As South Koreans took to the streets this month demanding the ousting of their president, some found an unexpected outlet to express their fury: jokes and satire.
They hoisted banners and flags with whimsical messages about cats, sea otters and food. They waved signs joking that President Yoon Suk Yeol’s declaration of martial law had forced them to leave the comfort of their beds. Pictures of the flags spread widely on social media.
The idea was to use humor to build solidarity against Mr. Yoon, who has vowed to fight his impeachment over his ill-fated martial law decree on Dec. 3. Some waved flags for nonexistent groups like the so-called Dumpling Association, a parody of real groups like labor unions, churches or student clubs.
Video by Yu Young Jin/The New York Times
Photos by Weiyi Cai/The New York Times
“I just wanted to show that we were here as part of the people even if we aren’t actually a part of a civic group,” said Kim Sae-rim, 28, who waved the flag of the dumpling group at a recent protest she went to with friends. Some groups referred to other local favorites like pizza and red bean pastries.
Kwon Oh-hyouck, a veteran protester, said that he had first seen such flags emerge during demonstrations in 2016 and 2017 that ultimately resulted in the removal of President Park Geun-hye. Mr. Kwon said that satire was part of the Korean spirit of protest.
“People satirize serious situations, even when those in power come out with guns and knives,” he said. “They are not intimidated.”
In the past month, protesters have come up with a wide range of unorthodox groupings. Some were self-proclaimed homebodies. Still others came together as people who suffered from motion sickness.
Video by Chang W. Lee/The New York Times
Photos by Weiyi Cai/The New York Times
Video by Weiyi Cai/The New York Times
Photo by Chang W. Lee/The New York Times
Lee Kihoon, a professor of modern Korean history at Yonsei University in Seoul, said that he believed the flags at this month’s protests were an expression of the diversity of people galvanized by the president’s attempt to impose military rule.
“They’re trying to say: ‘Even for those of us who have nothing to do with political groups, this situation is unacceptable,’” he said. “‘I’m not a member of a party or anything, but this is outrageous.’”
Some held signs ridiculing Mr. Yoon, saying that he had separated them from their pets at home and disrupted their routine of watching Korean dramas. One group called itself a union of people running behind schedule, referring to the idea that the need to protest over martial law had forced them to reschedule their appointments.
Photo by Weiyi Cai/The New York Times
Photo by Chang W. Lee/The New York Times
And of course, there were animals, both real and fake.
Photos by Weiyi Cai/The New York Times
South Koreans have shown that protests for serious causes — like the ousting of a president — can still have an inviting, optimistic and carnival-like atmosphere.
“I don’t know if the protesters realize it, but even though they’re angry, they haven’t gotten solemn, heavy or moralistic,” Mr. Lee said. “The flags have had an effect of softening and relaxing the tension.”
On the day that lawmakers voted to impeach Mr. Yoon, protesters who were K-pop fans brought lightsticks to rallies and danced to pop songs blasting from speakers. “Even though this is a serious day,” said Lee Jung-min, a 31-year-old fan of the band Big Bang, “we might as well enjoy it and keep spirits up.”
Video by Chang W. Lee/The New York Times
