This is the new face of Korean politics: “fandom politics.” Much like K-pop fans who rally behind their favourite idols with fierce loyalty and social media savvy, political supporters in Korea now behave like digital fan clubs.
And it’s not just a metaphor: the unprecedented decision by the Constitutional Court to uphold the impeachment of President Yoon Suk-yeol can reshape the future of South Korean democracy, but more importantly, it shows how South Korean politics has been transformed by a rising force once thought to belong solely to the world of K-pop: fandom.
Yoon’s impeachment cements his place as the second democratically elected leader in the country’s history to be removed from office—after Park Geun-hye in 2017. It followed a brief but alarming declaration of martial law on December 3, 2024—a move he claimed was necessary to “protect the nation from pro-North forces within.” Though the martial law lasted only six hours before being overridden by the National Assembly, the political shockwaves have been immense. Eleven days later, lawmakers passed the impeachment motion, citing his violation of democratic norms and abuse of executive power.
But this isn’t just a story about a fallen president. The Constitutional Court’s ruling has divided the nation. Supporters of the opposition Democratic Party of Korea flooded the streets in celebration, waving flags and blasting celebratory songs. Meanwhile, Yoon’s diehard followers gathered in parallel rallies, mourning the decision, chanting slogans, and vowing to keep fighting for their leader. These gatherings weren’t just political demonstrations—they looked and sounded like K-pop concerts, complete with coordinated colors, light sticks, YouTube livestreams, and fan chants.
When Politics Feels Like Pop Culture
Whether it’s Lee Jae-myung on the left or Yoon Suk-yeol on the right, their bases aren’t simply voters—they’re emotionally invested communities, often organized around influencers, YouTube channels, and encrypted group chats.
Henry Jenkins, a leading scholar of fandom studies at USC, has long argued that we are witnessing a convergence of celebrity culture and politics. “The global rise of autocratic and charismatic leaders and their deployment of media strategies once associated with celebrities,” Jenkins said, “may be producing new models of citizenship that share some aspects of fandom.” Korean political fandom exemplifies this fusion—where identity, affect, and community override rational debate.
In contrast to K-pop fandoms, which are often top-down and agency-managed, Korean political fandoms are grassroots and decentralized. Supporters form digital communities on YouTube, Facebook, and KakaoTalk, operating in echo chambers of shared memes, livestreams, and talking points. While female fans in their 20s and 30s gravitate toward Lee Jae-myung, Yoon’s fandom is male-dominated and skewed older—often men in their 50s and 60s. Despite demographic differences, both groups exhibit remarkable levels of online engagement, emotional attachment, and intolerance of dissent.
The Regional Ripple Effect
Taiwan, watching from across the sea, may find the Korean experience eerily familiar. As the island faces its own internal polarization between the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) and the Kuomintang (KMT), fandom-like political behavior is on the rise. Taiwanese supporters of political figures increasingly behave like digital fan clubs, rallying behind leaders with loyalty that often defies ideological consistency.
Like Korea, Taiwan’s digital infrastructure and vibrant civil society are becoming fertile grounds for politicized identity-building. Messaging apps and social media are replacing town halls and policy papers. And as in Korea, political debates are being shaped less by data and more by virality.
This transformation has security implications. In South Korea, traditional defense cooperation with the U.S. and Japan is already strained by domestic polarization. The United States, once the guarantor of regional stability, is increasingly wary of Korea’s unpredictability, reportedly excluding Seoul from deeper military cooperation in frameworks like the Quad, which now includes Japan, India, Australia—and not South Korea.
What the Fandom Age Means for Democracy
Korean political fandom has blurred the line between civic engagement and identity performance. Emotional investments in leaders—coupled with algorithm-driven media ecosystems—have eroded space for compromise and policy discussion. While fandoms can be empowering, they can also reinforce echo chambers and discourage dissent.
Henry Jenkins’s notion of “participatory culture” has often been hailed for democratizing media and politics. But in today’s hyperpolarized environment, it raises a harder question: What happens when participation becomes performance, and politics becomes a war of digital spectacles?
Whether political fandom deepens democracy or dismantles it may depend on how societies like Korea and Taiwan evolve. Will they find ways to channel passionate political energy into meaningful reform? Or will they be consumed by spectacle, division, and volatility?
For now, one thing is certain: in the age of political fandom, elections are no longer won solely in parliament—they’re fought in the feeds, forums, and fanbases of the digital age.