The South Korea crisis has rewritten the fragile rules governing the entire Indo-Pacific

Those who follow developments on the Korean peninsula and that part of Asia will know that the crisis that erupted in the middle of Europe’s Tuesday afternoon did not come out of nowhere.

It was a slow-burn consequence of the South Korean elections in April that produced a parliament in opposition to the president, then in power for two and a half years, effectively stymying the intentions of both parties.

At the micro level, there was a clutch of scandals relating to the president’s wife that were already weakening her husband’s position. Then, at the macro level, South Korea’s position beside an unpredictable North Korea apparently cosying up to Russia. Add these two elements together and it is possible to see, in retrospect, that the components of an emergency were already in place.

For most of the world, though – its Western parts, in particular – this was indeed a crisis that came out of nowhere for the simple reason that South Korea was seen as an admirably still point in both a difficult region and a frantically turning world. With shooting conflicts showing little sign of ending in Ukraine and the Middle East, the new rebel advance in Syria, and the continuing horrors of Sudan’s civil war, there was plenty more for the world to worry about than any gathering political tensions inside South Korea.

Its democracy has been both functional and stable since the 1980s. It was living peaceably beside the erratic and sometimes panic-stricken North, not allowing itself to be provoked. The Korean Demilitarised Zone separating the two – which could be one of the highest points of tension in the world – is, give or take a very few isolated incidents, a bizarre haven of calm.

South Korea has built itself into a modern industrial economy with cars and consumer goods at the forefront. More recently, it has built up a reputation for culture – from cinema to contemporary art and K-pop – that has put it on the global tourist map and given it considerable soft power. It was one of the first countries to suffer the effects of the pandemic and one of the few to handle it with comparative success after some initial missteps.

Given that background, it is hardly surprising that news of the president’s declaration of martial law sped around the world as it did, emitting shock waves in all directions. What happened next, and the further ramifications, offer reasons for both relief and alarm.

The relief comes from the political and public responses to the president’s declaration of martial law: immediate and unconditional resistance. Crowds rushed to parliament; opposition MPs risked their lives defying the troops that had been deployed to enforce the presidential order. They convened in an emergency session and voted to rescind the order which they were within their powers to do.

The military heeded the new situation – or, in other words, the high command abided by the constitution – and within hours, the president had cancelled his decree. Order on the streets and as enshrined in the constitution had been restored.

The alarm stems from three factors. First, the political situation is, at best, back to the stalemate it was at before, with no guarantee that a frustrated president will not panic as he appears to have done earlier this week, and an awareness on the part of the South Korean and the world’s public that this has happened and could happen again. At worst, the country is in for a time of extended political, and perhaps civil, turmoil, as an impeachment vote is likely, with a possible trial to follow.

Second, the martial law declaration appears to reflect a degree of panic on the part of the president vis a vis the intentions of North Korea. He may well be concerned about the North’s recent closer alignment with Russia, but it is beyond dangerous for people at that level of national leadership to be susceptible to panic.

Third, South Korea occupies a key position in the West’s plans to defend its security in the face of an increasingly powerful China. It is scant consolation that China’s economy is currently suffering a downturn; not only is the development of its military, especially naval, capability unlikely to be affected, but domestic difficulties can drive an insecure regime to see threats and take risks.

It is reported that the United States, which has 24,000 troops and its biggest Pacific base in South Korea and conducts state-of-the-art military exercises there every year, was as much in the dark about President Yoon Suk Yeol’s decision to declare martial law as everyone else. The US is the chief guarantor of South Korea’s defence against the perceived threat from the North. South Korea’s position makes it a crucial element in any US action to keep the northern Pacific sea lanes open for commerce or to defend the independence of Taiwan.

If South Korea can no longer be relied upon as a haven of political stability and a well-prepared ally, then that is a piece of the US security jigsaw for the Pacific that is less solid than before – or one that could even go missing. That punches quite a big hole in the US, and increasingly Nato, strategy towards what is termed the Indo-Pacific.

For the time being, that hole might be more psychological than practical in that the sudden – and it is to be hoped, brief – South Korean crisis has proven short-lived. But what happened cannot but sow doubts about South Korea in the future and cause, at the very least, some anxious reviews in Washington and at Nato HQ in Brussels.

With so many conflicts elsewhere in the world, the last thing Western leaders, or indeed a new US president needs, is another cause for uncertainty in a region that has been largely quiescent in recent years, give or take an unpredicted outburst from North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong Un. The events of this week mean that South Korea is unlikely to be taken for granted as an ally for a while to come.