On Dec. 3, 2024, it was a day that will never be forgotten. Around 10:30 p.m., martial law was declared in the Republic of Korea. It was the first emergency martial law in 45 years since Oct. 26, 1979. Yoon Suk-yeol declared martial law and established a martial law command under the pretext of “We will eradicate pro-North Korean anti-state forces that shake the foundation of liberal democracy.” In addition, measures such as prohibiting all political activities of the National Assembly and political parties, controlling all media and publication, punishment for medical professionals refusing to return to their posts, and the possibility of arrest, detention, and seizure and search without a warrant under martial law were declared.

  However, we cannot help but ask, “Can martial law, which was said to be for the free Republic of Korea, really be called democracy?” The sudden declaration of martial law late at night kept many awake. It was in early Dec., when college students were preparing for their final exams. I also had to study, but that night, I was forced to tremble with anxiety while only looking at the news.

  However, amid the unrest, citizens moved. Lawmakers who crossed the wall to go to the National Assembly, citizens who took to the streets to defend them. Without their courage, we might not have had our freedom. Still, we feel a sense of debt for those who resisted against martial law forces on that day. Thanks to their efforts, the resolution calling for lifting the emergency martial law was passed in just two and a half hours. Trying to control the National Assembly was a clear violation of the separation of powers. Is this what Yoon wanted to be a liberal democracy?

  On Oct. 10 of the same year, writer Han Kang won the Nobel Prize in Literature. One of the reasons for the selection was “A poetic prose that faces historical wounds and exposes the vulnerability of human life.” Among her works, Human Acts, which deals with the May 18 Gwangju Democratization Movement, and We Do Not Part, which deals with the Jeju April 3 incident, came to mind. Martial law was in the deepest wounds of modern history of the ROK. However, that very year, we had to face martial law again. I earnestly hoped that the same pain would not be repeated and that bloodshed would no longer occur. The freedom we enjoy comes from the sacrifices of the past. If we had not fought for democracy amid the oppression, we would not have had our daily lives today. After martial law was declared, writer Han Kang said in her speech to the Nobel Prize for Literature. “Can the dead save the living? While writing this novel, there were moments when I felt that the past was helping the present and that the dead were saving the living.”

  With past sacrifices and hard work, we are moving forward again. On Dec. 4, every move to lift the emergency martial law saved the present. Morever, it was not just that day. Citizens were constantly on the move. Despite the fierce wind and unexpected snowstorm, rallies continued across the country, including Yeouido, Gwanghwamun, and Hannam-dong. I feel another sense of debt for the citizens who stepped out there. Thanks to their solidarity, we were able to regain our daily lives. However, the rally process was not smooth. The National Farmers’ Federation and the Korean Women Peasants Association (KWPA) left Jinju, Gyeongsangnam-do Province, on Dec. 16, with plans to hold a tractor march on Dec. 21, in Seoul. However, police blocked the march by building a barrier at Namtaeryeong Pass, citing traffic congestion. During the confrontation between about 30 tractors, 50 lorries, and 100 farmers, citizens watched Social media and YouTube and immediately headed for Namtaeryeong Pass. Eventually, after a 28-hour standoff, the tractors crossed the pass. It was the result of civic solidarity. Those who could not be present acted from afar. They showed solidarity by sending kimbap and hot food to the site of the confrontation. Later, the farmers said, “I was touched by the help of my young friends.” It was the longest confrontation in the freezing cold, and the will of the citizens opened the door.

  Three months have passed since martial law was declared. In the meantime, citizens have stood in solidarity, observed, and prepared for spring by enduring the cold winter. As in the past, spring does surely come today. We have taken numerous steps to blossom democracy. Democracy is not something that someone else will protect for us. Our freedom is safeguarded through our actions and solidarity. As the saying goes, “Ten people taking one step together is more meaningful than one person taking ten steps alone,” and we have witnessed countless acts of solidarity. Remembering that strength, we will move forward toward a spring where the flowers of democracy bloom. Once again, we must act for freedom and democracy. This is both the task that history has given us, as well as the solution to preserving the present. We must raise our voices, stand in solidarity, and unite.