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| Korea’s martial-law troops, heavily armed with assault rifles, stormed the National Assembly, but Korean citizens came out holding light sticks and sang in unison. The dictator who imposed martial law is currently standing trial while being held in a detention center. |
Protests have been increasing in the United States lately. And American protests are showing ever more clearly a violent, confrontational edge. There was a time in Korea when student demonstrations were intense, and governments even formed “combat police” to suppress them; back then, Korean media often ran stories introducing “peaceful” protests in the U.S. or Europe with a kind of envy.
And yet, ironically, despite Korea’s past—when military dictatorships mobilized troops and violated citizens’ lives and property—Korean street protests have in some ways become even more peaceful, even when facing a martial-law crisis sparked by an unpopular president and a First Lady who was widely mocked and disparaged.
The level of peacefulness in Korean protests has evolved to the point where people wave light sticks and sing in unison—like they are at an idol concert. Martial-law troops carried assault rifles, special-forces machine guns meant for counter-terror operations, and even spoke in terms that did not shy away from missile threats. But Korean citizen-protesters came out into the streets with nothing but their bodies and a single light stick in hand.
A light stick is stronger than a gun.
“The light-stick is mightier than the rifle.”
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| “Criminal of the Year: The President.” “Die prettily—get out!” |
Scenes that used to belong to Korea’s 1980s campuses—answering guns with guns, answering tear gas with stones—now look like scenes from Los Angeles, New York, Arizona, and elsewhere in the United States. In the opposite direction from Korea, American protests have grown more extreme. That is understandable, given the rage ignited by reckless and irresponsible shootings that take civilian lives.
But precisely at times like these, it becomes the moment to learn from Korea’s protests. A march that pours out in fury, without plan or structure, does not easily grow into a sustained civic movement. There is a clear target that must be driven out, and they are criminals who have seized power. That is exactly why a long-term response becomes even more necessary.
A design is also needed—one that lifts people up to come out, and that lets them share a common feeling once they do. Korean protests have long had music, shaped through decades of protest culture. Many Korean pop musicians, even amid authoritarian pressure to “crack down on entertainers,” found ways to resist. Their natural instrument of resistance was music—songs.
Bands turned up the volume and played. Singers did not merely belt out lyrics; they spoke with the crowd, communicated, and held a conversation. They comforted, encouraged, turned hard time into laughter, and transformed it into the kind of joy people feel at a concert. In that space, the capacities that make a protest healthy, constructive, and sustainable grew stronger.
Long dictatorship, foolish policies, and the private greed of the powerful pushed citizens to evolve even the culture of protest itself. That is how regimes collapsed. A leader who seemed to blink blankly—like it was someone else’s business—even after young students were sent to their deaths, was removed from the presidency. And another figure, ridiculed for staging fake “commutes” while lurching through scandal day and night, was sent to prison.
What “removes” dictators and political criminals is not a blade, but a twinkling—pyororong—light stick.
It is not literal beheading like Charles I or Marie Antoinette. But the light sticks, the mass sing-alongs, and the stubborn endurance through Korea’s freezing winter cut through delusion and corruption more sharply than any axe or sword ever could.
Even now, Korea’s judiciary is acting like those who once bowed their heads in loyalty to Charles I and Antoinette right up to the moment their power collapsed. But just as their authority was neutralized the moment it fell, it too will eventually be brought under control.
In this sense, light sticks, songs, and silver-foil emergency blankets are stronger than any violent behavior by protesters. So, American citizens: there is no need to set your own arms on fire, or rush out in rage holding placards covered in threatening words. Light sticks can be bought. Even Amazon sells plenty of Korean light sticks. And K-pop can be sung—together.
What makes America great is citizens’ songs and their voices singing as one. And to Korea’s civil society: light sticks can be bought for American protesters, too.
Make America Song Great Again!
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