembly and association." Minbyun also pointed out that "President Yoon's declaration of martial law violates procedural requirements under the Constitution and Martial Law Act for declaring martial law."
A few days later, I rode my bike over to the Assembly area on the afternoon of Dec. 6 to see what was happening there. There was a tense and uneasy feeling because of the strong police presence the day before the vote on the first impeachment bill, which failed when ruling party members boycotted the vote.
I returned to the Assembly on Saturday to photograph a public concert that was to be held near the Assembly as part of the protest. I was so excited to return to the area and see Koreans protest their president and rally in favor of the second impeachment bill, which was voted on that day. I found myself among millions of people who were waiting for the results.
When the news came out that the impeachment had been approved, a sudden public uproar and exhilaration washed through the crowds. That excitement mixed with the cold weather and my body shook in relief. Quickly the atmosphere uplifted into a celebratory mood, with music and slogans in every corner. People were smiling, dancing and jumping around. Free giveaway drinks and snacks helped people endure the cold evening. I was glad that the country tried hard to normalize itself in a beautiful modern manner and that Koreans chose freedom and democracy over possible dictatorship.
It's said Korea's National Assembly is the largest single parliamentary building in East Asia. I have been inside a couple of times as well, as it's usually a visitor-friendly place. For decades, that powerful building has been a symbol of Korea's vibrant democracy, freedom, modernity and economic miracles, as well as Korean unification, as the plenary chamber in the building has additional seats for new lawmakers in case reunification occurs.
Last week, once again, the country stood firm in upholding democratic values amid unimaginable political turmoil. I believe that Koreans wouldn't let anyone underestimate their collective power. Next, Yoon's impeachment will be deliberated in the Constitutional Court, which has 180 days to reach a ruling. Even if they let him resume his work as president, it seems unlikely that the people will accept him as their leader again. I have no doubt that the nation that was traumatized by unexpected political instability will ultimately recover and maintain its liberal values of freedom and democracy.
Bereket Alemayehu is an Ethiopian photo artist, social activist and writer based in Seoul. He's also the co-founder of Hanokers, a refugee-led social initiative and freelance contributor for Pressenza Press Agency.