South Korea is again immersed in a high-stakes debate about justice — or the justices.
The controversy reignited last week when the Supreme Court overturned an appellate court's ruling that had acquitted Lee Jae-myung, the front-runner in the upcoming presidential election. The case was returned to the Seoul High Court, with the Supreme Court claiming that the "not guilty" verdict in the second trial was flawed.
The implications of the Supreme Court's decision were immense and deeply political. Initially, many feared this ruling could lead to Lee's disqualification from the race. That fear was laid to rest Wednesday when the High Court announced it would delay the trial until after the election. However, the debate over the partiality the Supreme Court revealed continues.
Public shock created an unprecedented suspicion, with accusations swirling that Chief Justice Cho Hee-dae was intervening in the election to influence the outcome. Critics contended that this was not merely a legal correction, but a deliberate political act that may have been orchestrated in coordination with former President Yoon Suk Yeol. Whether or not the allegation is true, the suspicion alone ignited political firestorms nationwide.
Some within the Democratic Party of Korea have pushed the idea of impeaching judges at the Seoul High Court to delay the trial until after the election. Others countered that such a radical measure could backfire by alienating centrist voters, damaging the party's credibility and inadvertently helping the conservative campaign.
Beneath this bitter political struggle lays a deeper philosophical reflection: the difference between justice and the justices. In its truest sense, justice is an abstract value — fairness, moral rectitude and the rule of law as an ideal. The "justices," by contrast, refers to those individuals and institutions — judges, courts, legal officers — entrusted to uphold that ideal. In principle, the power of justice comes from public belief in fairness and integrity. The power of the justices stems from the presumption that judges act as faithful agents of that public trust.
But when judges violate that trust — or appear to — the distinction collapses.
The Supreme Court's decision, whether legally correct or not, has broken that crucial presumption of neutrality. To many, it looked like the judiciary had stepped down from its pedestal of impartiality and entered politics. Chief Justice Cho may argue that his decision was purely legal, not political. But in a democracy, perception matters just as much as intent.
The justices must not only be fair, but also be seen as fair.
The court rushed a politically charged decision just a month before the presidential election. That alone might invite suspicion. It is a basic democratic principle that the judiciary must remain politically neutral.
Legislative bodies pass laws. Executive bodies implement them. And the judiciary resolves disputes with impartiality. Judges are not meant to be participants in political power struggles. They are referees. When referees start playing for one team, the game itself becomes illegitimate.
These troubling suspicions gave rise to several scenarios. In the most alarming one, the Seoul High Court would proceed at breakneck speed to deliver a verdict before the June 3 election. Such a course would have appeared aligned with the Supreme Court's concerted effort to block Lee Jae-myung's candidacy. That scenario, however, carries enormous risk for everybody. It would be legally fraught, politically explosive and could severely undermine public faith in democratic institutions. Thus, while dramatic, this picture seemed less likely, and the Seoul High Court did not take it.
Another scenario involved a counterattack by Lee's supporters. Using their parliamentary majority, the Democratic Party could initiate impeachment proceedings against judges involved in the case, thereby stalling the process. Although legally possible, this move would be deeply controversial and self-destructive. It could alienate moderate voters, who already view the political class skeptically. Lee's support — fragile after the recent political turmoil — could evaporate.
The Seoul High Court quickly delayed the trial until after the presidential election. This aligns with Korea's maturity as a democracy and reflects the legal profession's broader commitment to judicial restraint.
Why was this option chosen? Because most judges in Korea understand that their authority rests not on coercive power, but on public trust. And that trust depends on fairness, consistency and neutrality.
Even in turbulent times, many in the judiciary still uphold democratic principles. So, we can guess that the Supreme Court's intervention was not a grand conspiracy but rather a misconception — an act of judicial overconfidence or political naivete.
The justices may not have intended to affect the election, but they failed to grasp how the public would perceive their actions. If that is the case, then the appropriate response from the public and the political establishment should be one of strong rebuke, not violent overreaction. Excessive countermeasures could turn a judicial error into a full-blown constitutional crisis.
We must remember that the power of the justices does not come from high office, black robes or elite education. It comes from its alignment with justice: rightfulness, integrity and adherence to democratic norms like the separation of powers.
When the justices betray that alignment, they weaken their own authority and the very fabric of democracy.
The Supreme Court's recent decision fell short on all counts. It did not demonstrate wisdom, impartiality or restraint. The court should reflect deeply on this moment and ask themselves whether they have honored their oaths. And if they conclude, as many others have, that they have erred, they should have the humility to acknowledge it and resolve not to repeat such a failure in the future.
Korea’s democracy has endured graver trials. But when even one institution falters in its duty to principle, the entire democratic structure grows more brittle. That is why this moment is so consequential — not merely for Lee Jae-myung or an election, but for the soul of justice itself, and for those who claim to serve it.
Wang Son-taek
Wang Son-taek is an adjunct professor at Sogang University. He is a former diplomatic correspondent at YTN and a former research associate at Yeosijae. The views expressed here are the writer’s own. — Ed.
