South Korean prosecutors just did something that hasn’t happened in decades: they asked a court to sentence a former president to death. Yoon Suk Yeol, who briefly declared martial law in December 2024 before lawmakers voted to overturn it six hours later, now faces the ultimate punishment in a country that hasn’t executed anyone since 1997.
The request from special prosecutor Cho Eun-suk came Tuesday as Yoon’s trial wrapped up at Seoul Central District Court. The charges center on what prosecutors called a “self-coup,” an attempt to overthrow the constitutional order that Yoon was elected to protect. The court is expected to deliver its verdict on February 19, setting up what could be the most consequential legal decision in South Korean history since the country’s democratic transition in the 1980s.
For a nation that has witnessed the imprisonment of multiple former presidents on corruption charges, this case represents something qualitatively different. This isn’t about bribes or abuse of power in the conventional sense. This is about a sitting president sending soldiers to blockade the National Assembly in an attempt to suspend civilian government entirely.
What Actually Happened on December 3, 2024
The night of December 3, 2024, began like any other in Seoul until Yoon appeared on television just before midnight with a declaration that stunned the nation. Citing what he called threats to national security from the opposition Democratic Party, Yoon invoked emergency martial law, something no South Korean president had done since the military dictatorships of the 1970s and 1980s.
Within minutes, soldiers were deployed to the National Assembly building. Special forces attempted to enter the chamber while troops blocked access points and clashed with protesters who quickly gathered outside. The scene was surreal: a modern democracy with the world’s 13th largest economy suddenly looked like footage from a different era entirely.
But South Korea’s democracy proved more resilient than Yoon anticipated. Despite military cordons, 190 of the 300 lawmakers managed to reach the chamber, some climbing walls and breaking through barriers to get inside. By around 1 a.m., they had unanimously voted to overturn the martial law decree. Yoon lifted the order roughly six hours after announcing it, but by then the damage to his presidency was irreversible.
The Constitutional Court later removed Yoon from office, and prosecutors began building a case that would ultimately seek the maximum penalty the law allows.
The Charges and the Prosecution’s Case
Special prosecutor Cho Eun-suk laid out a case that characterized Yoon’s actions not as a policy mistake or even an abuse of power, but as an outright insurrection against the constitutional order. Under South Korean law, leading an insurrection is one of the rare crimes that carries the death penalty and, crucially, is not shielded by presidential immunity.
The prosecution argued that Yoon’s declaration of martial law was not a legitimate response to any actual threat, but rather an attempt to neutralize an opposition-controlled legislature that had blocked his agenda. By sending troops to physically prevent lawmakers from exercising their constitutional duties, prosecutors argued, Yoon crossed from political hardball into territory that threatened the foundations of democratic governance itself.
The prosecution also presented evidence that Yoon had coordinated with military officials to plan the martial law declaration in advance, suggesting premeditation rather than a spur-of-the-moment decision made in response to crisis. According to testimony presented at trial, senior commanders were briefed on the operation before Yoon’s television announcement, undermining any defense that the president acted hastily in response to perceived emergency.
Amnesty International responded to the death penalty request by calling it “a step backward for human rights,” noting that South Korea has maintained a de facto moratorium on executions since 1997. The organization urged the court to reject capital punishment regardless of the verdict on the underlying charges.
Yoon’s Defense and Response
Throughout the trial, Yoon has maintained that his actions were legitimate exercises of presidential authority intended to protect South Korea from what he characterized as opposition overreach. He called the investigations “frenzied” and accused prosecutors of “manipulation” and “distortion” of the facts.
In his final statement to the court, Yoon argued that the declaration of martial law was meant to “alert the public” to threats posed by the Democratic Party’s legislative tactics, not to permanently suspend democratic governance. He positioned himself as a defender of constitutional order rather than its attacker, claiming that opposition control of the legislature had created a form of governance that was itself unconstitutional.
Legal experts have largely dismissed this defense as insufficient to justify the deployment of military forces against a functioning legislature. Park Chan-woon, a constitutional law professor at Seoul National University, told Reuters that “martial law requires an actual emergency, not political disagreement. The constitution doesn’t give presidents the power to use soldiers to resolve disputes with the opposition.”
Yoon’s legal team has also questioned the procedural legitimacy of the prosecution itself, arguing that the special prosecutor’s office overstepped its authority. These arguments are likely to form the basis of any appeal, regardless of the verdict.
Why the Death Penalty Request Matters
The request for capital punishment is as much symbolic as practical. South Korea is classified as “abolitionist in practice” by international human rights organizations, meaning that while the death penalty remains on the books, no executions have been carried out in nearly three decades. Even if Yoon is sentenced to death, legal experts widely expect that sentence to be commuted or simply never carried out.
But the symbolism matters enormously. By seeking the maximum penalty, prosecutors are signaling that they view Yoon’s actions as representing the gravest possible threat to South Korean democracy. The request frames the case not as an isolated incident of presidential overreach, but as an existential attack on the constitutional order that required an equally severe response.
The case also carries implications far beyond South Korea’s borders. Democratic backsliding has become a global concern, with leaders in multiple countries testing the limits of executive power. How South Korea handles a former president who attempted to use military force against the legislature will be studied by scholars, policymakers, and would-be authoritarians worldwide.
Kim Joon-hyung, a political science professor at Handong Global University, noted that “the verdict will send a message about whether democracies can effectively hold leaders accountable for attacks on democratic institutions. The whole world is watching.”
What Happens Next
The Seoul Central District Court is expected to deliver its verdict on February 19. If convicted, Yoon faces a sentence ranging from life imprisonment to death. Regardless of the initial verdict, appeals are virtually certain, meaning the case could work its way through South Korea’s legal system for years.
In the meantime, South Korea’s political landscape remains in turmoil. The country has been led by acting presidents since Yoon’s removal, and new elections must be held within 60 days of the Constitutional Court’s ruling. The Democratic Party is heavily favored to win, which would cement the political defeat that Yoon was apparently trying to prevent through martial law.
International observers have praised South Korea’s institutions for withstanding the test. The fact that lawmakers were able to reach the chamber, vote to overturn martial law, and then pursue legal accountability through proper channels represents exactly the kind of democratic resilience that institutions are designed to provide.
The Bottom Line
South Korea is confronting a question that few established democracies have had to answer directly: what do you do with a leader who tried to use military force to stay in power? The death penalty request, however unlikely to result in execution, represents the prosecution’s answer: you treat it as the gravest possible crime against the state.
For South Koreans who lived through the military dictatorships that ended only in the late 1980s, the trial carries a weight that outsiders may struggle to fully appreciate. The country’s democratic transition came at the cost of blood, with student protesters dying in the streets to demand the right to choose their own leaders. That a democratically elected president would attempt to reverse that progress, however briefly, represents a betrayal that transcends ordinary political disputes.
The verdict on February 19 will not end the debate about how democracies should protect themselves from internal threats. But it will provide one data point about whether legal systems can deliver accountability when the person who attacks democratic institutions is the same person who was elected to lead them.
Whether that accountability ultimately takes the form of execution, life imprisonment, or something less severe matters less than the principle being established: that no one, not even a president, is above the constitutional order they swore to protect.
Sources
- South Korea prosecutors seek death penalty for ex-President Yoon - Al Jazeera
- Prosecutors seek death for South Korea’s Yoon over martial law attempt - Washington Post
- Death Penalty Sought for Korea’s Yoon in Historic Martial Law Trial - Bloomberg
- South Korea: Death penalty call for ex-President Yoon a step backward for human rights - Amnesty International
