On February 26, 2026, the political and industrial future of South Chungcheong Province (Chungnam) and the city of Cheonan found themselves at the center of heated debate and bold proposals. Two separate but intertwined developments—a fierce political standoff over administrative integration and a pragmatic reckoning with industrial waste—highlighted the region’s ongoing struggle to balance growth, identity, and sustainability.
In a strongly worded statement, the People Power Party’s Chungnam Provincial Party leveled sharp criticism at the Democratic Party over the suspension of the much-anticipated Chungnam-Daejeon administrative integration special law. According to reporting by ATN News, the Chungnam branch of the People Power Party did not mince words: “Administrative integration is not a simple administrative district adjustment but a national restructuring that determines Chungnam’s future for the next 100 years.” The stakes, they argued, were nothing short of a “national overhaul,” with implications for generations to come.
At the heart of the controversy lies the special law that was meant to pave the way for merging Chungnam and Daejeon into a single administrative entity. The People Power Party accused the Democratic Party of pushing through a “hasty” version of the law—one that lacked crucial provisions for transferring financial resources and government authority. They took particular issue with the proposed name, “Daejeon Special City,” which they argued would erase Chungnam’s status and identity. “Forcibly using the abbreviation ‘Daejeon Special City’ erases Chungnam’s status and identity,” they declared, warning that such a move amounted to “erasing Chungnam” from the map.
The statement went further, accusing the Democratic Party of attempting to “sell out Chungnam” by pushing a superficial merger that left the province stripped of both its name and its powers. “Throwing away Chungnam’s name and merging only in form, without finances and authority, is the real betrayal,” they charged. The party’s Chungnam branch insisted that the true essence of administrative integration was “practical and permanent financial and authority transfers,” arguing that anything less would be an “empty shell.”
Backing up their position, the People Power Party pointed to a detailed integration plan crafted by Chungnam Governor Kim Tae-heum and the party itself over the past year and a half. This plan, they said, included an annual transfer of about 8.8 trillion won in national taxes, along with a clear roadmap for decentralizing central government powers. “This is an essential survival strategy for Chungnam’s self-reliance and growth,” the statement read. Without such measures, they warned, the region would be left behind in a rapidly changing national landscape.
In a final, pointed warning, the party urged the Democratic Party not to “commit a historical sin as traitors,” vowing that “the 2.2 million Chungnam residents will not forget the behavior of seven Democratic Party Chungnam lawmakers who lightly regarded Chungnam’s authority and pride.” The message was unmistakable: for many in Chungnam, the debate over integration is not just about bureaucratic lines on a map, but about the very soul and future of the province.
While the political drama played out at the provincial level, a different kind of reckoning was taking place in Cheonan, one of Chungnam’s key cities. On the same day, Hwang Jong-heon, a mayoral candidate from the People Power Party, held a field communication press conference at Seonghwan Livestock Station. His message was clear: Cheonan’s ambitious plans for a Future Mobility National Industrial Complex and a 500,000-strong Sci-City would be little more than empty slogans unless the city confronted its mounting industrial waste crisis.
According to News Free Zone, Hwang did not shy away from uncomfortable truths. “It is irresponsible administration to avoid waste disposal measures while planning industrial complexes,” he stated, identifying the landfill issue as a prerequisite for any meaningful development. Cheonan’s fifth industrial complex, covering 600,000 pyeong with a landfill volume of 800,000 cubic meters, has faced severe resident complaints since 2008—a saga now stretching into its 18th year. The sixth complex, though smaller at 300,000 pyeong and 440,000 cubic meters, faces even bleaker prospects, with many doubting it will ever be built due to similar concerns.
Hwang argued that the traditional model of on-site landfill within each industrial complex had reached its limits. “The formula of on-site landfill no longer works,” he declared. “A linked landfill is essential, but it must have residents’ consent and comply with legal standards.” The Sunam-ri industrial waste landfill in Dongnam-gu, Cheonan, has emerged as a promising alternative. Environmental impact assessments have shown that the facility meets legal standards for noise, vibration, ground stability, water quality, and air quality. The operating company, Cheonan Eco Park, has pledged scientific design, ongoing environmental monitoring, and open communication with residents.
What makes Sunam-ri particularly attractive, Hwang explained, is its location: far enough from the city center to mitigate concerns, yet strategically positioned to serve both Cheonan and other Chungnam industrial complexes. “Sunam-ri is not development for development’s sake, but infrastructure for industrial sustainability and environmental risk management,” he emphasized. “This is not a problem to avoid, but one that must be solved in the most rational way.”
The waste crisis is not unique to Cheonan. Nationwide, as of 2023, there were just 38 industrial waste landfill sites, with a total remaining capacity of about 20 million cubic meters. Given an annual waste generation of 3.12 million cubic meters, these sites will reach capacity in just six to seven years. Chungnam itself is home to 205 industrial complexes, but only nine have landfill facilities, most of which are delayed by resident complaints and feasibility issues.
The Ministry of Environment has recognized the urgency, announcing plans to strengthen safety and proactively secure private landfill sites by 2025. Other regions, such as Pyeongtaek’s Godeok International Plan District and Ulsan, have faced similar dilemmas—initially insisting on self-contained solutions, only to be forced into external waste handling after public opposition and administrative hurdles. In Ulsan’s case, the lack of local landfill capacity has led to waste being shipped to Dangjin, Chungnam, with industry leaders warning that “without landfills, factories will stop.”
Both the political and industrial debates unfolding in Chungnam reflect deeper questions about the province’s future. Can it maintain its identity and autonomy in the face of administrative integration? Will its industrial ambitions be derailed by environmental realities, or can new models of waste management provide a sustainable path forward?
For now, the answers remain uncertain. But as the People Power Party and its candidates continue to press their case—whether in the halls of government or the fields of Cheonan—they are forcing both politicians and the public to confront the tough choices that will shape Chungnam for decades to come.