The politics of arrogance and the politics of ethics

Can someone who mistreats individuals standing before them truly claim to love the abstract collective called the people? If conscience still matters, both figures should decide their own future accordingly.

Lee Ha-kyung

The author is a senior columnist at the JoongAng Ilbo.

The level of a country’s politics can be measured by how its leaders treat human dignity. Recent revelations involving Kim Byung-kee, former floor leader of the Democratic Party, and Lee Hye-hoon, a nominee for minister of planning and budget, have exposed an unsettling underside of Korean politics. Accounts of abuse of power and pursuit of private gain that drag in spouses, children, daughters-in-law and even grandchildren go far beyond what ordinary citizens might imagine. Arrogant power, once unleashed, carries a stench that makes one dizzy.

Kim Byung-kee, floor leader of the Democratic Party, bows in apology ahead of a statement on allegations of special favors and abuse of power involving himself and his family at a party leadership meeting at the National Assembly in Yeouido, western Seoul, on Dec. 30, 2025. Kim announced in the statement that he would step down as floor leader. [NEWS1]

Kim is accused of ordering aides to assist his eldest son, an employee of the National Intelligence Service, with work-related tasks and to arrange a delay in his second son’s reserve military training. He allegedly had staff handle airport protocols for his daughter-in-law and grandchild. Aides were treated as personal subjects. When his eldest son failed to secure a position at the country’s largest cryptocurrency exchange, Kim is said to have helped place him at a rival firm. He then instructed staff to draft parliamentary inquiries aimed at undermining the market leader, telling them it should be “shut down.” Both companies fell under the oversight of the National Assembly committee on which Kim served. If accurate, the actions amount to a clear abuse of public authority for private interest and retaliation. When six aides protested, Kim dismissed them, prompting a cascade of whistle-blowing.

Lee Hye-hoon faces separate allegations of misconduct. She reportedly berated an intern for failing to report an article that mentioned her name, asking whether the intern’s “IQ was in the single digits” and saying she “wished you were dead.” She also allegedly made late-night calls to staff with insults that crossed the line from verbal abuse into what critics call an assault on dignity. Further accusations followed. A suspected 3 billion won ($2.06 million) windfall from real estate speculation using information obtained through her position and claims that her eldest son posed as unmarried to win a lottery for a high-priced apartment. If proven, these acts would stand in stark contrast to her public rhetoric about economic fairness.

Not all Korean leaders treated power this way. Former presidents Kim Young-sam, Kim Dae-jung and Roh Moo-hyun were known for regarding aides not as subordinates to be exploited but as partners and comrades. Kim Young-sam was remembered for his warmth. After an aide’s mistake once left him the only guest wearing a red sash at a Blue House event, he scolded the aide in the car ride home with a sharp remark but harbored no grudge. His generosity inspired loyalty that lasted decades.

Kim Dae-jung addressed aides as “comrades,” even after becoming president. He took notes like a student when receiving briefings from young officials and worried about the families of fellow dissidents who had been tortured, even as he himself faced execution. Sixteen years after his death, aides who shared those difficult years still visit his grave weekly.

Roh Moo-hyun’s record was similar. Lee Kwang-jae, a former aide who later became Gangwon governor, recalled that Roh shared all allowances with staff and slept in the same room with them during regional trips. Roh taught aides the law himself, believing legislative work required legal understanding. When Ahn Hee-jung, a close associate, was later imprisoned, Roh wept, saying Ahn was suffering in his place. Former aides say Roh used honorifics even when addressing staff members such as Hwang Yi-soo and Lee Kwang-jae, who were 19 years younger than him, and that when he lost elections, he personally sought positions for them in other lawmakers’ offices so they could continue working. He was generous to the weak and unflinching before the strong.

These contrasts echo lessons from political philosophy. In the fourth century B.C., Aristotle and his students studied the constitutions of 158 Greek city-states before writing “Politics.” He argued that communities exist to realize some form of good and warned that when rulers disregard law and wield power for private desire, the result is tyranny. Tyrants, he wrote, maintain power by fostering distrust and surveillance among subordinates, a description that critics say resembles the way Lee Hye-hoon allegedly managed staff.

Lee Hye-hoon, nominee for minister of planning and budget, greets reporters after making remarks as she arrives at her office for preparations for a confirmation hearing at the Korea Deposit Insurance Corporation building in Jung District, central Seoul, on the morning of Dec. 30, 2025. Lee apologized, saying, “Insurrection is an illegal act that destroys democracy,” but added, “At the time, I failed to fully grasp the reality of the situation.” [YONHAP]

The Greeks viewed hubris, or arrogance, as the gravest sin. Those who abused others for self-satisfaction invited Nemesis, the goddess of retribution. The alleged conduct of Kim Byung-kee and Lee Hye-hoon fits this ancient definition of hubris in a modern setting.

Aristotle wrote on ethics before politics. Centuries later, Max Weber stressed ethics in “Politics as a Vocation” (1919), arguing that conviction and responsibility must work together. Ethics, for Weber, was not a sermon about being nice. It was a professional competence required to handle the dangerous instrument of power. Politics begins with ethics.

Can someone who mistreats individuals standing before them truly claim to love the abstract collective called the people. If conscience still matters, both figures should decide their own future accordingly. That would be the minimum act of contrition needed to move from a politics of arrogance back toward a politics of ethics.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.