THIS New Year dawns under a shadow in South Korea, absent the usual joy and optimism.
Instead, the country is beset by a series of crises that weigh heavily on its spirit. The impeachment of President Yoon Suk Yeol and the ensuing political instability is just one facet of the turmoil.
Economically, stagnant exports are reeling under pressure, with further damage anticipated from the protectionist policies of the incoming Trump administration.
Adding to the collective grief, the tragic plane crash in Muan last week has shaken the nation to its core. For many, this period represents South Korea’s “darkest hour” in decades.
As a former foreign journalist who covered South Korea’s turbulent times in the 1990s, I can’t help but draw parallels between then and now. The late 1990s were marked by political paralysis, violent street demonstrations and labour unrest.
Presidents were jailed on corruption and insurrection charges, and the economy teetered on the brink of collapse, necessitating a humiliating bailout by the International Monetary Fund.
Tragic incidents like the Sampoong Department Store collapse further compounded the nation’s anguish. The similarities with today’s challenges are striking.
This raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: What went wrong with South Korea? How did a nation celebrated for its dynamic democracy and vibrant economy reach this point?
Once hailed as a shining example of political and economic transformation, South Korea now faces a reckoning that demands serious introspection.
One potential answer lies in a recurring pattern of complacency. In the 1990s, South Koreans grappled with the same realisation – they had perhaps celebrated their achievements prematurely.
They perhaps opened their champagne too early. The hard-earned victories in democracy and economic growth led to a collective stagnation, with society failing to set new goals or embrace necessary reforms. Unfortunately, today’s crisis seems to echo this same complacency.
The democracy South Koreans fought so valiantly to achieve has struggled to evolve. The 1987 Constitution, born out of mass democratic protests, no longer aligns with contemporary needs.
Proposals to replace the one-term presidency with a two-term system for greater political stability have stalled due to partisan infighting.
Similarly, calls to curb the risks of an imperial presidency and modernise political institutions have gone unheeded.
South Korea’s single-member constituency system in the National Assembly has also fuelled divisive, polarised politics.
Its winner-takes-all approach exacerbates regional rivalries and entrenches political stagnation.
Efforts to introduce a more inclusive multi-member constituency system have been repeatedly blocked by vested interests clinging to the status quo.
The highly divided legislature often clashes head on with the administration, resulting in gridlock and an inability to pass meaningful reforms.
Economically, South Korea appears trapped in an outdated model. The bold reforms of the late 1990s have given way to inertia, leaving the economy overly reliant on a handful of conglomerates and export-heavy industries like semiconductors and automobiles.
When these sectors falter, the entire economy suffers. Recent declines in the won and the local stock market eerily echo the financial crisis of the 1990s, sparking alarm both domestically and internationally.The corporate over-leverage that triggered the 1997-1998 financial crisis has largely been addressed, but a new economic challenge looms – household debt.
South Korea’s household debt ranks among the highest in the world relative to gross domestic product, with many families heavily reliant on borrowing for essential expenses like housing and education.
This growing debt burden significantly hampers consumer spending, which is critical for offsetting declines in export performance. Consequently, South Korea’s economy remains alarmingly susceptible to external shocks, much as it was two decades ago.
Perhaps the most troubling signs lie in the country’s fraying social fabric. Increasing inequality, a wide gender gap, generational divides and regional disparities are fast straining social cohesion.
Hyper-competitive schools and workplaces are taking a toll on mental health, particularly among the youth, resulting in one of the highest suicide rates in the world.
Many young Koreans are abandoning hopes of marriage and family, leading to the lowest birth rate among the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development nations.
This demographic crisis, coupled with one of the world’s fastest-aging populations, threatens to place unsustainable financial burdens on future generations.
Also, many elderly South Koreans live in poverty due to inadequate pensions. Yet critical reforms to the national pension system and social safety nets remain mired in political deadlock.
The persistence of devastating human-induced disasters further underscores systemic failings.
Incidents like the Sewol Ferry sinking, the Itaewon crowd tragedy, and the recent Muan plane crash highlight a lingering disregard for public safety, despite past lessons from tragedies like the Sampoong Department Store collapse.
Yet, as Winston Churchill famously said during World War II, “The darkest hour is just before dawn.”
These words, spoken during Britain’s gravest moment with threats of a Nazi German invasion, were a rallying cry for resilience and renewal, not despair and disappointment.
South Koreans have weathered crises before with courage and determination, and they can do so again. While this New Year may feel like the gloomiest in recent memory, it also offers an opportunity - a chance to confront hard truths, embrace change, and forge a brighter future. — The Korea Herald/ANN
Lee Byung-jong is a former Seoul correspondent for Newsweek, The Associated Press and Bloomberg News. The views expressed here are the writer’s own.