South Korean democracy recently escaped the imposition of martial law. The turnaround, argues Yuting Alina He, was helped by the livestreaming of events as they unfolded in Seoul. Livestreaming may not be new, but it has recently developed into a powerful instrument of political mobilisation and change
On 3 December 2024, during a freezing night in Seoul, 60-year-old parliamentarian Lee Jae-Myung set off at a run towards the country's parliament building. With a shaking smartphone, under dim lights, the leader of South Korea’s main opposition party livestreamed himself on YouTube climbing over the walls of the National Assembly, the entrance to which had been blocked by armed troops. His objective was to vote against President Yoon Suk Yeol’s declaration of martial law, and to defend South Korean democracy.
Lee's livestream attracted more than 2.75 million views on YouTube:
Soon after, clips of the video went viral on X.
Earlier, in an unannounced live television address, President Yoon had accused the opposition of ‘anti-state communist-related’ activities, and declared emergency martial law.
Martial law would have allowed the military to exercise wartime powers. It would have suspended essential democratic rights, including assembly, the forming of political parties, the right to peaceful protest, and freedom of the press. Deploying armed troops to block entrance to the National Assembly, President Yoon's declared aim was to ensure public safety and national security.
For many older Koreans, martial law evoked fearful memories of authoritarian military rule during the 1980s
For many older Koreans, martial law evoked fearful memories of the dark period of President Chun Doo-hwan's military rule during the 1980s.
The martial law crisis in Korea is certainly not the first political event to be livestreamed.
During the 1990–1991 Gulf War, for example, CNN offered 24-hour real-time news broadcasts. These live updates brought the spectacle of war into millions of households, enabling ordinary folk to engage in entertaining and bloodless participation.
Technological developments mean that anyone can now transmit video content across a network in real time, connecting people across vast geographical distances. Livestreaming enables digital witnessing which has proved invaluable for human rights organisations documenting violations. In Egypt and Syria, a study found that livestreaming is an effective means of civic engagement to bring about positive social change.
Even terrorists have used livestreaming to amplify the horror of their attacks. During the March 2019 attack on the Al-Noor Mosque in New Zealand, for example, perpetrators livestreamed the seventeen-minute atrocity on Facebook.
Via smartphone livestreams, the theatre of war, public protests, and robust parliamentary exchanges are all only inches from our face
The Covid-19 pandemic accelerated digitisation and algorithmic connectivity in a socially distanced world. During lockdown, livestreaming on platforms such as Instagram and TikTok rose sharply.
The near-universal ownership of smartphones and the rise of social media further enabled livestreaming in politics. Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 triggered the viral spread of videos recording bombing, evacuation and other military action, from the perspectives of ordinary people.
So, anyone, anywhere can start a livestream, and anyone can access it. The result is that the theatre of war, public protests, and robust parliamentary exchanges are now, via the magic of the smartphone, all only inches from our face.
President Yoon’s live broadcast took place in a formal room with professional lighting. Lee Jae-Myung, by contrast, held his phone up to his tired, concerned face in the dark, like a friend FaceTiming you during their evening walk.
In contrast with President Yoon's formal broadcast, Lee Jae-Myung's livestream felt like being FaceTimed by a friend
Lee's livestream criticised Yoon’s martial law as an illegal, unconstitutional act that betrayed South Korea. He urged citizens to join him at the National Assembly to protect the country's democracy. In the YouTube comments section, viewers interacted with supporters and detractors.
Lee's livestream was highly successful in mobilising the public:
Netizens left appreciative YouTube comments about Lee's values, courage, and action. Some expressed regret that they could only watch the livestream. Others answered the call to gather at the National Assembly, and on the streets of Seoul, in protest.
Among the members of parliament who managed to get into the National Assembly, 190 voted against the Presidential decree. Around six hours later, the South Korean cabinet lifted martial law.
As one netizen commented on YouTube, Lee Jae-Myung’s quick livestreaming saved the Republic of Korea. Livestreaming in politics is a powerful instrument of political mobilisation and change – and it is here to stay.
