Courtesy of Ian Valerio

Recent headlines have been dominated by the impeachment and arrest of South Korea's sitting president, a spectacle that has thrown the nation's political class into disarray. There is a leadership vacuum, instability, and the country's reputation has been dragged through the mud. For many, it has been tempting to conclude that the country is falling apart. Friends and colleagues from abroad ask with a worried look on their face, "What is happening over there?"

It's not an easy question to answer and there will be a huge inquest into all of this in the upcoming months and years. What we're living through, like the assassination of Park Chung-hee, the Nobel Peace Prize for Kim Dae-jung, and the impeachment of Park Geun-hye, will be written in the history books. And rightly so. But what won't be written about? And what do we miss when we analyze the political turbulence of the 1970s?

Look beyond the shouting matches on television and the dramatic photos of power-hungry politicians being dragged into courtrooms and what you'll see is something quite remarkable: Korea is still running.

The subways continue to snake through the capital in all directions, moving quickly from station to station, carrying millions of passengers daily. The schools remain filled (of course they do!) with teachers and students putting in the kind of hours that have defined this nation. The restaurants are full, the streets are busy, and the K-pop industry continues to smash it. Han Kang has won a Nobel Prize for Literature, Park Chan-wook and Bong Joon-ho have new films coming out. And the delivery drivers save our lives every day with their tremendously hard work. Life goes on, just as it has always done.

This resilience is not because of the political class. It is in spite of it.

The Elite

South Korea's political elite have long been characterized by scandals, infighting, and corruption. It is an open secret that the corridors of power here are often less about serving the public and more about serving personal ambitions or special interests. The impeachment and arrest of yet another president are not isolated incidents — they are part of a well-worn pattern. From military strongmen to democratic reformers, the nation's leaders have too often found themselves disgraced, leaving a legacy of disappointment and distrust in their wake. A popular internet meme for Korean presidents is a variation of the Monopoly board game but rather than a list of properties and train stations, every square says "Go Directly to Jail." To be fair, considering what has happened to some presidents, jail would be a preferable option

And yet, Korea endures.

The People

The secret to this resilience lies not in the Presidential Office (formerly the Blue House) but in the everyday lives of ordinary Koreans. It is the office workers who clock in each morning and work tirelessly to support their families. It is the small business owners who keep the economy ticking, even when times are tough. It is the engineers and maintenance workers who ensure that the trains run on time and the lights stay on. It is the teachers, artists and innovators who build the culture and society that the world admires.

Korea's political class may have stumbled, but its people rarely do. This is a nation that rebuilt itself from the ashes of war, transformed itself from one of the poorest countries in the world into a global economic powerhouse, and pioneered industries that shape the future. It often did so not because of exceptional governance but because of exceptional people.

Of course, the situation is far from ideal. A functioning democracy needs leaders who can inspire trust, enact meaningful reforms, and genuinely serve the public good. Koreans deserve better than a revolving door of presidents ending their careers in disgrace. They deserve a political class that matches the strength, resilience and innovation of its people.

But let's not confuse political dysfunction with national decline. Korea is not falling apart; it is being held together by the extraordinary efforts of ordinary people. The politicians may squabble, but the coffee shops keep coffee-ing. In fact, perhaps it is time to reframe the narrative. The endurance of Korea's society is not a testament to its politicians — it is a quiet but powerful rebuke to them. It is proof that the people can succeed even when their leaders fail.

And maybe that's the lesson here. Korea does not need a perfect government to thrive; it just needs the determination of its people, a determination that has always been its greatest strength. Let the political class be reminded: they do not define this nation. The people do.

David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.