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When independence turns into self-righteousness, it becomes a toxic dogma. The prime example of this reality today is the National Human Rights Commission of Korea (NHRCK). Under the leadership of Chairperson Ahn Chang-ho, who recently reiterated his determination to complete his term, the commission remains locked in a state of defiance. Even as division heads resign from their posts and calls for his stepping down pour in from both inside and outside the organization, he refuses to voluntarily vacate a position guaranteed by law.
The growing outcry for Ahn’s resignation stems from a track record that flies directly in the face of human rights. Even before taking office in 2024, Ahn sparked fierce controversy with discriminatory remarks targeting sexual minorities. Despite this, the Yoon Suk-yeol administration appointed him to lead the watchdog—only to declare an emergency martial law decree just three months later on December 3. In the wake of that crisis, the NHRCK under Ahn remained completely silent on the widespread violations of citizens' civil liberties, choosing instead to issue an official opinion advocating for the defense rights of former President Yoon, who was under investigation for rebellion. In an unprecedented national crisis where the basic rights of all citizens were suspended, the state human rights watchdog chose to side with power rather than the people.
The irony that allows Ahn to cling to his post while uprooting the very foundation of the commission lies in the absolute independence granted to the NHRCK. Under the National Human Rights Commission Act, there is no legal basis for impeaching the chairperson or commissioners, nor is there a mechanism for external audits. The commission operates free from external direction, holding the mandate to recommend improvements and corrections whenever any entity—or even current legislation—is deemed to violate human rights. This setup was intentionally designed to let the watchdog defend the sacrosanct domain of human rights without being bound by politics or regular laws.
The problem arises when the very institution meant to guard that line ends up violating the rights of others. Ahn once claimed that "homosexuality is a core tactic of communist revolution," and went so far as to repeat this claim during his parliamentary confirmation hearing as justification for his opposition to the anti-discrimination act. While individuals may hold differing personal views on homosexuality, the weight of such remarks changes entirely when they are uttered by the head of a national human rights body. At that moment, affected groups are effectively stripped of state-backed protections, leaving them with nowhere to turn.
Following the martial law incident, the commission’s self-righteousness reached its peak. Kim Yong-won, then a standing commissioner, went on social media to declare he was proud of the decision to support Yoon’s defense rights. It was a bizarre spectacle: an official on the front lines of human rights defense publicly defending an event that fundamentally trampled on the freedoms of the entire population. When the Board of Audit and Inspection (BAI) launched an unusual probe at the request of the National Assembly, Kim refused to appear, claiming he was concerned it would mean "voluntarily surrendering the commission’s independence." Even when the BAI issued a report last December confirming illegal and improper conduct by both Ahn and Kim, the NHRCK fired back, stating that audits must consider the need for "stable roles for its members to secure institutional independence." In short, any external oversight regarding their misconduct was weaponized and dismissed as an assault on their independence.
Inevitably, the commission has squandered its moral authority. This past May, ahead of the local elections, the NHRCK issued a statement urging "elections free of hate speech to realize true democracy." This proclamation came from an agency whose chairperson has engaged in hate speech and whose key commissioners defended a martial law decree. As the national human rights watchdog loses its credibility, the public has lost its ultimate safety net.
Today, the NHRCK is a hollow shell, stripped of its symbolic value and holding onto nothing but absolute independence. This structural failure is not unique to any single individual. Korea’s political system has long treated the commission’s appointments as political spoils divided among the president and rival parties, making it routine to install partisan figures into these ironclad tenures. Under these circumstances, independence should no longer serve as a blank check for immunity, but rather as the precise reason for stricter oversight. True independence means the exclusion of external direction or political interference; it was never intended to shield an institution from basic accountability. Without external checks and balances, the NHRCK will devolve into nothing more than an unaccountable entity that wields unchecked power while lecturing others from the sidelines.
Kim Hong-chan