June 3 election: Minjoo’s Pyrrhic Victory

Why it matters: Although the ruling Minjoo party secured a sweeping numerical victory in the local elections, its critical failure to capture Seoul and its growing alienation of young voters reveal deep systemic vulnerabilities.

The Sound of Silence: Mr Lee’s Selective Outrage

Departing from his initial modesty, President Lee has taken to tweeting with sheer emotional intensity on a dizzying array of topics—ranging from Israel’s alleged human rights violations to mundane apartment maintenance fees.

In a curiously unintended effect, this scattergun approach only highlights what he chooses to omit. Following his condemnation of Israel’s alleged crimes against humanity, critics were quick to note his silence on North Korea’s abysmal human rights record. For a leader who boasted about progress against scam centers in Cambodia—using crude language that raised more than a few eyebrows—his silence regarding the Iranian attack on a Korean ship in the Strait of Hormuz was deafening.

A Hollow Victory

Overall, the ruling Minjoo party crushed the PPP in the June 3rd local elections, securing 12 out of 16 major mayoral and gubernatorial seats. Yet Mr Lee has uttered not a single word about the outcome on social media. Nobody seriously believes he is suddenly practicing electoral neutrality; even a prominent leftist NGO recently criticized his frequent regional tours as a violation of that very principle. The reality is, he likely isn’t enjoying this victory.

Losing the crown jewel of Seoul was a critical blow, doubly so because Mr Lee practically handpicked the Minjoo candidate himself. In the run-up to the primary, it was Mr Lee who tweeted a glowing endorsement of Jung Won-oh—a three-term district mayor who was still a political lightweight. Buoyed by presidential backing, Mr Jung effortlessly secured the party nomination.

The incumbent, Oh Se-hoon, has hardly been popular—though who is these days? Long before the election, I was certain Minjoo would reclaim Seoul; the stars seemed aligned. Both the President and the party boast high approval ratings, and Mr Jung came armed with a solid local narrative of district-level achievements.

The ballot boxes, however, told a very different story. Mr Lee’s vitriolic social media habits appear to have played a distinct role in Mr Jung’s defeat, despite the otherwise favorable backdrop. While his rage-posting over Starbucks Korea’s PR gaffe may have fired up the Minjoo base (and dented a private company’s revenues), it only reminded moderate voters of his highly selective fury.

Even his get-out-the-vote messaging was distinctly divisive: he declared that abstaining equates to “taking the side of them who harm your life and your community,” a classic maneuver from a zealous believer in “us-versus-them” politics.

The people have indeed spoken: while Minjoo captured a larger sheer volume of offices, they lost the true prizes, including the Seoul mayoralty and a key Assembly by-election in Busan. Ultimately, voters refused to vindicate a conservative party still reeling from President Yoon’s martial law fiasco, but they were equally determined to pump the brakes on the self-righteousness and divide-mongering of Mr Lee and Minjoo.

The Denial Trap: Lessons Not Learned

There are striking parallels here to the 2024 Indian general elections. In both cases, conventional wisdom anticipated massive victories for the ruling parties. The actual results delivered sharp rebukes instead, even if the blow landed harder in India than in Korea. The collective message from the electorate was unambiguous: they are deeply wary of the ruling party’s trajectory. A particularly notable shift in the Korean context was the sharply souring sentiment of young female voters toward Minjoo.

While India’s BJP ruthlessly recalibrated its campaign machine to secure subsequent absolute victories, I do not expect the same prognosis for Minjoo. The party appears completely oblivious to its own strategic failure. Many within the ranks seem convinced that merely swapping in better candidates will solve their woes. Tellingly, some have already resorted to bashing the young voters who abandoned them, accusing them of drifting “far-right.” What they fail to grasp is that in the eyes of younger voters, Minjoo has simply become the new establishment—every bit as corrupt and self-serving on housing and job issues as the conservatives they replaced.

Mr Lee’s post-election messaging nips any hope for change squarely in the bud. During his Memorial Day address, he declared that “punishing those who betrayed the community is also an important duty,” pivoting to highlight his party’s new legislation designed to seize wealth accumulated by pro-Japan collaborators during the colonial era. He is evidently relapsing into his old politics of division. The sooner Mr Lee realizes that his polarizing rhetoric consistently backfires, the better off his party will be.

The Legal Shield: Pressing Ahead Despite the Public

Consequently, the ruling party finds itself thoroughly on the defensive. The good news for Minjoo is the empty electoral calendar; with the next general election not due until April 2028, they have ample time to catch their breath and regroup after August’s leadership contest.

The bad news, predictably, comes from within.

It appears Mr Lee and Minjoo had fully intended to ram through the cancellation of Mr Lee’s own prosecutions on the heels of a successful election. In a cabinet meeting just a day prior to the vote, Mr Lee brazenly told the acting prosecutor general—whose presence wasn’t even required, given the prosecution’s mandate to remain politically neutral—that the prosecution should apologize for and cancel wrongly prosecuted cases.

From a purely tactical standpoint, it would benefit Minjoo to bury these prosecutions as quickly as possible to distance the inevitable fallout from the upcoming elections. However, public sentiment is currently not amiable. As we speak, thousands of citizens are protesting a ballot shortage fiasco in one of the capital’s wealthiest districts. One can only imagine what they would make of a president actively trying to shake off the rule of law.

Do not, however, expect public outrage to deter Mr Lee. Throughout his political career, he has consistently opted for cutting corners: a total lack of political justification never stopped him from parachuting into a vacant Assembly seat for a district with which he had zero ties.

Now occupying the highest office in the country, his sole genuine fear is the legal reckoning waiting at the end of his term. Sitting still guarantees a retirement spent in ruins; taking action risks sparking a massive public backlash. It is a remarkably tricky tightrope, where even the slightest misstep risks springing a fatal Oedipus trap.