SEOUL, South Korea — It may read like lunatic conspiracy theorizing, but in South Korea, where security never strays far from the headlines and superstitious practices are ubiquitous on 21st-century streets, truth is often stranger than fiction.
Case in point: Police say they have found evidence of a cloak-and-dagger border plot to generate a genuine national security crisis for President Yoon Suk Yeol’s martial law decree on Dec. 3. Prosecutors also say a shaman may have been involved in policymaking at the highest levels.
The developments deepen the intrigue in Seoul’s high-stakes political drama as the impeached Mr. Yoon awaits his political fate. And it’s just one of the story lines as Seoul tried to dig out from a crisis that has raised questions in Washington and elsewhere about the stability of one of East Asia’s most prosperous democracies.
It wouldn’t be the first time that North Korea, a legitimate security boogeyman, has been used to influence domestic politics. South Korean operatives were imprisoned for plotting an incident at the Demilitarized Zone in 1997 for just such a purpose.
Mr. Yoon has appeared publicly with a mystical character on his palm and is accused of relocating the presidential residence in 2022 on advice from a shaman. Though Shamanism has deep roots in Korean culture, it faces modern prejudices.
Border security and spiritual counsel allegations hang over Mr. Yoon, who cited anti-state forces and parliamentary obstruction to declare martial law.
Parliamentarians canceled Mr. Yoon’s declaration within three hours and impeached him 11 days later.
His future now rests with the Constitutional Court. In the meantime, police, prosecutors and investigative journalists are working overtime to learn more about Mr. Yoon’s motivations and decision-making processes.
North Korea crisis as political ploy
Opposition lawmakers say plotters sought to generate a security crisis to legitimize Mr. Yoon’s martial law decree. Some evidence seems to back up that contention.
Gen. Noh Sang-won, a detained former chief of the shadowy Defense Intelligence Command, was referred to prosecutors on insurrection charges. He had a post-military career in a shabby-looking fortune-telling business in Suwon, south of Seoul.
Gen. Noh, who allegedly consulted an elite rural shaman on Mr. Yoon’s future, is accused of advising troops on martial law targets and tactics during December meetings in a Lotteria hamburger franchise (dubbed “Martial Lawterria” by a Taiwanese reporter).
Police who raided Gen. Noh’s residence said they discovered a notebook with multiple references to martial law and the line “Induce North Korea’s provocation at the Northern Limit Line.”
The Northern Limit Line is the peninsula’s disputed coastal border. In the 1990s and 2000s, it was the site of deadly patrol boat clashes, the sinking of a South Korean warship and the shelling of a South Korean island.
Gen. Noh’s alleged plot has historical precedence.
Before the 1997 presidential election, South Korean operatives met secretly with North Korean officials in Beijing in a matter now known as Operation Northern Wind.
They intended to bribe Pyongyang to initiate a security crisis, which they thought would benefit conservatives in South Korea.
The plot was uncovered, and the plotters were detained. One of them, a former intelligence chief, later attempted suicide. Liberal candidate Kim Dae-jung won the 1997 presidency.
“Monkey business of disgusting politicians,” a retired South Korean colonel said of the incident.
Allegations of mystical policymaking
Gen. Noh may be the first person with mystical connections and proven links to the South Korean president.
A judge rejected prosecutors’ demands for an arrest warrant for a shaman, citing insufficient evidence of corruption. The shaman was reportedly associated with Mr. Yoon’s 2022 presidential campaign.
Rumors have long circulated about mystics impacting policy.
During the campaign, Mr. Yoon flashed his palm to cameras, revealing the Chinese character “king.” It sparked concerns about a superstitious bent.
Mr. Yoon’s first major decision was to shift the presidential office and residency from the purpose-built Blue House, named for its blue roofing, to a business office adjacent to the Defense Ministry.
The Blue House sits behind a 14th-century Seoul palace with superb feng shui, the geomantic art of syncing buildings with landscapes.
Nevertheless, some consider the Blue House ill-starred. Mr. Yoon dubbed it “imperial,” and it stands on the site of the colonial-era Japanese governor general’s residence.
Tragedy befell South Korean presidents who occupied it, including exile, assassination, imprisonment and suicide.
In 2022, Mr. Yoon denied at a press conference that geomancy was behind the relocation, though an adviser to his party said it was.
Critics liken Mr. Yoon’s wife, Kim Keon-hee, accused of stock manipulation, electoral interference and consulting gurus, to Choi Soon-sil.
Ms. Choi was the corrupt confidante of former conservative President Park Geun-hye. Ms. Choi, whose father founded a religion, was thought to have links to Shamanism.
In 2017, Ms. Park was impeached and joined Ms. Choi in prison.
Opposition leader Lee Jae-myung slammed 2022 rumors surrounding Mr. Yoon. “In a 21st-century modern society … we absolutely cannot allow a shaman to influence decisions,” he said.
According to 2024 research, 52% of Koreans are nonreligious, 32% are Christians and 17% are Buddhists. Just 1% profess other spiritual practices.
Shamans can command vast pay for predictions, exorcisms and other rituals. Official data does not exist, but shamans are commonly known to collect tens of thousands of dollars.
Cities, towns and Korean cyberscapes are dotted with fortunetellers’ businesses offering predictions based on time and date of birth, birth names, facial physiology and Tarot cards.
While Korean politicians often profess Buddhism or Christianity and meet leaders of these religions without controversy, mystical practices outside the mainstream face bias.
“Some say they are believers of Christianity or Buddhism, and that is not a problem,” said Joanne Lee, an expert and writer on Korean folklore.
Shamanism and fortunetelling “is not well accepted,” she said. Yet “it is really deep in the culture, and there are many people living on that business.”
Korea’s last royal dynasty, which fell in 1910, suppressed Shamanism in favor of neo-Confucianism. Ms. Lee, who acknowledges reading newspaper horoscopes, dates negative sentiments to Japan’s 1910-1945 annexation of Korea.
“The Japanese classified existing folklore and traditions as bad, unenlightened, ignorant and poor,” she said. “It was to be eliminated as it was anti-intellectual, so that was the beginning of this.”
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