Six hours that shook the country

Nineteen-year-old Hwang was watching protests in Georgia on Tuesday night’s news when the images on TV suddenly changed — the spotlight was on his country after South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol declared martial law.

“I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” said the 19-year-old student, who wanted to be identified only by his surname.

By Wednesday afternoon, he was among the protesters standing in front of the National Assembly, still stunned by what had happened the night before.

“It’s important that I’m here to show that we are against what Yoon tried to do,” Hwang said.

A little less than six hours later, Yoon had to backtrack on his shock announcement after lawmakers scrambled to block it.

But those were turbulent times, with protests, fear and uncertainty in the country that elected him.

On Tuesday night, at 23:00 local time (14:00 GMT) President Yoon, sitting in front of blue creaseless curtains, delivered a surprise address to the nation.

He said he was imposing martial law to protect the country from “anti-state” forces sympathetic to North Korea. The beleaguered leader is in crisis over a budget bill bogged down by corruption scandals and investigations into his cabinet members.

What followed was a sleepless night for Seoul.

After Yoon’s announcement, police lined the white metal gates outside the National Assembly building in the heart of Seoul, a building billed by the country’s tourism authorities as a “symbol of Korean democracy.”

The military later announced that all parliamentary activities had been suspended under martial law. But neither that nor the heavy security presence stopped the concerned and angry crowd from gathering in front of the assembly.

It’s easy to forget that South Korea – now a vibrant democracy – had its last brush with authoritarianism in the not too distant past – emerging from military rule in 1987. Martial law was last imposed in 1979.

It was “something I never expected in the 21st century in South Korea,” university student Jue Hong told the BBC World Service’s OS program from Seoul.

After Yoon’s shock announcement, opposition Democratic Party leader Lee Jae-myung hosted a live stream urging people to gather at the National Assembly and protest there.

He asked his fellow MLAs to move to the assembly to reject the order.

Hundreds of South Koreans responded.

A sea of ​​dark, puffy winter coats quickly rose against the lines of police in neon jackets, chanting “No to martial law.”

And as the vehicles arrived with army units, the crowd stopped them. A woman bravely slept between the wheels of a vehicle.

In contrast, the rest of Seoul put on a facade of normalcy. However, there is confusion in the city.

“The streets look normal, people here are definitely stunned,” John Nilsson-Wright, an associate professor at the University of Cambridge, told the BBC World Service from Seoul.

He said the policeman he spoke to was “a psychic like me”.

It was a sleepless night for some. “At first I was excited at the thought of not going to school today,” 15-year-old Kwon Hoo told the BBC in Seoul on Wednesday. “But then an overwhelming sense of dread settled in that kept me up all night.”

“No words can express how afraid I am that the same thing will happen to our people as North Korea,” a South Korean, who did not want to be named, told BBC OS.

At the same time, there was a news that special forces had been assigned to the Assembly House. Helicopters were heard circling the sky before landing on the Parliament roof.

Reporters milled about in the crowd outside the gates, clicking away with their cameras.

As concerns grew that the government could clamp down on the media, journalists in Seoul kept in touch with each other, exchanging tips on how to stay safe.

Ahn Gwi-ryong, 35, a spokesman for the opposition Democratic Party, was found facing soldiers at gunpoint. A video of the moment she pulled on the barrel of a soldier’s rifle went viral.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything intellectual or rational, like, ‘We’ve got to stop this, if we don’t stop this, there’s nothing else,'” he told the BBC.

“To be honest, I was a little scared when I first saw the martial law troops. ‘Is this something that could happen in 21st century Korea, especially in the National Assembly?’

“After such a storm last night, it was hard to come back to reality,” he recalls of the previous night. “I felt like I was witnessing the reversal of history.”

As Ahn faced the soldiers, the clock was ringing for opposition lawmakers, who rushed to the assembly to block the order. Once that happens, the president must withdraw it.

But first, MPs and their aides had to go inside. Some crawled through the legs of the security forces, others pushed and screamed at the armed soldiers; Many frantically climbed over fences and walls.

Lee Seong-yeon of the Democratic Party told the BBC that he had to scale a 1.5 m (4.9 ft) high fence to enter the building, but was stopped by police even after he showed identification proving he was a lawmaker.

Hong Qiwan, another opposition MP, said protesters helped him up the wall. He was asleep when Yoon made the announcement – when his wife woke him up, he ran to Parliament.

“Democracy is strong here,” Hong said. “The military must listen to us, listen to the constitution and not the president.”

The legislators who entered the building huddled together, slightly quieter than the crowd outside. Hastily, they barricaded the entrances: cushioned benches, long tables, sofas.

Some tried to push back the soldiers who entered the synagogue.

By 01:00 local time, National Assembly Speaker Woo Won-sik submitted a resolution requesting the lifting of martial law.

With that, two hours after Yoon’s shock announcement, the assembled 190 lawmakers, including some from Yoon’s own party, voted unanimously to block it.

After the vote, opposition leader Lee told reporters, “This is a crucial opportunity to break the vicious cycle and return to normal society.”

By 04:30, Yoon was back on TV in front of the same blue screen, announcing that he would withdraw martial law. But he said it would be authorized only when he assembled his cabinet enough to lift the order.

The announcement was met with cheers outside the assembly. In the wee hours of the morning, more people emerged from the building, behind barricades they had haphazardly erected.

With holes in the doors and broken windows, the imposing building already bears the scars of the night when South Koreans saved their democracy.

Schools, local businesses and banks opened as usual on Wednesday morning – and flights continued to land undisturbed in South Korea’s bustling capital.

But the public anger — and political fallout — was not spent.

As the sun rose on Wednesday, thousands called for Yoon’s resignation. The president is also facing impeachment proceedings.

“We are a strong democracy … but the Korean people want to be safe – President Yoon must resign or be impeached,” Democratic Party politician Yang Bu-nam told the BBC.