On January 13, 2026, in a packed courtroom at the Seoul Central District Court, South Korean prosecutors made a historic and dramatic demand: the death penalty for former President Yoon Suk Yeol. The charge? Rebellion, stemming from his controversial attempt to impose a military emergency on December 3, 2024—a move that sent shockwaves through the nation and reignited debates about the fragility of democracy in one of Asia’s most robust constitutional systems.
The prosecution’s request, led by special prosecutor Cho Eun-suk, capped an 11-hour-long trial session. As reported by INFORMASI.COM and Jernih, the core of the accusation is that Yoon, while still in office, declared a state of emergency in a bid to counter what he described as threats from opposition parties. However, prosecutors argued this was a thinly veiled self-coup intended to consolidate power and bypass the National Assembly. In the words of prosecutor Cho, “Yoon claimed to have imposed a military emergency to protect liberal democracy, but this unconstitutional and illegal decree undermined the functions of the National Assembly and the Election Commission, in effect destroying the liberal constitutional democratic order.”
Prosecutors, as cited by Jernih, were unsparing in their assessment: “The greatest victims of the rebellion in this case are the people of this country. There are no mitigating circumstances to consider in sentencing, and instead, a heavy punishment must be imposed.” The courtroom, according to Liputan6.com, was tense as Yoon’s supporters erupted in shouts, while the former president himself managed only a thin smile from the defendant’s chair.
Yoon’s declaration of emergency, which he justified as a necessary response to what he saw as the opposition’s obstruction of government, was swiftly revoked by the National Assembly within hours. The Supreme Court soon after declared the decree unconstitutional, and the political fallout was immediate and severe. Protesters and lawmakers stormed the parliament building, forcing a vote to annul Yoon’s actions. By April 2025, the Constitutional Court had impeached and officially removed Yoon from the presidency. In a first for South Korean history, he was detained in January 2025—becoming the only president to be arrested while still in office or after impeachment.
The prosecution painted a damning picture of Yoon’s intent. Special prosecutor Park Eok-su alleged that Yoon’s true goal was to stay in power by illegally seizing control of both the judiciary and the legislature. The prosecution further accused Yoon of deploying military and police forces to physically block the National Assembly, preventing lawmakers from overturning his emergency decree, and ordering the arrest of key political leaders across party lines. These actions, prosecutors said, constituted a grave violation of the constitutional order and a direct threat to South Korea’s hard-won democracy.
Yoon, however, has consistently denied any wrongdoing. During his final statement, which lasted about 90 minutes, he insisted that the emergency declaration was not an act of military dictatorship but a constitutional exercise of presidential power. “The exercise of constitutional emergency rights by a president cannot be categorized as rebellion,” Yoon argued, as quoted by Liputan6.com. He described the investigation and charges against him as “chaotic,” “manipulated,” and “distorted,” maintaining that his intent was to protect freedom and sovereignty, not to undermine democracy.
Yoon’s defense has done little to sway public opinion or lessen the severity of the prosecution’s demands. According to INFORMASI.COM, the trial and its aftermath have sparked widespread debate in South Korea and abroad about the balance of executive power, the role of the military, and the resilience of democratic institutions in the face of internal threats. The prosecution’s closing statement was unequivocal: “Yoon’s actions have caused serious violations of the constitutional and democratic order. The people, who have defended democracy through sacrifice against dictatorship and authoritarianism, are the greatest victims.”
Yoon is not alone in facing harsh legal consequences. On the same day, prosecutors also sought life imprisonment for former Defense Minister Kim Yong-hyun, who was accused of playing a key role in the failed emergency declaration, and lengthy prison sentences for several high-ranking police and military officials. These moves underscore the prosecution’s determination to hold all responsible parties to account and to send a clear message about the inviolability of South Korea’s constitutional order.
While the death penalty remains a legal option for crimes like rebellion, its actual implementation is highly improbable. As INFORMASI.COM and Jernih both note, South Korea has not executed a prisoner since December 1997, and the country is widely regarded as maintaining a de facto moratorium on capital punishment. Amnesty International, cited by Liputan6.com, has repeatedly highlighted South Korea’s unusual position: the death penalty is on the books, but executions have ceased for nearly three decades.
Yoon’s legal troubles extend beyond the rebellion trial. He faces a slew of additional charges, including abuse of power, forgery of official documents, and provocative acts against North Korea—such as allegedly ordering drone flights over the North to justify his emergency declaration. According to Jernih, a separate verdict is expected soon in a case related to obstruction of justice, which could carry a ten-year prison sentence.
The verdict in the rebellion case is scheduled for February 19, 2026. Until then, the nation waits—and watches. President Lee Jae Myung, who succeeded Yoon after his removal, issued a measured statement: “We trust that the judiciary will decide … according to the law, principles, and public standards.”
Should Yoon be found guilty, he would become the third South Korean president convicted of rebellion, following two former military leaders punished for their roles in the 1979 coup. Yet, as CNBC Indonesia reported on January 14, 2026, even a death sentence may prove symbolic, given the country’s longstanding halt to executions.
The Yoon case has exposed deep rifts in South Korean society over the limits of executive power and the meaning of constitutional democracy. For some, the prosecution’s aggressive stance is a necessary defense of hard-won freedoms. For others, the spectacle of a former president in the dock raises uncomfortable questions about political vendettas and the potential for judicial overreach. The coming verdict will not only decide Yoon’s fate but will serve as a litmus test for the strength and maturity of South Korea’s democracy.
As the world looks on, South Korea stands at a crossroads, grappling with its past, its laws, and the very definition of justice in a modern democracy.
