⑦ The addiction story of a National Assembly aide - 경향신문

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Liberty Korea Party (predecessor of the People Power Party) lawmakers block entry by occupying the area in front of a National Assembly conference room where the Special Committee on Judicial Reform was scheduled to meet on the evening of April 26, 2019. Kyunghyang Shinmun file photo

In April 2019, at the height of the Fast-Track clashes in the National Assembly, Juho (40, pseudonym) was engaged in a physical struggle in front of the Bill Office on the 7th floor of the National Assembly building. The pushing and shoving between those trying to block and those trying to break through was fierce. The standoff dragged on for days. Juho had to eat and sleep at the National Assembly for four days. He worked as an aide in the office of a lawmaker.

Prosecutorial reform was the biggest political issue in 2019 as well. The Democratic Party sought to place on the Fast-Track a bill to swiftly establish the Corruption Investigation Office for High-ranking Officials and to adjust the investigative powers of prosecutors and police. The Liberty Korea Party (now the People Power Party) opposed the creation of the Corruption Investigation Office for High-ranking Officials. Its lawmakers, aides, and party staff occupied places such as the National Assembly’s Bill Office to block the bill’s submission. There were violent clashes with members of the Democratic Party trying to break through the blocked doors.

It was the return of the ‘animal National Assembly’ after seven years. A pry bar (crowbar), hammers, and a nail puller appeared, and people who were injured or exhausted were carried to hospitals. Lawmakers went home once the TV cameras left, but aides and party staff had to guard the National Assembly day and night. When night fell, Juho lay his body down on a cot. In the very center of diseased politics, the body and mind of Juho wore out.

I first met Juho in 2025. As with many people with addiction, Juho did not appear to have any drug problem at all. He was warm and quietly helpful to those around him. While living in a community of people with addiction, whenever there was a heavy load to move, an item to find, or an errand to run, he always said without hesitation, “I will do it.” When Yeo-jin was struggling with the court schedule of Mina (See Part ①), Juho, without many words, drafted and submitted a request to change the hearing date. He even drove three hours round-trip to encourage Mina in the detention center. After that long drive, the time allowed for a meeting was merely ten minutes.

Juho had been a model student who did well in both academics and sports. Adults especially favored him because he was obedient and diligent. He went to college and found a job without much difficulty. He had lived without major upheaval, but it was hard to picture exactly what kind of person he wanted to become. Then he had the chance to work as an aide in a lawmaker’s office. The work was grueling, but it was rewarding and enjoyable. He felt great pride and a sense of duty working on the front line of lawmaking. After a hard day, going with the office colleagues to see the sea, and sharing a sense of camaraderie by venting about the ‘old man’ on the beach, remained a fond memory for Juho.

Meanwhile, a tumor was growing in Juho’s abdomen. During an endoscopy, a tumor measuring 4㎝ in length was found. The doctor said that if left alone, it could have become cancer. Juho underwent open surgery. It was a major operation that required a sizable incision. It was incredibly fortunate it was found before it was too late. Juho felt grateful too. But when he tried to return to the National Assembly after surgery, his body was not the same as before. He kept lagging and felt pain. Tasks he had handled easily before now felt overwhelming and irritating. A month of medical leave was far too short for Juho to recharge his worn-out body and mind. Yet the National Assembly was not a place that waited generously for people. Juho decided to push himself so as not to burden his colleagues.

Even amid the Fast-Track clash, Juho shuttled back and forth to the constituency to attend to the lawmaker. A lawmaker who only got up if the secretary woke him in person; a lawmaker who had to have a ‘sunny-side-up’ fried egg on the breakfast table; a lawmaker who lost his temper if there was no salted seafood side dish…. Compared with such lawmakers, Juho said the one he served “was not bad.”

However, his pledge was to commute daily from a constituency two hours from Seoul. At dawn, he had to drive out to pick up the lawmaker. He could not fall into deep sleep. “I deliberately did not go to the nap room in the Members’ Office Building. If I sleep too soundly, I cannot wake up.” So Juho always slept on the office cot. There were days he drove drowsy. “I often thought I might really die like this.” Not long after surgery, his body had no day free from tension. Juho became increasingly depressed. He thought of quitting everything, and at times, of dying. Even so, the sense of responsibility lodged inside him kept telling him to endure.

Not wanting to live yet feeling obliged to endure. Life at the National Assembly could not continue in such a contradictory state. Juho was at his limit. To get through this, he came to think he needed ‘stimulants.’ He had to be able to work without getting tired on less sleep. The National Assembly’s day started earlier and ended later than anywhere else. He searched Google for days for information. Telegram chatroom-type information flowed readily, Juho said. With his mind already fixed on stimulants as the answer, ‘philopon’ caught his eye.

By nature, Juho was very curious and, when curious, he tried things for himself. Above all, he had lost his former self. “Looking back, it was crazy. I think I needed an escape route at the time.” To Juho, philopon looked like a magic potion that would carry him through an unbearable time. It was some day in the fall of 2019.

Had he known exactly what the drug was, he would never have done it. There was only an attraction; Juho lacked the information he needed to know. Korean society had yet to experience the drug problem in full force. He knew it was not easy to quit, but that was as far as his knowledge went. He thought he would be different. Nowadays, hardly anyone does not know the ‘drop-off method,’ but when Juho bought drugs, the seller and buyer still set a time and place and met in person to exchange money and goods. A dealer even drove two hours to meet Juho. He wondered why they went that far. Looking back, it was profitable business. A customer who buys once almost inevitably becomes a loyal customer. And so a syringe went into his arm.

The first use. After buying the drug, he left it for days because he did not know what to do with it. He decided to find people who used and try it together. Of course it felt good, but it was not to the point of “I cannot live without this.” Rather, he thought, “I will not need to do more now.” It seemed like a drug to use only occasionally when things were too hard. Even with a small amount, his mind was alert enough, so he gave the remainder to others.

It was delusion and arrogance. Even after returning to daily life, the drug dominated Juho’s thoughts. When meeting friends, while driving, even at the National Assembly… it kept coming to mind. Now that he knew how to do it, Juho started using on his own.

Two months after his first use, Juho was arrested. He was unlucky. Many people use for ten or twenty years without getting caught. That luck was not Juho’s. To investigators, Juho’s status as a National Assembly aide was a kind of windfall. An article came out as well. ‘Incumbent National Assembly aide booked by police on suspicion of philopon use… caught while trying to buy via drop-off’. The National Assembly, which Juho had somehow tried to endure, instantly became his former workplace. He received six months in prison, suspended for two years. A ‘red line’ was drawn on his record.

Once he was cast out from the place he had fought desperately to remain, what followed was endless emptiness. Emptiness swallowed Juho whole. “For a few days I was in a daze. But once that happened, I felt there was no reason not to use. I think my mindset was, ‘Then I will just do a lot of drugs.’ I kept doing it. I did it recklessly.” During the suspension period, he was arrested by police again. The diligent model student and faithful aide, Juho, ended up behind bars. Was that the end? After release, Juho used again. Drugs relentlessly ruin people, and prison is not effective for quitting. Within two years, he went back behind bars. He came out a few days after the 12·3 emergency martial law.

In 2019, what Juho needed was not philopon but comfort and rest. Now he can see how pitiable and precarious he was seven years ago. Juho said he thought of himself as “a mentally healthy person, and that I had to be one,” and that “the pride and self-respect in that actually became poison.” The most ruined thought was this: “I think I had been oddly steeped in the political scene’s water back then. The illusion that I had become something, too. I thought I would not get caught, and even if I did, if I pulled strings well, I could get out once. Nonsensical thinking.”

Juho has been abstinent for nearly a year. After calmly unfolding the story of his past, he said, “I think my story shows well how ordinary people like me can slip into addiction without even realizing it. I hope it helps.”

The [Those Who Quit] series can be found at https://www.khan.co.kr/series/articles/as432. You can also access it via the QR code below.

※This project was supported by the Press Promotion Fund created from government advertising commissions.