If the Roles Were Reversed, Would We Say the Same?

When the first question we ask about a political controversy is not “what happened?” but “who did it?”, our public life is already in trouble.

A controversy involving South Korea's National Election Commission, an independent constitutional agency that administers elections, has again revealed how quickly public reactions divide along partisan lines. To some, the allegations raise grave questions about democratic integrity. To others, they look like another political offensive manufactured by the opposition. The merits of any specific allegation must be determined through verified evidence, lawful procedure, and clear lines of responsibility. Even before that judgment is complete, however, the controversy leaves one unavoidable question.

This is not a rhetorical device for attacking one particular party. It is a basic test of intellectual honesty: is my judgment grounded in principle, or am I simply following the instincts of my political tribe?

Partisan Loyalty Makes Judgment Faster, Not Fairer

Partisan identity can give people a sense of stability. It sorts complex issues quickly, telling us whom to trust and whom to suspect before careful judgment begins. That convenience is precisely what makes partisan tribalism dangerous. It relieves us of the burden of thinking, but it also weakens our capacity for fair judgment.

When politicians become absorbed in the interests of their own side, public responsibility disappears. Power stops being a tool for the common good and becomes a means of protecting and rewarding one's own coalition. The more serious problem arises when supporters excuse that distortion instead of challenging it. If the other side does it, it is a national scandal; if my side does it, it becomes a regrettable but necessary act of self-defense.

This habit is not unique to either conservatives or progressives. Both sides in Korean politics have repeated it. To be lenient toward one's own side and unforgiving toward the other is ultimately 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 side have been furious if the roles were reversed?” can be a useful tool for self-examination. But it cannot replace a factual evaluation of the present case.

Pointing out hypocrisy and determining what actually happened are different tasks. Double standards must be criticized, but the event itself must also be examined on its own merits. One without the other is not enough. Criticism of hypocrisy without verification turns politics into cynicism. Procedural analysis that ignores unequal standards becomes an alibi.

Standards Matter Most When Disaster Strikes

This question is not limited to the National Election Commission or to any particular party. It matters even more after 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 turned into slogans for one government or political coalition. First there must be mourning; then there must be careful examination of structural causes, administrative responsibility, decisions on the ground, 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 partisan reflexes often take hold before the facts of a disaster are known. A tragedy under a government we dislike becomes proof of the state's guilt; a tragedy under a government we support is reduced to inevitability or blamed only on frontline personnel. Criticism from the other side is dismissed as political theater, while criticism from our own side is framed as righteous accountability. But when lives have been lost, a standard that changes with party allegiance is not mourning. It is an attempt to claim 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, what we love may not be democracy but the prospect of our party'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 partisan loyalty raised to the level of an idol.

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

The Alternative Is Not Empty Neutrality

The “third option” of Tertia Optio does not mean splitting the difference between two sides. Nor does it require neutrality on every issue. It means putting truth before party. 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 distinguish verified facts from allegations, interpretations, and speculation. We must ask whether institutions and procedures actually worked. If responsibility exists, it must be named regardless of party. We must not demonize the entire opposing side on the basis of what has not yet been confirmed. And we must commit ourselves to applying the same standard if the same thing happens under another government.

Democracy is not a system designed for perfect people. It is a way for people with different interests and convictions to live together under shared rules and procedures. The gravest danger is not disagreement itself, but the willingness to change the rules whenever doing so benefits one's own side.

We must hold politicians accountable. But we must also examine how easily political belonging unsettles our own standards. Parties and coalitions are necessary to democratic government. The moment partisan loyalty comes before truth, however, citizens become mere fans and politics becomes tribal conflict rather than public work.

Whatever conclusion this controversy eventually reaches, one question should remain: if the roles were reversed, would we say the same thing? If that question makes us uncomfortable, perhaps the discomfort is evidence that political maturity is still possible.