The president's social media: Science and backstory

Jang Deok-jin

The author is a professor of sociology at Seoul National University. 

Many Koreans today appear to be enjoying the dopamine rush of political efficacy — the confidence that we can change the world. According to Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) data released in 2024, 38.7 percent of Koreans reported high political efficacy, ranking eighth among 30 countries and 8.8 percentage points above the average. Korea ranked above Sweden, Germany, Finland and Britain, countries Koreans often admire for their advanced politics.

But this rating is recent. Korea once had exceptionally low political efficacy. In the 2004 International Social Survey Programme, only 15.7 percent of Koreans reported high political efficacy. Among OECD countries, only a few post-socialist Central European countries ranked lower. Korea’s democratic problem then was that low efficacy depressed voter turnout, weakening democratic representation by narrowing the range of citizens whose voices were reflected in elections. In less than two decades, though, Korea became remarkably confident politically. What exactly happened?

Social media began attracting serious attention in Korean politics during the 2010 local elections. What seems ordinary today felt novel then: Prominent politicians would “follow back” ordinary users and retweet their posts. People also gained confidence from connecting with like-minded users cheering them on in real time.

Political efficacy began rising around the same period. Social media was not the only cause, but people with excessive political efficacy are invariably heavy social-media users.

There are several pathways. One is repeated learning that politics responds when people connect and make demands. Even those not deeply engaged in politics encounter political information, communicate directly with politicians and experience their demands becoming public issues.

Another is successful mass collective action offline. Social media lets large numbers of people share information in real time, making it powerful for rallies and demonstrations. During the impeachment protests of 2016-17 and 2024-25, it became an exceptional tool for mass mobilization. People developed confidence that “when I participated, even a president was removed.”

The period when social media and political efficacy reinforced each other also overlapped with the rise of a provincial lawyer who became a mayor, provincial governor and ultimately president.

A vast body of scientific research has examined social media’s effects. A representative finding is that immersion in social media can strongly undermine performance. Users interact mostly with similar people and gain reassurance and belonging by encouraging one another. Taken too far, however, this has side effects.

Criticism starts to feel like betrayal. People lose sight of how coldly those outside their group may view them and resist perspectives beyond what their own circle considers correct. Such users tend to exhibit greater prejudice and hostility, while biased information and irrational judgments become more likely, lowering performance.

It is not difficult to imagine why President Lee Jae Myung turns to social media when politically besieged. As Seongnam mayor, he used it to overcome the city’s geographic limits and spread his image as a refreshingly outspoken politician. As Gyeonggi governor, it helped him showcase his ability to execute policy and elevate basic income into a presidential issue.

Those experiences continue today in attempts to pursue housing policy as he once cleared illegal facilities from valleys and to order sweeping surveys as he did during the Covid-19 pandemic. Misconduct uncovered through such efforts could spread on social media and boost his support.

As Democratic Party leader, Lee championed direct democracy and used social media to draw highly mobilized supporters into the party. It is natural that memories of social media’s political benefits become more precious when circumstances grow difficult.

Lee’s controversial posts display several negative elements identified by research: emotional language toward owners of multiple homes and critics, for example, and apparent insensitivity to how people outside his political camp may react when he courts insiders with “jwa-ahage,” a supporters’ pun replacing the woo (the Korean word for “right”) in “woo-ahage,” meaning “elegantly,” with jwa, meaning “left.”

If this continues, the scientific prediction points toward poorer political and policy performance. Yet there is also a personal backstory: Surrounded by attacks from both left and right, Lee may find it difficult to abandon social media, which can seem like his only reliable ally.

Unless he escapes that backstory, throughout the remainder of his term he will face not only political opponents but also a difficult struggle against science’s prediction of declining performance.