Columns
The election commission scandal and the disappearance of politics
The NEC deserves scrutiny, but the ballot shortage crisis also revealed how partisan reactions threatened public trust and raised the risk of an election invalidation fight.
Keum Tae-sup
The author is a former lawmaker and prosecutor.
Since the ballot shortage fiasco, both the ruling and opposition parties have focused on attacking the National Election Commission (NEC). From the standpoint of election administration, few failures could be more serious than voters arriving at polling stations only to find no ballots available, or casting ballots while vote counting is already underway. The NEC deserves a thorough investigation and accountability.
Yet the NEC was not the only institution that revealed serious weaknesses that day.
The reaction of Korea’s political class did little to reduce confusion or preserve public trust. Instead, both sides became consumed by political calculations and nearly pushed the situation toward a larger crisis. Rather than reassuring voters, politicians quickly transformed the controversy into another partisan battle.
My first thought was that an election invalidation lawsuit — a concept usually confined to law school textbooks — might become a reality.
There are two broad types of election-related lawsuits. In a close race where a recount could change the outcome, or when the winner is suspected of violating election laws, the losing candidate may seek to invalidate the winner’s election. Such cases do not challenge the election itself. If the court rules in favor of the plaintiff, only the winner changes.
An election invalidation lawsuit is entirely different. It argues that defects in the electoral process itself are serious enough to render the results unacceptable. If successful, it requires a new election.
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Such cases are rare. Unless a dictatorship has manipulated an election or public order has deteriorated so severely that citizens cannot freely exercise their voting rights, defects serious enough to invalidate an election seldom arise. Yet the NEC’s failure to provide enough ballots created the possibility of such a challenge.
A rerun election would be embarrassing enough on its own. More troubling is that it could worsen rather than resolve the problem.
Even if an election were invalidated, the original results would remain known. If a new election produced a different winner, supporters of the original victor would inevitably feel aggrieved. Some citizens might reject the court’s ruling and refuse to accept the legitimacy of a rerun.
Conflicts involving voting and vote counting are highly combustible. The prospect of rival groups confronting one another in the streets over whether a rerun election should take place is unsettling. Once public trust begins to erode, restoring confidence can become far more difficult than correcting the original mistake.
As these concerns mounted, the political response arrived.
People Power Party (PPP) leader Jang Dong-hyeok declared that Seoul’s election had been tainted and should be considered invalid. He argued that vote counting should be halted until the facts were established and that a new election should follow if the investigation justified it.
The ruling Democratic Party (DP) responded immediately. Party Secretary General Jo Seoung-lae dismissed the proposal, saying there was no reason even to consider suspending the count or conducting a revote.
In an era of political polarization, politicians’ remarks are amplified by their supporters. At the time, the ruling DP candidate Chong Won-o was leading opposition PPP candidate Oh Se-hoon in the vote count. Exit polls also suggested a DP advantage. When reports emerged that ballots had run short in districts such as Songpa and Gwangjin, areas regarded as favorable to Oh, online comment sections erupted.
The political class helped create those conditions by rushing into a public confrontation before the facts were fully understood.
The final results released the next morning overturned expectations. Oh won by a comfortable margin. Many commentators expressed relief, noting that a razor-thin defeat could have produced a far more dangerous situation.
Reforming the NEC will not be easy. Until now, judges regarded as relatively neutral political actors have traditionally served as commission chairpersons. Following this controversy, even that structure may come under review.
If it does, Korea must decide who should oversee elections in the future. Supporters of both the ruling party and the opposition will inevitably assess every proposal through the lens of political advantage. Managing those conflicts, persuading competing interests and building a new institutional framework are tasks that belong to politics.
Yet judging by the response of political leaders, who appeared acutely aware of how the election results might affect their own interests, it is difficult to be confident that Korean politics is prepared to fulfill that responsibility. The ballot shortage crisis tested more than the NEC. It tested the entire political establishment.