What South Korea’s Election Signified
The gender and geopolitics of Lee Jae-myung’s victory.
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The South Korean presidential election, held on June 3, was anything but routine. It followed an unprecedented domestic crisis sparked by then-president Yoon Suk-yeol’s attempt to declare martial law on December 3, 2024. The National Assembly passed an impeachment motion against Yoon on December 14, and the Constitutional Court upheld it on April 4. In accordance with South Korean law, the presidential election was held within 60 days. The resulting contest was a test not only of political leadership but of democratic resilience itself.
The election ended with the victory of the liberal Lee Jae-myung (Democratic Party), who secured 49% of the vote, defeating conservative rival Kim Moon-soo (People Power Party, the same party to which Yoon belonged), who earned 41%, and right-wing third-party candidate Lee Jun-seok, who earned 8%. Voter turnout was historically high at 79%, reflecting the urgency with which the public viewed the situation.
The outcome restored a measure of constitutional legitimacy to the government—but the electoral map revealed a society riven by generational, regional, and gender divisions. While Lee’s victory may have prevented democratic backsliding, it did not resolve the deeper structural tensions that have emerged in South Korea’s political landscape.
Voting geography reflected both familiar patterns and subtle realignments. Lee won decisively in the liberal strongholds of Gwangju and the Jeolla provinces, while Kim dominated the conservative bastions of Daegu and North Gyeongsang. However, Lee’s advantage in key swing regions—particularly Seoul and the Chungcheong provinces—proved decisive. This shift suggests that a portion of centrist voters, while not necessarily ideologically aligned with Lee, rejected the People Power Party’s failure to distance itself from Yoon’s unconstitutional actions.
Yet the more striking cleavages emerged not across regions, but across age and gender, as was observed previously in the 2022 presidential election. Exit polls conducted by Korea’s major broadcasters revealed a pronounced generational divide: voters in their 40s and 50s strongly supported President Lee, while men in their 20s and early 30s disproportionately favored Kim or Lee Jun-seok. Among women in their 20s and 30s, however, President Lee held a commanding lead, nearing 60%.
Gender polarization was even more evident in data from Seoul National University (SNU). A survey of undergraduates conducted two weeks before the election showed that 49.5% of male students supported the right-wing Lee Jun-seok, compared to just 8.5% of female students. In contrast, 43.5% of female students supported the liberal President Lee. These figures reflect a fundamental fracture in how different demographics perceive the state, politics, and each other.
Understanding the causes of this polarization is crucial. For young men, especially those facing a hypercompetitive labor market and stagnant wages, progressive politics are often perceived as exclusionary or even hostile. Policies aimed at gender equity, while normatively justified, have become flashpoints of resentment for those who feel they have been left behind. Lee Jun-seok’s success among this group was not accidental; his campaign tapped into frustrations with feminism, distrust in traditional parties, and anxieties over social mobility. His message—meritocratic, confrontational, and native to the digital world—resonated with those who feel voiceless in South Korea’s institutional politics.
Meanwhile, young women—many of whom were deeply alarmed by Yoon’s rollback of gender equality initiatives—rallied around President Lee as a bulwark against perceived regression. Their support was not necessarily rooted in enthusiasm for his politics, but rather in fear of what a return to hardline conservatism could mean for their rights and status.
What emerges is a gendered schism, one that cuts deeply through universities, workplaces, and households.
While democratic procedures were followed, the health of Korean democracy remains in question. Data from the East Asia Institute shows that support for democratic values has steadily increased over the past two decades. In 2025, 76% of respondents agreed that democracy is preferable to any other system of government—up from just 43% in 2006.
However, satisfaction with the way South Korea’s democracy works falls short of a majority, at 46%. Only 46% of South Koreans rate the country’s political system as “democratic,” while 33% say it is “not democratic,” an increase from 22% in 2021. Moreover, 16% of South Koreans still say that dictatorship is better than democracy in some circumstances, and that number remains at 15% even among people in their 20s. This duality—normative support but practical disillusionment—creates fertile ground for populism.
President Lee is a politician unusually attuned to this dynamic. A populist by instinct, he has long framed himself as a fighter for ordinary citizens against the elite. This orientation may offer short-term gains, especially as the public seeks responsive governance after the Yoon debacle. But it also raises concerns about policy coherence. Lee’s prior record suggests a willingness to pivot across ideological lines if politically expedient. Such flexibility may appeal to voters, but over time it risks generating contradictory policies and institutional instability.
Nowhere will this tension be more apparent than in foreign policy. President Lee has declared his intention to pursue “pragmatic diplomacy,” emphasizing national interest over ideological alignment. During his presidency, Yoon Suk-yeol made notable strides in improving relations with Japan, restoring high-level dialogue, and reinforcing trilateral security cooperation with the United States. At the time of the election, there were concerns that Lee might reverse this momentum. However, despite long-standing criticism of Japan among his base, the Lee administration has so far maintained a stable posture toward Tokyo—signaling continuity rather than rupture.
In addition, Lee has pledged to maintain a robust alliance with the United States and rebuild neighborly friendship with China and Russia. At first glance, this approach seems sensible for a middle power surrounded by great power rivalry.
But pragmatism as rhetoric may not withstand the structural realities of the international order in 2025.
South Korea’s strategic environment has become more perilous. Russia’s deepening military cooperation with North Korea has already resulted in arms transfers and joint statements, while Pyongyang’s nuclear arsenal continues to grow unchecked. China is increasing pressure on Taiwan and asserting greater influence in the South and East China Seas. In the Middle East, tensions remain. Perhaps most consequentially, Donald Trump’s return to the U.S. presidency has ushered in an aggressively transactional foreign policy. His administration has already signaled its intent to demand higher defense burden-sharing from allies, reduce support for NATO, and reassess U.S. troop deployments abroad. In this context, fence-sitting may no longer be viable.
Lee’s promise of pragmatic diplomacy may appeal to domestic voters who are weary of ideological entanglements. But on the international stage, it is increasingly untenable. Allies expect commitments. Adversaries exploit hesitation. For South Korea, a nation that relies on the credibility of its security alliance and economic partnerships, clarity has strategic value. Engagement with authoritarian states may still be necessary in practical terms, but aligning more closely with liberal democracies—through the G7, NATO partnerships, and Indo-Pacific coalitions—offers a firmer foundation for both national security and global credibility.
Indeed, the liberal democratic order—under pressure from within and without—requires reinforcement from middle powers like South Korea. Cooperation in areas such as critical mineral supply chains, digital governance, and clean energy innovation is not merely technical; it is strategic. The Lee administration has a chance to position South Korea not only as a nimble actor but as a principled stakeholder in a values-based network. That requires moving beyond rhetorical pragmatism toward policy clarity.
The coming months will test the coherence of President Lee’s leadership. His domestic popularity may push him toward short-term appeasement of competing interests, while international pressures demand long-term alignment. Whether he can bridge this gap remains uncertain. The path forward requires vision, consistency, and above all, the courage to govern with principle in a moment of global and domestic flux.
Eunjung Lim is a Professor in the Division of International Studies at Kongju National University.
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Hmmm. A society divided across gender lines. Where one party pushes policies for “equity” while completely disfavoring the other (toxic) half of the population and creating deep resentment while becoming the bright line between interpersonal relationships that determines romance, marriage, children, and replacement rates sufficient to sustain democratic societies, social safety nets, and national defense.
And, oh ya, the ever-opportunistic, amoral, predatory demagogue who sees the clear path to capitalize on all that and wins resentful male support further deepening the problem. Hmmm. What could POSSIBLY be wrong with such an identity-first, the-personal-is-political approach to democracy? 🤔🤔🤔
I’m persuaded 😎