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Prime News delivers timely, accurate news and insights on global events, politics, business, and technology
When South Koreans took to the streets this month demanding the overthrow of their president, some found an unexpected outlet to express their fury: jokes and satire.
They raised banners and flags with whimsical messages about cats, sea otters and food. They waved signs joking that President Yoon Suk Yeol’s declaration of martial law had forced them from the comfort of their beds. Images of the flags were widely spread on social media.
The idea was to use humor to generate solidarity against Yoon, who has vowed to fight his impeachment for his unfortunate martial law decree on December 3. Some waved flags of non-existent groups such as the so-called Dumpling Association, a parody. from real groups such as unions, churches or student clubs.
“I just wanted to show that we were here as part of the people, even if we’re not actually part of a civic group,” said Kim Sae-rim, 28, who waved the dumpling group’s flag at a recent protest. she went with friends. Some groups referred to other local favorites like pizza and red bean pies.
Kwon Oh-hyouck, a veteran protester, said he had first seen such flags emerge during the 2016 and 2017 demonstrations that ultimately resulted in the ouster of President Park Geun-hye. Kwon said satire was part of the Korean protest spirit.
“People satirize serious situations, even when those in power come out with guns and knives,” he said. “They don’t feel intimidated.”
In the last month, protesters have featured a wide range of unorthodox groupings. Some called themselves homebodies. Others joined in as people suffering from motion sickness.
Lee Kihoon, a professor of modern Korean history at Yonsei University in Seoul, said he believed the flags at this month’s protests were an expression of the diversity of people driven by the president’s attempt to impose military rule.
“They’re trying to say, ‘Even for those of us who have nothing to do with political groups, this situation is unacceptable,'” he said. “’I’m not a member of any party or anything, but this is outrageous.’”
Some carried signs ridiculing Mr. Yoon, saying he had separated them from their pets at home and disrupted their routine of watching Korean dramas. One group called itself a retarded persons union, referring to the idea that the need to protest martial law had forced them to reschedule their appointments.
And, of course, there were animals, both real and fake.
South Koreans have shown that protests for serious causes (such as the impeachment of a president) can still have a welcoming, optimistic and carnivalesque atmosphere.
“I don’t know if the protesters realize it, but although they are angry, they have not become solemn, heavy or self-righteous,” Mr. Lee said. “The flags have had the effect of softening and relaxing the tension.”
On the day lawmakers voted to impeach Mr. Yoon, protesters who were K-pop fans brought glow sticks to rallies and danced to pop songs blaring from speakers. “Although this is a serious day,” said Lee Jung-min, a 31-year-old Big Bang fan, “we better enjoy it and keep our spirits high.”