Hong Myung-bo (left), blaming players instead of analyzing the causes of defeat. Lee Jae-myung, planning to print more money despite rising inflation. [Photo = Yonhap News]

These days, the most chilling and universal sentiment permeating the lives of ordinary South Koreans is a kind of "wonder" that transcends mere anger. People watching the news and sports broadcasts find themselves suddenly deflated, letting out a hollow laugh.

“If someone like that is a leader, I could do a better job myself.”

There are two key figures who have led the public to this dismal yet grimly amusing realization.

First, there is Hong Myung-bo, the old-fashioned figure occupying the bench.

He is on the verge of wasting the sweat and tears of superstars, clinging to outdated back-passing tactics and stubborn player selections that lack any strategic depth.

It is a profound obstinacy—a total absence of tactics combined with an insistence on the only archaic method he knows. In this tragedy on the pitch, we have witnessed the most archetypal, bare-faced display of incompetence.

Yet, when we turn our eyes to Yeouido, we see a perfect decalcomania of this wretched incompetence holding the steering wheel of the nation. Lee Jae-myung’s manual for state governance can also be summarized in a single line, much like Hong Myung-bo’s back-passing:

“Borrow money unconditionally and spend it.”

Review his track record dispassionately. Whether it was overcoming civil unrest—though I disagree with that characterization—or addressing the hardships of the public, he even forced through an additional budget for "war" under the pretext of preventing the fallout from Middle East conflicts and high inflation. That totals 58 trillion won.

Now, even when faced with the cutting-edge topic of securing GPUs—the core component of the AI era—the only solution that popped out of this powerful figure's mouth was a one-dimensional reflex: “I don’t know, perhaps we need another supplementary budget.”

Just as every problem looks like a nail to a man with a hammer, to one whose brain is steeped in populism, every national crisis looks merely like a "justification for a supplementary budget" to buy votes with borrowed money.

If the only answer to every problem is a supplementary budget, then why do we even need a government?

Competitiveness in the AI industry comes from complex infrastructure innovation, such as deregulation, power grid security, and tax incentives. Yet, one is left speechless by this crude idea that the state should simply borrow money to hoard graphics cards.

Because there is no fundamental understanding of the industries that would unravel the complex causality of the economy, the only thing they can conceive of is a Joseon-era style of distribution: "using the national budget to buy things and hand them out."

A common trait among those incapable of contemplating alternatives is their perpetual arrogance. Just as the old-timer on the soccer field ruins the game with a one-trick "three-back" defense, the fascist in Yeouido is paralyzing the nation’s economic spine with nothing but a single, outdated bottle of "supplementary budget" medicine.

It is an obstinacy that refuses to find flexible solutions even when failure is obvious, clinging instead to the one shallow stroke of luck they think they know.

Incompetence is merely a sad personal limitation; it is not a crime. However, when that wretched incompetence and stubbornness don the armband and decide the fates of others, it becomes a massive act of national terrorism.

They cannot analyze the cause of defeat and blame the players; inflation is driven by liquidity, yet they call for another supplementary budget.

Under these two powerful figures with such devastatingly impoverished philosophies, South Korea in 2026 has been reduced to a stage for a third-rate comedy, where the public watches television daily and must take bitter comfort in the thought, "At least my intelligence is higher than theirs."

◆ Author Park Joo-hyun

A composer, music director, columnist, and essayist. He actively expresses his opinions on political, current, and social issues on Facebook, garnering widespread public empathy. He is the author of the essay collection "Crossing the Stormy Sea."