단상斷想

The gunshots that rang out in Gungjeong-dong on the night of October 26, 1979, signaled the formal end of the 18-year Yushin regime, but the essence of the power those shots targeted has continued, merely changing its form, to this day. The moment Kim Jae-gyu said he “shot the heart of Yushin with the heart of a beast,” he must have believed, at least, that his actions could prevent greater national sacrifice and open the door to liberal democracy. However, the power vacuum was swiftly filled by the new military regime, and thereafter, military dictatorship transitioned to prosecutorial power, and prosecutorial power to the institutional barriers of the judiciary. The ongoing refusal to re-nominate Supreme Court justices and the prolonged vacancies during President Lee Jae-myung’s tenure, the conflicts surrounding the remand of election law cases, and the controversies over business promotion expenses and personnel appointments are not merely friction between the administration and the judiciary. They are the latest examples of how the power structure, unpurged since liberation, obstructs attempts at reform by elected power. Unless this structure is broken, we will not be able to move beyond formal democracy to a truly sovereign nation. The gunshots of 10.26 have ceased, but the questions they left behind have not.

The continuity of the judiciary originates from the Joseon Government-General court system during the Japanese colonial period. After the Gi-yu Memorandum of 1909, Korea's judicial power was entrusted to Japan, and after passing through the Residency-General courts, the courts under the Joseon Government-General system were organized as one of the administrative departments directly under the Governor-General. The very concept of judicial independence was distorted and implanted as an auxiliary device for colonial rule. After liberation, as the Special Committee for Investigation of Anti-National Activities was neutralized by the obstruction of the Rhee Syngman regime and pro-Japanese police, judges and prosecutors from the Government-General formed the backbone of the nascent Republic of Korea's judiciary. They contributed to providing legal legitimacy to the Rhee Syngman dictatorship, the Park Chung-hee Yushin regime, and the Chun Doo-hwan new military regime. The controversy over judicial dealings during Chief Justice Yang Seung-tae's tenure and the current resistance to elected power under the Cho Hee-dae system can only be understood within this historical inertia.

The judiciary's conformist mindset and opportunistic nature are not a matter of individual morality, but rather the result of the concept of the rule of law, distorted by the colonial judicial system, not being rectified. Therefore, approaching the current judicial conflict solely through the dichotomy of 'defending judicial independence' versus 'political interference' misses the core of the issue. True judicial independence lies not in an unelected power reigning over popular sovereignty, but in genuinely guaranteeing the people's fundamental rights while also accepting democratic control. If this balance is not institutionally redesigned, the judiciary is highly likely to continue functioning as the last line of defense for vested interests. The difficulty in amending a law is not a technical problem, but because that law is a historical product that has long protected the interests of specific forces.

A deeper layer of this problem lies in the division of public consciousness and the distortion of historical memory. The perception that glorifies the economic growth of the Park Chung-hee era as an absolute value and ignores the oppressive aspects of the Yushin regime and military dictatorship still widely persists. This perception does not stem from individual ignorance, but is also a historical result of post-war Korean society forming its national identity within the Cold War order and dependence on foreign powers. As structural constraints such as division, the presence of USFK, and the unrecovered wartime operational control continue, internal power elites have justified their status under the pretexts of 'security' and 'stability.' Herein lies the contradiction of rejecting the pro-Japanese/pro-American frame while failing to structurally recognize the division and sovereign limitations imposed by foreign powers.

However, this cause is increasingly losing its power. With the fruits of economic growth being unequally distributed, the frustration of the younger generation deepening, and the acceleration of low birth rates and regional decline, it is difficult to justify current institutional resistance solely with past growth myths. At the same time, approaching this issue only with dismissive terms like 'brainwashed citizens' or 'pigs and dogs' also has its limits. The structural vested interests could be maintained because a significant number of citizens accepted that structure, or at least did not actively reject it. Awakening does not stem from hatred or contempt for a particular group. It is only possible by confronting the continuity of power as a fact and through institutional and civic practices that break that continuity. Even if the last generation to praise Park Chung-hee disappears, new forms of vested interests can build another line of defense. What is important is the ability to identify structures where the essence of power remains, even if its form changes, beyond emotional attachment to specific individuals.

So, how can we move forward?

First, we must publicly re-examine the historical origins of the judicial system and redesign the relationship between personnel authority and judicial independence. The repeated conflicts in the process of nominating Supreme Court justices indicate that the distribution of powers stipulated in the constitution does not align with the reality of power dynamics. We need to establish institutional mechanisms that allow elected power to exert a certain democratic influence on the composition of the judiciary, while strictly blocking external intervention in individual trials. Strengthening transparency and ensuring accountability must go hand in hand to prevent the recurrence of judicial misconduct.

Second, a reconstruction of historical education and public memory is necessary. The October 26th incident should not be taught merely as a power struggle or personal betrayal, but rather, the limitations of the Yushin regime, the subsequent emergence of the new military regime, and how its legacy continues to this day should be structurally educated. Now, with Kim Jae-gyu's retrial underway, is precisely the opportunity to publicly re-discuss the historical significance of that incident. Beyond the issues of torture and hasty procedures revealed during the trial, we must also examine how the institutional legacy left by the Yushin regime has persisted.

Third, the work of severing the link between the structure of reliance on foreign powers and internal vested interests must be carried out simultaneously. As long as autonomous decisions regarding the recovery of wartime operational control and the issue of US forces in Korea are not made, internal security discourse can continue to be used as a shield for vested interests. When the will for autonomous national operation is clearly expressed by both civil society and political forces, the way state institutions, including the judiciary, exercise power will also have room for change. The perspective that attributes the cause of division to foreign intervention and emphasizes national self-determination cannot be separated from the reform of the internal power structure. The attitude of blaming external factors while neglecting internal ones will ultimately only lead to further dependence and stagnation.

The heightened tension between the judiciary and the executive branch during the Lee Jae-myung administration paradoxically signifies an entry into the next stage of democratization. After procedural democracy has been somewhat established, the remaining task is to bring the institutional privileges of unelected power under national sovereignty. This task inevitably entails resistance. However, packaging that resistance solely as the abstract value of 'judicial independence,' or conversely, treating it only as a political stigma of 'remnants of rebellion,' will only delay problem-solving. What is important is to continue the debate centered on concrete facts and institutional outcomes. Questions such as whether the people's right to a fair trial is actually infringed when Supreme Court vacancies are prolonged, whether the remand of a specific case undermined political neutrality, or whether the execution of business promotion expenses violated legal standards should not be avoided. At the same time, one must not lose sight of how these individual issues are connected to the continuity of the larger power structure. The interpretation that conservative vested interests mobilize the military, prosecution, and judiciary to protect their domains is not a conspiracy theory. It is an extension of a history in which structural tensions between elected and unelected powers have repeatedly occurred.

The answer lies not merely in re-evaluating the past, but in the practical application of subordinating current institutions to popular sovereignty. This can only be achieved through a long process of consistently confronting historical facts, transforming institutional reforms into concrete civic demands, and embedding a vision of independent national governance within everyday political discourse. When this practice is realized, only then can 10·26 be remembered not as a tragic event, but as a starting point for completing unfinished democratization. If we do not confront the reason why the shadow of military dictatorship has extended through the prosecution and judiciary to this day, we will once again have to repeat the same questions. Truth is not the exclusive property of a specific group. It is revealed only through the ability to see structures and the will to change them.