On a chilly December evening last year, the streets of Yeouido in Seoul glowed with the light of thousands of sticks waved by citizens gathered for what would become a defining moment in South Korea’s political history. The National Candlelight March on December 14, 2024, was more than just a protest—it was the culmination of months of mounting outrage following then-President Yoon Suk-yeol’s declaration of unlawful emergency martial law. According to Kyunghyang Shinmun, many, like 24-year-old history major A, dropped everything to rush to the National Assembly, unable to stand by as a crisis of democracy unfolded before their eyes.
From that night through April 4, 2025, when the Constitutional Court upheld Yoon’s impeachment, citizens returned to public squares week after week. The movement, often referred to as the ‘revolution of light,’ distinguished itself from earlier protests not just in its scale but in its character. Women in their 20s and 30s were at the forefront, and the microphone was open—quite literally—to anyone willing to step up. Citizens representing a broad spectrum of minority identities—lesbian, woman, person with disabilities, worker—took the stage to voice demands that went far beyond the immediate political crisis.
Issues raised included the abolition of structural sexism, basic labor rights, the long-stalled Anti-Discrimination Act, mobility rights for persons with disabilities, opposition to the war in Palestine, and mourning for victims of industrial accidents and social disasters. The format of the rallies was as innovative as their demands: before each event, participants read aloud “Everyone’s Pledge for an Equal and Democratic Rally,” and even the lyrics of traditional songs were adapted to reflect inclusivity, according to Kyunghyang Shinmun.
For many, the experience was transformative. As A recalled, “At first, I went out to contribute to overcoming the crisis of democracy, but as I watched the voices of social minorities spread across the square, I came to hope this would be a chance for a world where minorities could live with dignity.” The sense of solidarity was palpable. “Speakers said they did not think our lives would change just by removing Yoon alone. What they wanted was for the hatred and discrimination represented by Yoon to disappear.”
Yet, a year later, the question hangs in the air: how much of what was demanded in those squares has been realized? The answer, for many participants, is disappointing. Despite the impeachment and a new administration, key demands—such as a rape-by-lack-of-consent law and the Anti-Discrimination Act—remain unaddressed. “I was very disappointed to see key pledges on gender-based violence pushed back during the presidential race and the lack of active policy even under the current government,” said Kim Su-yeon, a 19-year-old college student, in comments to Kyunghyang Shinmun. Another participant, a woman in her 50s, echoed the sentiment: “I hoped the voices of women who stood in the cold square would not be buried, yet even now, it is disappointing that not even a rape-by-lack-of-consent law or the Anti-Discrimination Act is being discussed in the National Assembly.”
The sense of betrayal is not limited to gender issues. Agendas that drew attention during the protests—such as high-altitude sit-ins by dismissed workers and mobility rights for persons with disabilities—have faded from the political spotlight. A, the history major and protester, noted that watching activists from the National Solidarity to Abolish Discrimination against Persons with Disabilities be violently blocked during recent subway protests was a stark reminder of how little had changed. “Yoon Suk-yeol was impeached, but it seems the world still does not listen to their voices, which was extremely shocking.”
Some worry that social conflict and hate have only worsened since the impeachment. “I am worried about the indiscriminate spread of anti-China sentiment and conspiracy theories,” said one participant in her 20s. The hope that the new administration would amplify the square’s inclusive voices has, for many, gone unfulfilled. Instead, there is a perception that women’s political power is being taken for granted, with the government ordering investigations into ‘reverse discrimination against men’ rather than prioritizing the issues that brought so many to the streets.
Political leaders, meanwhile, have sought to recognize the movement’s historical significance. On December 2, 2025, President Lee Jae-myung presided over a Cabinet meeting and reaffirmed his commitment to severe punishment for those who participated in the martial law incident, which he described as “intended to overthrow the system through state power,” according to Maeil Business Newspaper. However, Lee also acknowledged that some public officials may have acted under duress, ordering reduced punishment for those who voluntarily report their involvement.
The government’s Constitutional Respect for Government Innovation Task Force is investigating 49 central administrative agencies, focusing particularly on 12 ‘intensive inspection agencies’ such as the Joint Chiefs of Staff, prosecution, police, and several ministries. President Lee emphasized, “There may be cases where (the act of coordinating rebellion) was carried out depending on the system rather than voluntarily, so it is not just to make (the punishment of the client) harsh.”
In a rare move, President Lee is set to attend an outdoor event on December 3, 2025, hosted by the ‘Clearing the Insurrection and Social Reform Emergency Action Record Commemoration Committee’—a civic group event marking the first anniversary of the martial law crisis. Multiple political parties, including the Democratic Party of Korea and several progressive parties, will participate. Lee is expected to join with a light stick, the very symbol of the revolution he now seeks to honor. “We decided to go out because it would be meaningful in many ways to give thanks to the great Korean people directly on the spot,” said Kim Nam-joon, a spokesman for the president’s office.
There are also plans to present commendations to citizens who helped prevent the emergency martial law and protect constitutional order, ensuring that the “spirit of national sovereignty” is remembered. The Democratic Party, for its part, is pushing to designate December 3 as an official anniversary of the democratization movement, recognizing the revolution of light as a pivotal moment in South Korean history.
Despite these gestures, many remain skeptical. Critics argue that the political class has treated the demands of women and minorities as little more than a “cheering squad” rather than genuine partners in shaping policy. “Everyone acknowledges that women in their 20s and 30s were the biggest contributors to impeaching the previous administration, yet rather than expecting them to wield political power commensurate with that, there is a strong feeling they are seen only as a simple ‘cheering squad’,” said one participant in her 30s. Sawol, an activist in their 20s, added, “In protests, teens and those in their 20s often felt consumed not as the same citizens but as ‘special and commendable beings’.”
Ultimately, the failure to translate the square’s voices into concrete policy is seen as a failure of politics, not of citizens. As Kwon-Kim Hyun-young, director of the Institute for Women’s Realities, put it, “The reason politics did not accept the voice of collective resistance from the square is that there is no voice in politics now that represents the ‘worldview of the square’.” The revolution of light exposed both the fragility of South Korean democracy and the vital need for spaces where the voices of all citizens—especially those on the margins—can be heard.
The events of the past year have left indelible marks on South Korea’s political landscape, but the struggle to turn the energy of the square into lasting change continues. For many, the light sticks have dimmed, but the hope for a more inclusive democracy remains as urgent as ever.
