Jeon Jong-min, then-acting head of the Serious Crime Investigation Agency, left, Kim Jong-cheol, acting commissioner general of the National Police Agency, center, and Lee Jeong-hyun, acting head of the Prosecution Service, salute the national flag during the 43rd Cabinet meeting at the Blue House on Oct. 6.JOINT PRESS CORPS
Chin Jung-kwon
The author is a professor at Kwangwoon University.
The heads of the Serious Crime Investigation Agency, the Prosecution Service and the National Police Agency sit in a Cabinet meeting, taking notes on the president’s instructions. The scene recalls North Korean officials dutifully recording Kim Jong-un’s words. Taking down even trivial remarks seems a gesture of personal loyalty.
Such a spectacle, unimaginable in a democracy, threatens to become routine. The interior minister offers wordplay: “Did prosecutors maintain neutrality by staying away from Cabinet meetings?” By that logic, because police have not eliminated crime, we might as well abolish the police.
The acting police chief says he will not rule out reopening an investigation involving lawmaker Han Dong-hoon’s daughter. The head of the Serious Crime Investigation Agency suggests an earlier investigation involving Han’s daughter may have been buried and calls for the truth to be established. Apparently both agencies have time to revisit controversies from four years ago.
Was preventing politically motivated investigations not the stated purpose of prosecutorial reform? Having demanded separation of investigation and indictment, the ruling camp concentrates both powers in special counsel investigations when politically convenient. It then extends investigations through successive rounds, resembling a rainmaking ritual continued until rain finally falls.
Even media outlets identifying as progressive oppose bringing investigative agency chiefs into Cabinet meetings. Yet the president appears determined to make their attendance regular. Why? Insecurity. He wants to exercise direct control over those who investigate.
The two lawmakers mentioned as possible justice ministers point in the same direction. Both are former senior prosecutors who served as the president’s lawyers or headed his legal support team. Both belong to a Democratic Party lawmakers’ group seeking dismissal of charges against him. They are precisely the people a president desperate to have charges dropped would want.
He has effectively paid legal fees with public appointments. Jeon Chi-young, Lee Tae-hyung, Cho Sang-ho, Lee Jang-hyung, Kim Hee-soo, Cho Won-cheol, Lee Chan-jin and Cha Ji-hoon, all associated with defending him in various cases, now hold senior government positions. Their legal work involved election law allegations, the Daejang-dong scandal, North Korean remittances and other cases.
When he was opposition leader, he paid through parliamentary nominations instead. Park Kyoon-taek, Lee Geon-tae, Kim Gi-pyo, Kim Dong-ah and Yang Bu-nam were involved in legal defenses or support. The next justice minister is expected to emerge from this circle. There must be limits to the privatization of public office. Has the president effectively assembled a government from his own law firm?
These figures, the author contends, continue protecting their former client using the authority of their offices. Privatizing public positions thus becomes privatizing state functions, ultimately undermining the public system itself.
Attacks on Chief Justice Jo Hee-de also lead back to the president’s legal troubles. The Democratic Party argues that Jo refused the president’s demand to resubmit Supreme Court justice nominations. Yet the Constitution gives the chief justice the power to recommend candidates. The president appears willing to disregard that authority because he wants someone else appointed.
His fixation on court packing may stem from his narrow escape in an election law case, aided by the decisive vote of former Justice Kwon Soon-il, whom figures implicated in the Daejang-dong scandal named as part of the so-called 5 billion won ($3.7 million) club. Without dismissal of the charges, the president could face trial after leaving office. The apparent plan is to follow Venezuela’s Hugo Chávez by expanding the Supreme Court and filling seats with loyalists.
These have become major political issues shaping Korea for years. At their center lie one man’s private concerns: the president’s legal exposure. It is a reverse Copernican revolution, replacing a universe revolving around the sun with one revolving around Earth. National affairs now seem to orbit Lee Jae Myung’s personal interests.
When the chief justice resists, impeachment threats follow. The acquittal of Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon in a political funding case has become another purported ground for impeachment, although the chief justice cannot intervene in individual judges’ rulings. Facts apparently matter little to his attackers. Common sense is their enemy and ignorance their weapon.
Destroying constitutional government does not necessarily require a coup. A military insurrection is loud and visible. A quiet insurrection conducted by political lawyers can gradually hollow out the state unseen. This new form of constitutional subversion may be difficult to reverse and could leave lasting damage even if corrected.
This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.
