Judicial reform for many post-socialist countries is an ongoing process. The fall of the Soviet Union in 1991 saw several Eastern European states embark on a journey to integrate into the EU, facing extensive pressure to conform to more stringent standards of judicial independence and rule of law. Anti-corruption campaigns have become central to this effort, particularly across the Balkans. Yet the question remains, “How can governments pursue aggressive anti-corruption prosecutions while still safeguarding democratic justice systems?”

Pressure increased significantly in February of 2018 when the EU–Western Balkans Strategy was adopted. This ramped up pressures through the introduction of comprehensive rule-of-law initiatives. Regional judicial overhauls commenced, with efforts to create specialized anti-corruption bodies taking center stage, whereas structural judicial changes in each country have often been paired with anti-corruption efforts encouraged by the EU. The aim of these efforts has been the eradication of entrenched exploitative networks. As a cursory review of these processes reveal, reform can often create new imbalances.

The case of Albania is one example. There was a time when Tirana was depicted as a leader for EU accession. Indeed, the country commenced one of the region’s most ambitious justice reforms, with extensive international support from the U.S. and the EU, with the centerpiece of this new anti-corruption architecture being the Special Structure against Corruption and Organized Crime (SPAK), established in 2019.

Highlighting the extent of the involvement of actors from outside the EU, this institution was created with assistance from USAID and the U.S. State Department’s Bureau of International Narcotics and Law Enforcement Affairs (INL). The U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ), including the Office of Overseas Prosecutorial Development, Assistance and Training (OPDAT) and the International Criminal Investigative Training Assistance Program (ICITAP), also played supporting roles, creating a structure that would resemble that of the FBI.

SPAK was intended to strengthen investigative capacity, supporting broader rule-of-law reforms and civil society oversight. SPAK was depicted as a landmark achievement capable of accelerating the country’s path toward EU membership, however SPAK has increasingly become the subject of debate. Possessing the mechanism and budgets to combat corruption the challenge facing Albania today is how to ensure the methods used remain consistent with rule-of-law principles.

Fighting corruption does not produce immediate results. Institutional restraint and procedural fairness are required. Concerns have grown that the sweeping powers granted to anti-corruption prosecutors risk undermining these very safeguards. Congressman Keith Self  noted that Albania’s judicial reforms have created delays of 8 to 15 years, a backlog that “undermines the rule of law, public trust, and due process.” Systemic delays illustrate how institutional reforms are not a catchall solution.

An area of particular concern is the expanded use of pretrial detention, which usually serves as an exceptional measure when courts determine there to be a genuine flight risk, threat of interference with an investigation, or threat to public safety. In Albania this has increasingly become a routine prosecutorial tool.

The case of Tirana mayor Erion Veliaj illustrates the controversy. Veliaj was detained by SPAK over a year ago, while to date, no formal charges have been levied. He continues to be held without bail, with another postponement in March 2026, and prevented from being able to perform his municipal duties. Veliaj’s detention, and that of other elected officials, presents a governance dilemma.

When elected officials are held for extended periods without conviction, public service becomes inhibited and voters disenfranchised. Tirana’s Council of Ministers attempted to remove Veliaj from office after three months of detention but the Constitutional Court later reinstated him as mayor, ruling that elected officials cannot be removed from office solely due to being detained.

Similar controversies have emerged in Turkey, where the detention, and trial of Istanbul mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, has been criticized as politically motivated. In Bulgaria, the detention of Varna mayor Blagomir Kotsev sparked nationwide protests. Although each case must be seen within its own political context, together they illustrate a broader tension between anti-corruption enforcement and democratic governance.

A November 20, 2025, Washington Post article described Albania’s approach as an example of “muscular prosecution,” as part of which Albania seems to emphasize that no one should be above the law. Yet framing anti-corruption in these terms risks conflating aggressive enforcement with lawful enforcement. Effective justice systems depend not only on the vigor of prosecutions but also on strict adherence to procedural safeguards, without which the legitimacy of such prosecutions should be brought into question.

In Veliaj’s case, for example, SPAK has barred him from communication with the public. Criticisms have also been levied against the prosecution for violating the principle of equality of arms, a core judicial standard according to which all parties must have equal procedural opportunities, including access to evidence. The balance of power between prosecutors, judges, and defendants within Albania’s evolving justice system is thus brought into question.

Albania’s reliance on pretrial detention has drawn criticism from the U.S. State Department, the European Court of Human Rights, and United Nations torture prevention experts. NGOs have similarly warned about structural imbalances that leave judges reluctant to challenge anti-corruption prosecutors.

Concerns have also been raised by regional leaders. The mayors of the B40 Balkan Cities Network, representing 76 municipalities across the region, recently issued a joint letter warning of a “dangerous trend” threatening local democracy. Citing both the European Convention on Human Rights and the Venice Commission’s October 2025 report, the mayors emphasized that pretrial detention of sitting elected officials must remain a measure of last resort.

Under Albanian law, consistent with prevailing standards across the EU and the U.S., detention before trial is intended to remain exceptional. The EU, considering Albania’s accession ambitions, has a clear interest in this. At the same time, the U.S. cannot simply distance itself from an institution it helped create. Successful judicial reforms must be judged through the way institutions can uphold accountability while preserving democratic liberties. For Albania, it must reconcile the need to fight longstanding corruption while maintaining an open and fair judicial system that is acceptable to the global community.

Luka Petrović is a political analyst of Balkan descent based in Germany, with a focus on the Western Balkans, international relations, and human rights. Luka has contributed research and analysis for major international NGOs, including Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), with a focus on human rights monitoring, minority protection, and conflict-affected communities in the Balkans. The views expressed are the author’s own.

Can the Balkans Fight Corruption Without Weakening Due Process? was originally published on Global Security Review.

Since the establishment of the Republic of Korea in 1948, the Korean Peninsula has experienced violent ideological strife, culminating in a war that claimed the lives of 10 percent of its people. The following decades were marked by authoritarian governments in the South and a cult-like regime in the North—cloaked in the guise of communism.

During authoritarian rule in South Korea, which was often characterized as a dictatorship, martial law was declared on several occasions to maintain law and order. It also served as a crucial mechanism in preparing for potential invasions by North Korea.

Martial law in South Korea refers to a legal framework under which the administrative and judicial powers of the state are transferred to a military commander. This extraordinary measure is stipulated under the Constitution of the Republic of Korea. It grants the president authority to declare martial law in circumstances of war, armed conflict, or other national emergencies of similar gravity. Its objective is to address military requirements or ensure public safety and order when normal governance is deemed inadequate.

Martial law is divided into two types: emergency martial law and security martial law. Emergency martial law grants the government sweeping powers, including the suspension of the warrant system, restrictions on freedom of the press, curbs on publication rights, limitations on assembly and association, and the overriding of civilian courts and government agencies.

These measures are intended to ensure swift and decisive action in times of crisis. When martial law is declared, the president must notify the National Assembly immediately. If the Assembly demands its termination through a majority vote, the president is legally obligated to comply. While the National Assembly retains legislative authority, there are exceptional cases where a military regime may temporarily assume control, particularly during a coup or other events that disrupt the constitutional order.

On December 3 at 10 p.m., President Yoon Suk-Yeol declared martial law. This marked the first time in 45 years that martial law was invoked in South Korea. President Yoon justified the decision by citing actions of the National Assembly and opposition party, which he claimed were paralyzing the judicial and administrative systems. Specifically, their pursuit of numerous impeachment motions against officials and ministers, coupled with a unilateral decision to reduce key public welfare and defense budgets for the coming year. Yoon specifically cited these actions as undermining the essential functions of the state.

President Yoon framed them as attempts to disrupt constitutional order and overthrow the liberal democratic system. He went so far as to label the National Assembly a “den of criminals,” warning that the nation was in a “dire and precarious state.” To safeguard the liberal democratic system and protect citizens from North Korean communist forces and anti-state elements, he declared martial law, taking a step that would significantly escalate political tensions.

What followed was both alarming and puzzling. The Martial Law Commander was announced almost immediately, accompanied by a proclamation that limited civil liberties.

Troops were deployed to the National Assembly building, ostensibly to secure control, but the details of their mission remained unclear. Notably, the government refrained from taking control of broadcasting networks, implementing a curfew, or restricting internet access—measures that have traditionally been associated with martial law. This restraint raised questions about the intent and preparedness behind the declaration.

Within just two hours, 190 of the 300 National Assembly members gathered in an extraordinary session. Demonstrating remarkable decisiveness, they unanimously voted to overturn the martial law decision. The swift and unified response underscored the strength of South Korea’s democratic institutions, even under extraordinary pressure. The critical question that followed was whether President Yoon would adhere to this decision, given the volatile circumstances.

As of this writing, the democratic mechanisms appear to have prevailed. President Yoon complied with the Assembly’s decision, and the troops, whatever their initial directives may have been, refrained from any extreme actions. The system of checks and balances worked, averting what could be a prolonged and destabilizing crisis. This resolution highlights the resilience of South Korea’s democracy, even when tested under such dramatic circumstances.

The entire ordeal lasted only six hours, yet its implications are profound. It was bizarre, embarrassing, and politically damaging for the Yoon administration. The short-lived declaration of martial law raises significant questions about the president’s judgment, the advice he received, and the decision-making process within the government.

The absence of traditional martial law measures, such as media control or curfews, suggests either a miscalculation or an intent to avoid inflaming public outrage. Regardless, the political fallout will be severe and long-lasting.

This six-hour ordeal, while alarming, ultimately reaffirmed the strength of South Korea’s democratic systems. The National Assembly acted swiftly and decisively, and the president adhered to constitutional norms, ensuring the crisis did not escalate further.

However, the incident leaves lingering doubts about the future of the nation’s political climate and the ability of its leadership to navigate complex challenges. It will serve as a sobering case study in the delicate balance of power, the risks of executive overreach, and the resilience required to uphold democratic principles.

The “silver lining” of this affair is undeniable; the democratic system worked. Yet the political and reputational costs will shape South Korea’s discourse for months, if not years, to come. It is a stark reminder that democracy, though tested, must remain vigilant and steadfast in protecting its core values against both external and internal threats.

LTG (Ret.) Chun In-Bum was the commander of the Republic of Korea’s Special Forces Command. He is a Senior Fellow at the National Institute for Deterrence Studies. 

Six Hours of Crisis: Martial Law, Democracy, and Leadership in South Korea was originally published on Global Security Review.