The South Korean Government's Housing Policy Tanks Its Approval Ratings

The intersection of urban development, historical preservation, and political survival has rarely been as sharply delineated in South Korea as it is this month. The administration of President Lee Jae-myung, facing a deepening housing affordability crisis, has ignited a firestorm of public opposition by proposing to build apartment complexes within the hallowed grounds of Yongsan Park. The controversy has not only galvanized Seoulites but has also driven the president's approval rating below the 50 percent mark for the first time since his term began, signaling a significant political vulnerability for a government that staked its mandate on economic populism.

The South Korean Government's Housing Policy Tanks Its Approval Ratings

Seoul, South Korea – August 26, 2026 — President Lee Jae-myung's administration, confronting a deepening housing affordability crisis, has provoked a storm of public opposition with a proposal to build apartments inside Yongsan Park — driving the president's approval rating below 50 percent for the first time since he took office and reigniting a national debate over the balance between development and preservation.

The Housing Crisis and the Government's Response

The root of the administration's urgency lies in a decades-old structural problem. South Korea's real estate market, fueled by a frenetic cycle of investment and redevelopment, has seen housing prices skyrocket for years. In a society where owning an apartment is often considered a prerequisite for marriage, this financial barrier has become a critical factor suppressing the nation's already alarmingly low birthrate. The resulting wealth inequality, largely determined by property ownership, has created a social reality that the Lee administration has deemed untenable.

In response, the government has implemented a series of policies aimed at cooling the overheated market. However, two measures have drawn particular ire. First, the shrinking of the loan-to-value ratio for homebuyers has forced many to pivot toward the *jeonse* (lease) system. This surge in demand for leases has, in turn, driven up rents and the hefty upfront premiums required, creating a scarcity of available leases. Second, the government proposed increasing the cap on the real estate holding tax and adjusting the market valuation rates used to assess property value for tax purposes. Together, these policies have managed to alienate a broad swath of Seoul's residents, from prospective tenants to established homeowners, creating a political backlash that the administration did not anticipate.

The Yongsan Park Proposal: A Bridge Too Far

It is within this context of public frustration that the government's proposal to develop housing within Yongsan Park emerged. In mid-August, a senior economic advisor to President Lee floated the idea on a radio appearance, suggesting that the park's sheer size offered opportunities for residential development, even pointing to the children's garden as a potential site. The land and infrastructure ministry quickly followed up, announcing a survey to identify areas within the park—particularly those already cleared by the departing U.S. military—that could be repurposed for housing. This was framed as a direct response to President Lee's August 13 exhortation to his aides to "devote all available resources and capabilities to solving housing problems that threaten people's livelihood and the state's future."

The proposal strikes a raw nerve because of the park's unique history. Yongsan Park is not merely a green space; it is a palimpsest of Korean modernity and trauma. Before the Americans arrived, the area was a strategic military site for a succession of foreign powers. In the 13th century, Mongol forces occupied the area. In the 17th century, Qing Dynasty soldiers were quartered there. During the first half of the 20th century, it served as a base for Imperial Japan's military, from which Koreans were conscripted and sent to die in Japan's wars. The arrival of the U.S. 8th Army in 1953, following the armistice, turned the 630-acre garrison into a "little America" in the heart of Seoul, a symbol of the alliance that guaranteed the South's security but also a constant reminder of the nation's divided sovereignty.

Legal Mandates and Historical Promises

The legal framework governing the land's future adds another layer of complexity. The 2007 Special Act on the Creation of Yongsan Park, legislated during the Roh Moo-hyun administration, explicitly binds the government to develop the returned land "into a place for leisure and relaxation as well as a natural and ecological space." The act bars any development other than a park. The current proposal, therefore, is not just a policy shift; it is a potential violation of a standing law designed to return this land to the public as a permanent sanctuary.

Furthermore, the history of the land's return is itself a saga of broken timelines. The agreement to relocate U.S. forces out of Seoul dates back to a 1989 helicopter tour by then-President Roh Tae-woo and U.S. President George H. W. Bush, who reportedly agreed that foreign troops should not remain in the middle of a state's capital. The decision to move forces to Camp Humphreys was finalized in 2004, yet Washington has only returned roughly 30 percent of the land. The remainder is tied up in negotiations over environmental cleanup and recompensation. For many, the idea of building apartments on the small portion that has been returned, before the full site has even been secured, feels like a betrayal of the original vision.

Political Fallout and Public Opposition

The political consequences have been swift and severe. Polls conducted in mid-August showed President Lee's approval rating falling below 50 percent for the first time, with the housing crisis and prosecutorial reform cited as the primary reasons for public discontent. The numbers are particularly stark among young Seoul residents, where the president's performance rating is a dismal 31 percent—a demographic crucial to his electoral base. The controversy has also drawn a firm line of opposition from Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon, who has publicly locked horns with the central government. In a video filmed at the park, Oh declared, "History won't forgive me for allowing even a small portion of the park to be turned into apartment sites," emphasizing the need to preserve Yongsan's history and nature for future generations. His stance is backed by public sentiment; a survey released on August 24 found that two out of three Seoulites oppose the government's proposal.

This is not the first time a conservative administration has attempted to develop the park. In 2016, the Park Geun-hye government proposed building museums within the grounds and was met with such intense public outrage that it was forced to back down. The current administration, despite its progressive credentials, appears to be repeating a politically costly mistake, underestimating the deep emotional and symbolic attachment Koreans have to this specific piece of land.

Beyond the Park: The Need for a New Urban Paradigm

The debate over Yongsan Park, however, obscures a more fundamental policy failure. The government's pledge to lay the groundwork for 1.5 million new publicly funded flats during Lee's term is ambitious, but the approach of simply adding supply through traditional high-rise development is increasingly seen as anachronistic. What Seoul requires is not more of the same—drab, high-rise apartment complexes that have come to define the city's skyline—but a comprehensive regeneration plan that organically connects residential, commercial, and recreational spaces. This would involve incorporating dilapidated housing in low-density areas into large-scale mixed-use developments, moving some commercial and recreational needs underground, and connecting these spaces through innovative infrastructure and transportation planning.

The Yongsan Park controversy is a litmus test for the Lee administration's political acumen and its ability to navigate complex urban policy. The government's urgency to solve the housing crisis is understandable, but its approach risks sacrificing the city's soul for a short-term political win. The park, once fully returned, could become Seoul's equivalent of New York's Central Park or London's Hyde Park—a vital "lung" for the city that nurtures ecology, mitigates heat waves, and provides a shared natural space for a dense, stressed population. It represents the last, best chance to rectify Seoul's cramped landscape and restore biological diversity.

For the Lee administration, the path forward is fraught. It must balance the legitimate need for housing against the preservation of a site of profound historical and ecological significance. The government has stated that the vast majority of the park will be spared, but the very act of carving out any portion for apartments necessitates auxiliary infrastructure—roads, schools, malls—that would fragment the green space and ruin its integrity. The administration would be wise to heed the lessons of 2016 and the current polling data. Expediting negotiations with Washington for the full transfer of the garrison land, as promised over three decades ago, would be a more constructive use of its energy than fighting a losing battle over the park's sanctity. The future of the Lee administration's housing policy, and its political fortunes, may well depend on its ability to recognize that some battles are not worth winning.

By Prof. David Park, Staff Writer

This article was produced with AI-assisted research and editorial support. Sources: The Diplomat.