If South Korea formally impeaches its suspended president over his martial law debacle, one firebrand pastor says he is ready for “revolution.”
Evangelical preacher Jun Kwang-hoon is one of President Yoon Suk-yeol’s most fervent defenders, calling Yoon’s Dec. 3 martial law declaration a “gift from God.” He has been prepping his followers to take action for weeks, and Yoon’s release from detention over the weekend on procedural grounds has turbo-charged 68-year-old Jun’s sermons.
“If the Constitutional Court decides (to impeach him), we will mobilize the people’s right to resist and blow them away with one blade swoop,” Jun told hundreds of supporters during a service held Sunday outside Yoon’s residence.
Photo: AFP
Authorities are so worried about the potential for violence when the Constitutional Court issues its ruling on Yoon this month that police have been granted special permission to use pepper spray and collapsible batons if his supporters get unruly.
They have cause for concern.
The pastor — long a fringe character on the extreme right edge of South Korean politics — has moved into the mainstream in recent weeks by taking to the streets as the disgraced president’s chief apologist.
Photo: AFP
“President Yoon started the cleansing with his declaration of martial law. The people and I will finish it together,” Jun said Sunday.
He claims North Korea is behind the country’s democratic opposition and has promulgated unfounded claims of widespread election fraud — all echoed by Yoon and his lawyers in their defense of martial law.
Jun is already under police investigation in connection to the storming of a courthouse in January, with two of his followers arrested at the scene.
Police said they will mobilise all resources to avoid a repeat when the Constitutional Court rules.
‘FOUND HIS FLOCK’
Experts say the pastor — best known for defying COVID-gathering limitations during the pandemic — has tapped into a previously marginalized far-right constituency that has expanded in the wake of Yoon’s martial law declaration.
Around a quarter of South Koreans are Christians, and Jun has “found his flock among the elderly underclass of South Korean society,” said Kim Jin-ho, a theologian and analyst.
His audience are “those whose values have been shaped by anti-communism but who have found little resonance in the prosperity gospel of mainstream conservative Protestantism,” Kim said, adding that the pastor has a knack for provocation, much like “an online conspiracy theorist.”
As a result, Jun has raised an unlikely coalition behind Yoon — older Koreans steeped in Cold War ideology and a young, mostly male cohort fluent in an Internet culture scornful of politics.
“Pastor Jun speaks for the people,” said 37-year-old Park Jun-seo Saturday at a pro-Yoon rally.
“He is the only one brave enough to speak truth to power.”
Seo Hui-won, in his 60s, said Jun was “fighting on the frontlines” of a war against communism. If Yoon is formally removed by the court, it would trigger an election in 60 days. As they confront the real possibility of a coming poll, even mainstream conservative politicians are eagerly jumping on Jun’s bandwagon.
Key figures from Yoon’s People Power Party have taken to the stage at Jun’s previous rallies, crediting the pastor and his supporters for creating momentum for a conservative revival.
Their association with the firebrand pastor helps them “gain a base of loyal voters,” said Jeon Sang-jin, a sociology professor at Seoul’s Sogang University. But for the country, this means that the pastor’s conspiracy theories, “once relegated to the fringes, have been legitimized by Yoon, the PPP and the far-right media,” Jeon said.
If upheld by the court, Yoon would become the country’s second president to be formally impeached.
Police are on high alert after riots broke out over the removal of Park Geun-hye from office in 2017.
Experts warn that Yoon — who remains under criminal investigation — appears to be seeking to whip up his hardline supporters.
Yoon had no choice but to “sacrifice himself and declare martial law” to purge the “worms infesting the country’s executive, legislature and judiciary,” lawyer Seok Dong-hyun told the huge crowds at one of the pastor’s protests.
Such rhetoric seems intended to help Yoon retain political influence even if his impeachment is ultimately upheld, said Lim Ji-bong, a constitutional law professor at Sogang University.
“This kind of messaging may provoke his supporters to reject the Constitutional Court’s verdict and incite another violent incident like the courthouse riot last month,” Lim said.
“This will not only undermine the country’s judicial system, but destabilize South Korea’s political foundation at its very core.”
On a hillside overlooking Taichung are the remains of a village that never was. Half-formed houses abandoned by investors are slowly succumbing to the elements. Empty, save for the occasional explorer. Taiwan is full of these places. Factories, malls, hospitals, amusement parks, breweries, housing — all facing an unplanned but inevitable obsolescence. Urbex, short for urban exploration, is the practice of exploring and often photographing abandoned and derelict buildings. Many urban explorers choose not to disclose the locations of the sites, as a way of preserving the structures and preventing vandalism or looting. For artist and professor at NTNU and Taipei
March 10 to March 16 Although it failed to become popular, March of the Black Cats (烏貓進行曲) was the first Taiwanese record to have “pop song” printed on the label. Released in March 1929 under Eagle Records, a subsidiary of the Japanese-owned Columbia Records, the Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese) lyrics followed the traditional seven characters per verse of Taiwanese opera, but the instrumentation was Western, performed by Eagle’s in-house orchestra. The singer was entertainer Chiu-chan (秋蟾). In fact, a cover of a Xiamen folk song by Chiu-chan released around the same time, Plum Widow Missing Her Husband (雪梅思君), enjoyed more
Last week Elbridge Colby, US President Donald Trump’s nominee for under secretary of defense for policy, a key advisory position, said in his Senate confirmation hearing that Taiwan defense spending should be 10 percent of GDP “at least something in that ballpark, really focused on their defense.” He added: “So we need to properly incentivize them.” Much commentary focused on the 10 percent figure, and rightly so. Colby is not wrong in one respect — Taiwan does need to spend more. But the steady escalation in the proportion of GDP from 3 percent to 5 percent to 10 percent that advocates
From insomniacs to party-goers, doting couples, tired paramedics and Johannesburg’s golden youth, The Pantry, a petrol station doubling as a gourmet deli, has become unmissable on the nightlife scene of South Africa’s biggest city. Open 24 hours a day, the establishment which opened three years ago is a haven for revelers looking for a midnight snack to sober up after the bars and nightclubs close at 2am or 5am. “Believe me, we see it all here,” sighs a cashier. Before the curtains open on Johannesburg’s infamous party scene, the evening gets off to a gentle start. On a Friday at around 6pm,