Lee Hyun-sang
The author is a columnist at the JoongAng Ilbo.
The "Designated Survivor" (2016) begins with a terrorist attack on the U.S. Capitol during the president’s State of the Union address. The president, cabinet members and most lawmakers are killed instantly. A lower-ranking cabinet official, absent from the event as the government’s designated survivor, suddenly becomes president and struggles to preserve both the state and democracy itself.
Woo Won-shik wipes away tears after expressing frustration during a plenary session of the National Assembly on May 8, announcing that he would not put a constitutional amendment bill and 50 other bills to a vote because of a filibuster request by the People Power Party. [YONHAP]
The drama raises timely questions for Korea’s recent constitutional amendment debate, which collapsed after National Assembly Speaker Woo Won-shik failed to secure bipartisan support. The centerpiece of the proposal was a clause automatically invalidating martial law if parliamentary approval were not obtained within 48 hours.
But what if, as in the drama, the National Assembly itself became unable to convene because of war, terrorism or a catastrophic disaster?
Some may dismiss such concerns as excessive imagination. Yet few people imagined the declaration of emergency martial law in December 2024 before it actually happened. A constitution is not merely a political slogan. It is the framework governing the state itself, and every clause should be crafted with even unlikely scenarios in mind.
There are ways to prepare for circumstances in which the Assembly cannot physically meet. Emergency voting by available lawmakers could be permitted. Temporary substitute institutions could also be created to perform limited legislative functions. Yet little was heard during the amendment debate about whether such safeguards were seriously examined.
After the amendment effort collapsed because of opposition from the People Power Party (PPP), Woo criticized conservatives, warning that if another illegal insurrection-like situation emerged 20 or 30 years from now, the party would become “a criminal in history.” The veteran politician, approaching retirement as speaker, was also seen wiping away tears.
His emotional appeal may have been understandable, but constitutions cannot be revised through sincerity or good intentions alone. As Woo himself argued, the amendment was supposedly designed to prevent events that might occur decades into the future. Pushing through politically divisive revisions immediately before an election therefore appeared awkward in itself.
The issue extends beyond martial law provisions. Debate over revising the Constitution’s preamble raises similar concerns. The preamble is not merely symbolic. Korea’s Constitutional Court has repeatedly recognized it as a substantive legal standard.
In 2011, the court upheld state confiscation of assets accumulated through pro-Japanese collaboration during the colonial era. The same year, it ruled unconstitutional the government’s failure to pursue a diplomatic resolution regarding compensation claims by former wartime sexual slavery victims against Japan. In both cases, the court cited the spirit of the constitutional preamble.
Including the May 18 Democratization Movement and the Bu-Ma Democratic Protests in the preamble may have symbolic meaning. But such revisions also require broader public debate over their legal implications. Once specific historical events begin to be listed, disputes over interpretation and fairness are likely to continue.
In truth, neither the ruling bloc nor the opposition showed much enthusiasm for the amendment itself. The proposal avoided the core issue of constitutional reform: restructuring political power. Korea’s extreme polarization stems partly from the winner-take-all nature of the single five-year presidential term.
Woo Won-shik declares the vote on a proposed constitutional amendment invalid during the first plenary session of the May extraordinary National Assembly on May 7 after the measure failed to meet the quorum requirement because People Power Party lawmakers boycotted the vote. [YONHAP]
The ruling party’s controversial proposal for a special counsel investigation tied to prosecutorial indictment withdrawals also reflected a political structure discouraging power-sharing and compromise. Meanwhile, President Lee Jae Myung further complicated matters by branding opponents of constitutional revision as defenders of martial law. The rhetoric echoed the black-and-white ideological framing that progressive forces themselves long criticized under accusations of being “reds.”
At the same time, the PPP cannot avoid responsibility either. Rather than presenting detailed alternatives, the opposition largely limited itself to refusing to participate in the vote.
Political philosopher John Rawls argued that constitutions should embody what he called an “overlapping consensus,” allowing groups with differing beliefs to nonetheless agree on shared principles. A constitution, in that sense, is the minimum framework through which members of a society recognize one another and agree to coexist.
No matter how noble the intentions behind constitutional revision may be, attempts to push it forward through pressure and exclusion are unlikely to succeed. Before anything else, the ruling bloc must help create conditions in which both sides can seriously discuss the fundamental problems of Korea’s political system. That is the only way to avoid the recurring tragedy of five-year presidential power.
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.
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