Veterans of the Republic of Korea Marine Corps march alongside the citizens they swore an oath to protect to rally against the President. An older man waves his flag fiercely, leading the Marines. Out of his mouth boom the impassioned words, “해병대는 국민을 위해 싸운다!” (“The Marine Corps fights for the people!”). Faces young and faces old march together, warmed in the frigid winter air by love for their nation. 

Christmas is celebrated all over the world. It is celebrated in almost every single nation in the world and all seven continents (yes, even Antarctica); however, each nation celebrates it a little differently.

This year in South Korea, people spent Christmas taking to the streets in protest against President Yoon Suk-Yeol. They reject his declaration of martial law as well as his presidency as a whole, which they accuse of corruption. 

However, this is not your normal protest. The air is lively and vibrant rather than angry and vindictive. People offer each other homemade snacks, and some supporters even order warm coffees in bulk at nearby cafes, allowing their fellow protesters to take the coffees under their name, which is a blessing in the frosty Korean winter. 

Singers and bands make their way onstage, performing Korean folk songs that everyone knows. They also perform parodies of Christmas classics like “탄핵이 답이다” (“Impeachment is the Answer”), a song in the melody of “Feliz Navidad.” Santa Claus himself even makes an appearance, albeit as an inflatable plastic costume.

But don’t let the festival-esque air of the protest fool you; this group of people is determined in its cause like no other. As they march on historical 광하문 (Gwanghamun Square), the air keeps its cheery vibe but gains a more solemn tone. The crowd chants its declarations in one voice, its speakers different but united. 

What might student unions, veterans of the Republic of Korea Marine Corps, and laborers have in common? They are all citizens of the Republic of Korea, and as citizens, they love their country. These people show us what it really means to be a patriot: fighting for your nation, not when it is warm and easy, but when it is cold and difficult to do so.

Sifting through a crowd of citizens of all ages, a young high school student reporter and his trusty camera take to the rally to photograph the scenes of civil protest. Just a few feet from him sit two members of South Korea’s National Assembly Park Eun-Jeong and Kim Joon-Hyung, along with Chun Tae-Sam—brother of the late labor activist and martyr Chun Tae-Il.

Two singers appear onstage and sing popular folk songs with the crowd—with a twist. The classic lyrics are changed with words like 파면 (fire), 처벌 (punish), and 탄핵 (impeach). The crowd laughs and sings together in one voice, the lyrics projected on the screen. It is reminiscent of signature Korean karaoke.

Two officers who are stationed at the rally to ensure safety have a conversation about what is happening. “This reminds me of the protests eight years ago when people fought for and succeeded in impeaching President Park,” one says to the other in Korean. They discuss their memories of those protests and the symbol of the candle, which stood for a symbol of unity and protest then as much as it does now.

A crowd lines the fences around the media crew, their eyes set on each of the speakers. Some wave the national flag; others hold balloons with words of the protest printed on them. Some even hand out newspapers about the actions of President Yoon. A man raises his poster that reads “윤석열을 파면하고 구속하라!” (Fire and arrest Yoon Suk-Yeol!) as he chants the same words with passion in his eyes.

The rally marches on to 광화문 (Gwanghwamun Square), a historical venue that lies in front of 청와대 (Cheonghwadae), where the president traditionally resides. During this march, the crowd is joined by another marching from a different rally, yet for the same cause. Flags of a wide breadth of organizations fly in the frigid winter wind together as their carriers stride onward, arm in arm.

The large crowd spills over into a nearby park. An old, stained, and battered yet strong 태극기 (Taegeukgi)—the South Korean flag—flies proudly in the wind next to its fellow flags, flying for different organizations. The man holding the 태극기 tells how he is a veteran of protests against past dictatorial regimes the country has faced. During each protest, this has been the 태극기 he has flown, symbolizing his fight for his nation.