Could We Say the Same Thing If the Subject Changed?

When the first question we ask about a political controversy is not “what happened?” but “who did it?”, the public sphere may already be exhausted.

The controversy around Korea’s National Election Commission has again revealed how quickly responses divide along partisan lines. To some, it appears to be a grave issue that touches the foundation of democracy. To others, it looks like another political offensive manufactured by the opposing camp. Of course, the actual judgment must be made through verified facts, procedure, and responsibility. But apart from that final judgment, this event leaves one unavoidable question.

This is not a device for attacking one particular party. It is closer to a minimum test of conscience: is my judgment grounded in principle, or am I being carried by the instincts of my own camp?

Camp Logic Makes Judgment Faster, Not Fairer

Political camps give people a sense of stability. They seem to sort out complex issues quickly, telling us which side is right and which side is wrong without requiring careful discernment. That convenience is precisely why camp logic is dangerous. It removes the burden of thinking, but it also weakens the muscles of judgment.

When politicians become absorbed only in the interests of their own side, public responsibility disappears. Power stops being a tool for the whole public and becomes a device for the survival and reward of one’s own faction. The more serious problem arises when supporters justify that distortion instead of checking it. If the other side does it, it is a national scandal; if my side does it, it is unfortunate self-defense.

This habit belongs neither only to conservatives nor only to progressives. Both sides in Korean politics have repeated it. To be generous toward one’s own side and severe toward the opponent is, in the end, to declare that belonging matters more than truth.

“They Would Have Done the Same” Is Not Enough

There is also a caution here. The question “wouldn’t the other camp have been furious if the roles were reversed?” can be a useful tool for self-examination. But it cannot replace the factual evaluation of the present case.

Pointing out hypocrisy and confirming what actually happened are different tasks. Double standards must be criticized. At the same time, the event itself must be examined independently. One without the other is not enough. If there is only criticism of hypocrisy without verification, politics becomes cynicism. If there is only technical verification while the injustice of standards is ignored, politics becomes a technical excuse.

Standards Must Become Stricter Before Disaster

This question is not limited to the National Election Commission or to any particular party. It matters even more before disasters in which many lives are lost: the Sewol ferry disaster, the Itaewon crowd crush, and the Jeju Air crash at Muan International Airport. Such tragedies should not be consumed as slogans for one government or one camp. First there must be mourning; then there must be careful examination of structural causes, administrative responsibility, field judgment, and institutional failure.

When the Sewol ferry sank on 16 April 2014, Korean society asked about rescue failure and state responsibility. When the Itaewon crowd crush took place on 29 October 2022, the questions concerned safety management, prior warning, and command on the ground. When a Jeju Air passenger aircraft crashed at Muan International Airport on 29 December 2024, the work of judgment likewise required careful examination of all verifiable elements: crew decisions, aircraft condition, airport facilities, air traffic control, possible bird strike, and structures near the runway end.

Yet even before disaster, camp logic often begins too quickly. A tragedy under a government we dislike becomes proof of the state’s guilt; a tragedy under a government we support is easily reduced to inevitability or a field-level mistake. The other camp’s criticism is dismissed as political agitation, while our camp’s criticism is framed as righteous accountability. But when lives have been lost, a standard that changes by camp is not mourning. It is closer to a fight over political ownership of grief.

Disasters always require accountability. But responsibility should not be determined by the volume of anger. It should be examined through verified facts, institutional function, foreseeability, preventability, command structure, and the adequacy of the response afterward. Whether Sewol, Itaewon, or Muan, the first question should not be which government was in office. The questions should be: what could have been known, what could have been prevented, who held authority, whether that authority was exercised properly, and what must change so that the same loss is not repeated.

Politics Is Not Sports

We often consume politics like sports. We rejoice when our team wins and feel satisfied when the opposing team makes a mistake. But democracy is not a cheering contest. A good citizen may support a party close to their convictions. But if a referee’s decision is plainly wrong and one still defends it only because it benefits one’s own team, that person no longer loves the fairness of the game; they are absorbed only in the team’s victory.

Politics is similar. If we say we love democracy but stay silent about our side’s foul and rage only at the opponent’s foul, what we love may not be democracy but the possibility of our camp’s victory. The same is true in the language of faith: to speak of justice while closing our eyes to the injustice of our own side is not justice but idolized belonging.

Political maturity begins when we can apply to people we like the same standard we apply to people we dislike.

The Right Direction Is Not Hiding in Gray Neutrality

The “third option” of Tertia Optio does not mean blending both sides in moderation. Nor does it mean mechanical neutrality on every issue. It means putting truth before camps. It means preserving the freedom to say that my side is right when it is right, and wrong when it is wrong.

Therefore, in public controversies such as this one, the necessary posture is clear. We must separate verifiable facts as much as possible. We must ask whether institutions and procedures actually worked. If responsibility exists, it must be named regardless of camp. We must not demonize the entire opposing side on the basis of what has not yet been confirmed. And we must promise ourselves that we would apply the same standard if the same thing happened under another government.

Democracy is not an institution for perfect people. It is a device by which people with different desires and interests live together through minimum rules and procedures. The most dangerous person in democracy is not the person with a different opinion. It is the person who changes the standard itself for the victory of their own side.

We must monitor politicians. But first, we must monitor how easily our own standards are shaken by political belonging. Camps may be necessary. But the moment a camp comes before truth, citizens become mere supporters, and politics becomes tribal war rather than public work.

Whatever conclusion this controversy eventually reaches, this question should remain: could we say the same thing if the subject changed? If that question makes us uncomfortable, perhaps that discomfort is a sign that political maturity is still possible.