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Korea Herald

[Editorial] Pardons for power

Presidential clemency rewards the powerful, aids political allies, while defying public sentiment Liberation Day on South Korea's political calendar has often doubled as a day for presidential pardons. The tradition is defended as a gesture toward national unity. This year, President Lee Jae Myung's first list of pardons since taking office was notable less for its length than for its politically insensitive timing and implications. The list of beneficiaries announced Monday includes former Justice Minister Cho Kuk, convicted of academic fraud and abuse of power; his wife Chung Kyung-shim; and Yoon Mi-hyang, found guilty of embezzling donations meant for former wartime sex slaves. The symbolism is awkward enough; the timing — barely two months into his presidency — makes it worse. The official explanation was familiar: the need to heal divisions and revive the economy. Justice Minister Jung Sung-ho spoke of 'overcoming social conflict,' while the presidential office invoked 'dialogue and reconciliation.' Yet the list reads less like a unifying gesture than a political favor bank being settled. It grants political resurrection to figures whose crimes struck at the very values that any democratic administration must safeguard, such as fairness, probity and respect for law. Cho Kuk's fall was swift and public. Once a celebrated law professor and a key ally of former President Moon Jae-in, he resigned as justice minister after 35 days amid allegations that he forged documents for his children's university admissions. Courts found him guilty; his daughter lost her medical license. Neither Cho nor his wife has meaningfully acknowledged wrongdoing or sincerely apologized. Another controversial figure on the pardon list is Yoon Mi-hyang, who diverted funds intended for some of Korea's most vulnerable citizens — survivors of Japan's wartime sexual slavery — and ignored court recommendations to return the money. The list extends beyond high-profile names. Former lawmaker Choe Kang-wook, who issued a false internship certificate for Cho's son, and former Seoul Education Superintendent Cho Hee-yeon, convicted of abusing his hiring powers, are also rehabilitated. The roll call includes politicians from both the ruling and opposition camps convicted of bribery and other crimes. Even SK Networks' former chairman Choi Shin-won, sentenced for embezzling billions of won, is restored. Progressive advocacy groups have warned that the move risks inflaming, rather than easing, public sentiment. Notably, a Realmeter poll released Monday showed Lee's approval rating fell 6.8 percentage points from the previous week to 56.5 percent, marking the sharpest decline since he took office. The irony is striking. Last year, as opposition leader, Lee criticized then-President Yoon Suk Yeol's pardons of conservative allies as an overreach of executive power, arguing that such decisions undermined the judicial process and weakened the separation of powers. By that same standard, Lee now faces similar criticism for his own pardons. The symmetry of partisan indignation — condemning in opposition what one defends in office — is an enduring feature of Korean politics. It is also a principal reason presidential pardons have become public-trust poison. Pardons, especially for politicians, must meet a high threshold: They should be rare, proportionate and broadly acceptable to the public. They are not tools for rewarding allies or neutralizing adversaries. When granted to figures who neither express remorse nor accept responsibility, they signal that political connection outweighs the rule of law. President Lee's Liberation Day pardons may bring short-term political gains, but they undermine a far more precious asset: public trust in impartial justice and disciplined leadership. The damage extends beyond slipping approval ratings, already evident, and will reveal itself starkly in future crises when calls for fairness fall on deaf ears. The enduring lesson, repeatedly ignored by successive administrations, is that without clear and transparent standards, presidential pardons become not symbols of unity but annual exercises in political hypocrisy, a legacy South Korea can no longer afford.