Pragmatism vs power: Why Lee Jae-myung can’t pivot toward Beijing

On the eve of China’s 3 September military parade commemorating the victory in the War of Resistance against Japan, South Korean President Lee Jae-myung embarked on visits to Japan and the US. This diplomatic move has been widely interpreted as a deliberate avoidance of the parade.

It had earlier been reported that Beijing invited Lee to attend the ceremony, but under pressure from Washington, Lee declined and instead sent the speaker of the National Assembly. Inevitably, this will be seen as a setback to Beijing’s attempt to court South Korea’s new administration, and also as an indication that Lee’s “pragmatic diplomacy” faces significant real-world constraints.

When Lee took office in May, he proposed a “pragmatic diplomacy principle”, stressing that South Korea’s foreign policy should be guided by national interests rather than ideology or bloc confrontation, in contrast to Yoon Suk-yeol’s foreign policy. Yoon’s overt alignment with the US and Japan, combined with deliberate distancing from China, had pushed bilateral ties to their lowest point since normalisation. 

Progressives in South Korea were deeply dissatisfied, seeing this as contrary to national interests, and Lee, as opposition leader, had been critical as well. Therefore, after his election, many observers — including myself — believed he would adjust foreign policy to some degree, particularly regarding North Korea and China.

Yet from his actions since taking office, including this trip, it has become evident that while Lee may harbour the intention to improve ties with Beijing, the constraints he faces at home and abroad are formidable. He is almost certain to be confined to limited, symbolic adjustments rather than any fundamental reset in Seoul-Beijing relations.

Lee’s “pragmatic diplomacy principle” initially sparked considerable expectations. Traditionally, progressive governments in South Korea have emphasised balance and autonomy in foreign policy. Under Moon Jae-in, Seoul sought to maintain manoeuvring space between Washington and Beijing, attempting to repair relations damaged by the THAAD missile defence deployment under his predecessor.

Against the backdrop of relations hitting new lows over issues such as THAAD’s expansion, the “Chip 4” alliance, US export controls on China and statements on Taiwan, Lee’s pragmatic posture was interpreted as a sign he would try to mend fences with Beijing and reduce the economic costs of confrontation.

Yet reality has turned out to be far harsher than many anticipated. Beijing’s invitation to Lee to attend the 80th anniversary parade should have been a chance to improve ties. As the leader of a country that also endured Japanese colonial rule, there was little psychological barrier for him to attend. 

Ten years ago, conservative President Park Geun-hye ignored US pressure and came to Beijing for a similar parade, and Lee himself has been critical of Japan on historical issues. Yet with Washington making clear it did not want the South Korean president appearing too close to China in such a symbolic setting, Lee ultimately chose not to go.

This was a pragmatic compromise in the face of reality. He fully understands the significance of such an appearance for repairing ties with Beijing, but under the constraints of the US alliance, he simply could not take the risk.

Even the order of diplomatic communication carries symbolic weight. After his election, Lee’s first calls with foreign leaders went to Washington and then Tokyo, with Beijing placed last. This mirrored Yoon Suk-yeol’s practice and diverged sharply from the earlier sequence of “US-China-Japan”.

Even though his current trip puts Japan before the US, breaking past custom, this does not suggest Japan outweighs the US in Seoul’s diplomacy. Rather, it shows that China is no longer in the top tier of Seoul’s strategic priorities.

In diplomacy, sequence is a signal. What this signals is that South Korea’s strategic calculus has fundamentally shifted, and Lee cannot reverse it. His pragmatic diplomacy has, in practice, been forced to yield to institutional inertia and the pressures of the external environment.

Nowhere is Lee’s dilemma clearer than in relations with Japan. Issues of “comfort women” and forced labour are deeply sensitive in South Korea, tied not only to history but also to national sentiment. While in opposition, Lee had taken a hard line, repeatedly criticising Yoon for his compromises. Yet on the eve of his trip to Japan, he declared that he would maintain existing agreements, arguing that “commitments between nations must be continuous” or else South Korea would lose international trust. This about-face is almost an irony of his pragmatic diplomacy: pragmatism here no longer means fighting for national justice, but rather bowing to international commitments and political realities.

This compromise toward Japan is also evident in his economic proposals. Lee has not only called for expanding Korea-Japan economic cooperation, but also floated the idea of using the “Arctic shipping route” as a new platform for multilateral cooperation, including the US, Japan, Russia and even North Korea. Notably absent from this vision is China.

Yet the Arctic route is of great importance to Beijing, which has actively sought to participate and sees it as the northern extension of the Belt and Road. That Lee excluded China — deliberately or otherwise — cannot be seen as a mere oversight. It reflects sensitivity to the current chill in Seoul-Beijing relations. He clearly wishes to avoid giving any impression of leaning toward China, which would immediately provoke suspicion in Washington and Tokyo and potentially incur strategic costs.

On the issue of the Korean peninsula, Lee’s “three-stage denuclearisation proposal” tells a similar story. At first glance, it appears different from Yoon’s hard line of “denuclearisation first, cooperation later”. It advocates freezing, then reducing, and finally eliminating North Korea’s nuclear arsenal — a more gradual and pragmatic approach. But upon closer inspection, Lee emphasises that this plan must be pursued in close coordination with the US, serving as the basis for restarting inter-Korean dialogue.

In other words, his seemingly novel proposal remains firmly embedded within the US-ROK alliance framework. This framework sidelines China. Without China’s active involvement, such a plan is unlikely to gain traction, yet Lee’s articulation clearly minimises Beijing’s role. Here again is his dilemma: he seeks to showcase pragmatic differences, but cannot cross Washington’s red lines.

It is for this reason that expectations of Lee as a “course corrector” will likely prove misplaced. His constraints are structural, not personal, and they sharply narrow the room for manoeuvre.

First, security dependence on the US alliance is entrenched. North Korea’s nuclear threat forces Seoul to rely on American extended deterrence, while trilateral mechanisms with Washington and Tokyo, strengthened under Yoon, further tie South Korea to the US security framework, leaving scant space for independent adjustment.

Second, the economy is caught in dual reliance. South Korea’s semiconductor industry is indispensable globally but rests heavily on US technology, markets, and capital, even as China remains its largest trading partner and a critical link in its supply chains. Under mounting US export controls and “friend-shoring”, shifting back toward Beijing would be extremely costly.

Third, domestic politics and bureaucratic inertia weigh heavily. A broad consensus on the US alliance, rising anti-China sentiment, and the business sector’s demand for predictability reinforce the path dependency of the foreign and security bureaucracy, discouraging bold departures.

Finally, external structural pressures dominate. Intensifying US-China rivalry and Washington’s expanding regional security architecture raise the risks of any visible “pro-China” turn.

Together, these constraints mean Lee’s pragmatic diplomacy will amount to surface-level differences, not substantive departures from Yoon’s line. Lee still has nearly five years in office. For Seoul-Beijing relations, the critical test ahead will be South Korea’s position on Taiwan.

During Yoon’s presidency, US-ROK statements repeatedly mentioned “peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait”, which Beijing found intolerable and repeatedly protested. According to reports, during Lee’s visits to Japan and the US, neither the joint communique with Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba nor his meeting and press conference with President Donald Trump made any public reference to Taiwan. This seems deliberate, an effort to avoid provoking Beijing.

If Seoul continues to refrain from gratuitous statements on Taiwan, bilateral relations may steer clear of crossing Beijing’s bottom line, and major turbulence could be avoided in the coming years.

Much as Joe Biden could not reverse Donald Trump’s China policy, Lee Jae-myung, too, finds himself bound by the same logic. He himself may genuinely wish to use pragmatism to chart a new course, but caught in the crosscurrents of great-power rivalry, what he can do is merely maintain a fragile balance, not change direction.

For him, improving relations with China is not something that can be achieved by personal will, but is constrained by structural conditions. He may be able to strike a different tone on certain issues, and create limited space for cooperation in specific areas. Yet to truly reshape Seoul-Beijing relations, and to translate “pragmatic diplomacy” into substantive policy change toward China, will remain an exceedingly difficult road.

Related: A partnership with limits: Lee Jae-myung’s China reset | The outlook for Korean diplomacy under Lee Jae-myung