
For hours, the atmosphere on the streets around the Constitutional Court in South Korea in the center of Seoul was tense. Dozens camped overnight in the early spring cold in the performance of a historic court decision on Friday.
Crowds for and against the release of the press of the printed president in the country, Yoon Suk Yeol, split police buses and metal barriers up to 13 feet in height.
As the acting duties of the main justice began to read the decision, filled with the technical jargon, the crowds became quieter, straining to hear the speakers outdoors, the outcome that would determine Mr. Yoon’s fate – in the country. Some opposed Mr. Yoon in a cheer and occasionally clapped as the reading continued. The protesters on both sides prayed their hands together. Many kept their phones to record a moment.
And then the crowd broke out.
Those who supported Mr. Yoon’s imperial impairment reacted with hugs, screams and fists pumped into the air with a unanimous decision to remove it from duty. At the gathering of Mr. Yoon’s supporter near his residence, it was a loud waking. Some folded themselves in disgust, and others cursed loudly.
“It was so hard, but now my heart has been relieved,” said Kim Ji-Seon, 55, who brought her daughter to testify to the judgment in the hope that he would adhere to the Imperatin of Mr. Yoon. “I hope I can create a country where people can be happy.”
Shortly after the decision was announced, only a few people, some who carried Korea shiny and “stopped theft”, were left on a demonstration of Pro-Joon, which should last all day outside the presidential office. Construction workers scaffolded scaffolding, and dozens of chairs were stacked and pushed aside.
Jang Jaeeuk, 21, said he stayed out overnight on the street near the field, along with other students from his university, getting only three hours of sleep, because it was such an important day for his country.
“I am happy that the difficulties in the last four months have not gone to waste,” he said after crying and hugging his colleagues as he heard the verdict. “Now I feel that we can change the world and, in that sense, I hope for the future.”
Mr. Yoon’s supporters near the court, mostly men, said they were deeply disappointed that the president had been removed and went home.
Yon So-Jun, 18, who was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, said he did not believe in a system that led to an indentation and scared in the future of the country.
“The democracy of South Korea is dead,” he said, adding that he hoped that the National Assembly, which is to interfere with Mr. Yoon, will dissolve.
After the decision, some South Koreans expressed concern about what the possibilities of further political reversal could come.
Lee Yongseok, 27, who watched the television decision of the court on the screen at the main train station of Seoul, said that, although he supported the verdict, he knew that others would be skeptical of the verdict and the judges who made it.
“I feel like something big will come to my country,” he said.
Even while the supporters and opponents of Mr. Yoon tried to understand what followed for their country, government officials took steps to move on.
In the gesture that emphasized the finality of the court judgment, officials removed the presidential emblem in front of the building where Mr. Yon worked as a president. The emblem carries a picture of a mythical bird, a phoenix.
Choe Sang-Hun,, Chang W. Lee,, Jun Michael Park and Victoria Kim contribute to reporting.