단상斷想

In Korean society, the name 'Seoul National University Law School' has a meaning beyond simple academic background. It is the entrance to power, a guarantee of vested interests, and the starting line for those who virtually monopolize the authority to interpret and apply laws and institutions. The legal profession, especially the prosecution, is at its symbolic apex. They speak of 'justice' and claim to protect the public interest, but can the world they belong to truly represent our entire society? Law is ultimately for the people. However, the current prosecution organization, especially the elite prosecutor group centered on Seoul National University Law School graduates, mechanically enforces the law with a lack of empathy, the core of humanity. Trapped in the neutrality and formal legality of the law, they do not see 'people' but only 'clauses'. As a result, in Korean society, the law does not hear living voices and has become a system that ignores the pain of reality.

The starting point lies in education. The private education market, centered around Gangnam, has formed an entrance exam industry that peaks with 'correct answer education' focused on the College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT), GPA, and specifications. This education, in essence, excludes human growth aspects such as creativity, community consciousness, and emotional understanding, and only quantifies the ability to find the 'correct answer.' Seoul National University and the College of Law are spaces where the final victors of this system gather. However, the result of this education is harsh. Intellectuals, raised only through memorization and competition, become dull in their ability to empathize, and their imagination for the lives of others is also lacking. Society is increasingly dominated by functional efficiency and quantified judgment criteria. If the ultimate purpose of education is to enrich the inner self of human beings, then Korea's elite education has become a mechanism that rather suppresses and oppresses humanity.

When such an elite becomes a prosecutor, the problem becomes even more serious. A prosecutor is not just a legal technician who applies the law. He is an entity with the significant authority to judge an individual's life and execute the state's penal power. Nevertheless, many prosecutors act without even a minimal understanding of human beings throughout the entire process of investigation and prosecution. Prosecutors do not look at the context of statements, but evaluate only the form, time, and logical consistency rather than the authenticity of the words. The injustice and pain of the socially disadvantaged, or the fear and hesitation of the victim, are dismissed as 'ambiguity' in the written statement. Even when they see tears, they refine the written statement with cold eyes, and even when they hear sincerity, they classify it as 'circumstances.' This is not so much a lack of individual morality as it is a habitus created by the system itself, that is, a habitual sense ingrained in the body. The culture of the prosecution organization, which says, 'Emotions become variables,' and 'Look only at the facts,' eliminates the very existence of human beings and reduces them to legal objects only. The suspect becomes a case number before the law, the victim becomes a piece of evidence, and life remains only as text.

The bigger problem is that this structure is being justified. The phrase "according to the law" is used in Korean society as if it were synonymous with justice. However, how a law is applied absolutely depends on the discretion and choice of the prosecutor. Even in the same case, the decision to indict, the method of investigation, and even the information leaked to the media vary depending on which prosecutor is in charge. These choices can be political, based on organizational logic, or based on prejudice. Nevertheless, Korean prosecutors claim to be 'objective judges'. But the law is always subject to interpretation, and interpretation always involves a point of view. Whose experience is that perspective based on? In whose language is it being spoken? Faced with this question, the current prosecution organization is silencing the world it does not represent.

Another characteristic of these vested interest elites is excessive protection and solidarity for their own class. The background of 'Seoul National University Law School' acts as a cartel, and they form a close-knit network that embraces and protects each other. Mistakes or illegal acts they commit are treated leniently as mistakes, but the same acts by the socially disadvantaged are strictly punished as 'crimes'. This double standard is a factor that further deepens inequality in Korean society. A bigger problem is that they do not acknowledge their limitations. Intellectual elites believe that their judgment is objective and rational, and easily ignore the value of other perspectives and experiences. They think they are the best in society, so they have the answer to every problem. But true intelligence begins with humility, acknowledging one's ignorance, constantly learning, and listening to diverse voices.

We are now standing at a point of transition. If those who deal with the law do not truly understand humanity, the law becomes a tool of oppression rather than justice. And that oppression will increasingly subtly and with a more justified face, infiltrate our lives. Justice is not a concept that a particular class can monopolize. It is a practical process in which the entire community constantly participates, discusses, and reconstructs. The era in which one speaks as 'right' simply because they are from Seoul National University's Law School or have accumulated a long career in the prosecution service must end. What we need now is not knowledge but insight, not logic but empathy, and not power but responsibility. An elite should be someone who can reflect on themselves. They must be able to listen to the voices of others and open themselves to the community. Otherwise, they are merely successful individuals, not responsible citizens, nor qualified to uphold public justice. And now, our laws and society are being shaken by elites who have not learned empathy before justice.

We must now demand 'empathetic elites' rather than 'smart elites'. The walls of vested interests must be torn down, and people with diverse backgrounds and experiences must be able to participate in the process of creating and operating laws and institutions. And above all, those with knowledge and power must first acknowledge their privileges and learn the humility to reflect on them. This is because true justice does not come from legal provisions, but from recognizing and empathizing with the dignity of all members of society.