Walking around Seoul, I've noticed
fortune tellers dotted all over the city. Every time you pass one,
you see young people intently listening to what their future holds for them. It is estimated that
4 in 10 South Korean adults have gone to see a fortune teller, so I've decided to follow suit to understand the issues young
Koreans are seeking guidance on. Oh, no! This does not bode well. A lot of pressure. I think I'll have to switch jobs
if I want to do that. Seong Min-ah is a tarot card reader and is just one of an estimated
500,000 fortune tellers and shamans across Korea. This bodes well. Why do you think so many people
are coming to you for advice? South Koreans have higher
stress levels than the global average and have the highest suicide rate
in the developed world, above Japan and the US, in part due to the intense pressure they face to succeed. The dissatisfaction
has become so bad that it has birthed a controversial
new moniker for the country - "Hell Joseon". I'm Joi Lee.
I'm a journalist from the US, and I'm in South Korea
armed with my limited Korean to reconnect with the motherland. In this episode, I explore what it takes
to succeed here... I think it's inevitable
that dreams get smaller. Meet the people fighting
to change the system... And try to get to the bottom
of why these young people are likening life in modern-day Korea
to hell on Earth. The Joseon dynasty ruled Korea
for five centuries until its end in 1910. But today, young Koreans are using
the comparison to the fallen kingdom to describe the state of affairs here. From the outside, some might wonder what
South Koreans have to despair over. This small former
authoritarian, agricultural nation has transformed into
a prosperous democracy. So why do so many Koreans think
one of the most developed countries in Asia is a living hell? To understand where it begins, I need to head back to school. I've come to meet
three recent university graduates from the prestigious Yonsei University, one of three universities
collectively known as SKY and the equivalent to
the Ivy League schools in the US. We all major in
mechanical engineering, where we study the dynamics
of how machines work. That's amazing. To make it to the dizzying heights
of Yonsei University, the three of them had to battle
it out in the notorious "Suneung". A notoriously difficult
eight-hour marathon of back-to-back exams that students take
in their final year of high school, your Suneung score determines
which university you attend. It is taken so seriously
that every year in November, it brings the whole country
to a standstill, with shops shutting, construction halting, and even planes being grounded
to keep students from getting distracted during the biggest test of their lives. Is it very common
for students to retake the exam until they're happy with the results? Yes, it's actually very common. In my high school, almost 60-70%
of the students retook the exam. The three of us retook
the exam so...yeah. Many students will continue
to retake the exams year after year until they get the results they need
to get into their dream university. This usually involves enrolling
into a "hagwon" or "cram school", an industry worth $17 billion. In fact, these three students in front of me
spent a full year at a hagwon, studying 10 hours a day
to get that perfect score. It sounds intense but being
the proud school nerd that I am, I can't help but see
if I've got what it takes. I heard that the English part of the exam
is very difficult even for native speakers. -Not that easy, right?
-Yes... I'm very curious to test it out. -Shall we give it a try?
-Sure. Let's do this. To really get into character
and to set the scene, I've brought some
high school uniforms. I've never had to wear
a school uniform. So I feel, suddenly, like... I'm 10 years old. I'm really stressed out over this. Okay, so I heard for each question
you get 1.5 minutes. So we're going to do five questions
which means eight minutes. Okay. Ready? Go. 19. Korean students are first introduced
to English in primary school and then it becomes one of
their main subjects in high school with almost every university
requiring it for entry. 3 minutes 20 seconds. It's one thing to be tested on your
technical skills in another language, reciting verbs, stringing together simple sentences, but the test in front of me is testing
our comprehension and analytical skills. It's a challenge even for
a native speaker like myself. Yes. It's been so long since I've had
to do these kinds of things. It was quite difficult. This is in a foreign language. It's crazy that you guys
even take this at all. If I had to do a test in Korean,
I would get zero. Zero. Thankfully though,
it was in English and I nailed it! 100%. While the boys got
a couple of questions wrong, incredibly, Jung Hyun-jin,
who finished the test before me, also aced it. There's a theme for each problem
and it's repeated each year so if I'd done more exercises,
I would have been able to solve it faster. Korea is one of the most
highly educated countries in the world with 70% of young people
going on to university. One of the only ways young people
have to stand out from the pack is to have graduated
from a SKY university and with only the top 2%
of Korean students getting in, the competition is fierce. How do you think that pressure
has impacted your generation? Lee Jin-yong is not alone
in feeling like this. A 2018 report found that one in five people who are unemployed in South Korea are between 25 and 29 years old, the highest ratio in the developed world. The other day,
I was walking in the street and I saw a sign over
a hagwon that said, "This is a fun place to study.
It's where your dreams come true." But I feel that there are goals
that people have here: getting into the SKY universities, working at these big-name companies, but then, are these also the dreams
that young people have, or are they just goals? As I grew up, I think
my dreams became smaller and my goals became bigger. Because if I worked hard to enter
a university that I wanted to get into, the next step is to work hard
to get into a company that I want, and after that, it would be to find
the perfect someone to get married to. It doesnβt end with university. So I think itβs inevitable
that dreams get smaller. One whole year of your life. Can you imagine every single day,
maybe seven days a week, 10 hours a day studying
for an exam that you already took and probably did well enough
on the first round. I think probably a reckoning for them was to understand that
this is actually just another step, and a very long uphill path, to continue to try to become
successful by Korean standards. The burden of success has become
so great that in a recent survey, 1 in 3 Korean students polled said that they had thought about suicide
because of academic pressure, with anxiety about their future career cited as the second biggest reason. What happens to those who struggle
to succeed in this rigorous system? With so much emphasis being placed
on academic success in South Korea, life can be tough
for students who don't excel. But for those who either
don't fit into the system or simply want to opt out from it, there is another option. I've come to visit the alternative
education centre, Haja. Two decades ago,
schools like these were non-existent but now, it is estimated that around
999 alternative education centres are dotted around the country. The Haja Centre focuses on helping
children shape their own life plans and learn life skills in the process. I'm here to meet Lee Chung-han, the man in charge and
a lifelong youth advocate. In many ways, South Korea still lies in the shadows
of its former military dictatorship. The iron-fisted regimes
of the 70s and 80s tightly controlled what Koreans saw, read, heard, and even thought. Education was a central tool
in fostering obedience and some would argue
that the arduous schooling young Koreans are still subjected to
is a legacy of that period. But what happens when they
go out into the real world? The outside world.
What happens then? It gives me so much hope that
there are educators like Lee Chung-han, who not only recognises that
the system is not effective for all, but is actively working to find other ways
to equip the younger generation to survive modern-day Korea. With over 50,000 students
dropping out of school each year, it doesn't surprise me
that places like the Haja Centre are becoming more popular. And yet, there still seems to be a taboo
that goes along with alternative education. Many universities won't accept students
without the Korean SAT score. And even the government
does not recognise the majority of
alternative education centres. So how do the people who go here
feel about that societal judgement? An Sol has been enrolled
at Haja for the last year. Her mother, Baek Yeon-hi,
a private academy lecturer herself, made the decision for An Sol
to enrol in the Haja Centre after witnessing first-hand, the pitfalls
of mainstream Korean education. To build on that, do you ever worry
that this might be a risk or put them at a disadvantage? With young people like An Sol
being encouraged to march to the beat of their own drum, my hope is that they will be the ones
to shake the system up in the future. In the meantime,
young people here seem to be trapped in a constant competition
with everyone around them and very few actually
reap the rewards. With such intense pressure
for everyone to be exceptional, the end result is that
no one really can be. This has groomed a generation
of disillusioned youths and this disillusionment has become
a language unto itself. I've come to meet Kim Sungi, a researcher who's
spent the last eight years exploring the issues
affecting Korean youth and the phrases that have come
to define the generation. I feel that there have
been so many terms used to describe the younger
generations of Korea. Can you define these terms for me? "Sam-po generation"
was a term first coined in 2011. The phrase translates to
"three giving-up generation". It refers to the three things
the young generation has to give up due to increasing social pressures
and economic problems. These terms seem to hit at the centre
of the tensions here in South Korea, that success and privilege
go hand in hand. I'm eager to understand
what life is like here for those born without
the proverbial gold spoon. Unlike the so-called American dream, where anyone can pull themselves
up by their bootstraps, there is a tangible sense here
that people are trapped by the circumstances of their birth. So what is life like here
for those who find themselves at the bottom of the social ladder? I've come to Miryang,
four hours outside of Seoul, to have dinner with Lee Chung-yeub,
a middle-aged manual worker. He's treating me
to a Korean classic - ramyun. Instant ramyun noodles. Ramyun is the best. Lee Chung-yeub has become somewhat
of an Internet celebrity in recent years. He runs a popular YouTube channel
with over 125,000 subscribers, entitled, "Old Bachelor Living Alone." He is one of a reported nine million
single-person households in South Korea, a record high. It seems like so many people
are watching your videos, why do you think
these types of videos have resonated so much
with your audience? This is classic. With so much emphasis
put on social status here, I want to understand where this pressure
to climb the ladder comes from and how it affects people
like Lee Chung-yeub. Do you feel like you are suffering
from this Korean system? This inability to climb the social ladder
is also having an impact on the personal lives
of South Koreans. Lee Chung-yeub is by no means
alone in his singledom. Marriage rates in South Korea
have fallen to an all-time low. So how is it that Koreans, who have packaged and sold love
internationally in the form of K-dramas, have become
so disillusioned with marriage? I'm dropping in to one of the 1,600
matchmaking agencies in South Korea. Matchmaking is big business here, with the industry worth
a whopping $88 million. I've come to meet
Baik Ji-young from DUO, which claims to be the largest
dating agency in the country. 100% satisfaction guaranteed? Why has marriage been such
an important part of Korean culture? But unlike during
the Joseon dynasty, during the era of "Hell Joseon", remaining unmarried
is one of the core traits that has come to define the so-called
"sam-po" and "n-po generation". Here in Korea,
there is, of course, a word for those who choose
to remain unmarried - bihon. Its usage has increased sevenfold
on social media over recent years and, as my DUO matchmaker revealed, is most commonly
associated with women. I've come to meet the founders
of Bepyeong magazine, a publication dedicated
to embracing single life, to try to understand
what is motivating these women to make such a drastic decision. I feel the term bihon
is very unique to Korea. When people use the word bihon, does it come with any
negative connotations still? What is it about Korean society that has made so many people
reject the notions of marriage? With a generation of young people rejecting one of the central pillars
of Korean success, it's becoming evident that,
far from just youthful angst, the issues are deeply systemic. There is so much talk here
about how the younger generations are simply throwing in the towel, and yet on my journey,
every young person I have met is questioning and
challenging the status quo. Are young people really
just giving up on life? Or are they simply choosing
to opt out of a system that does not deliver
on its promises? I've come to the studios of Lunch, a band made up of
30-something-year-olds that captures the voice
of this generation. I've been hearing
a lot about these terms, What do you think about that? I'm trying to understand and get
a sense of how big class divides are here. From everything I've seen,
it seems like unless you have money, you can't reach success. Have you all heard
of this term, "Hell Joseon"? Do you think it's fair
that the 20, 30 generation has been labelled as "giving up"? It's just funny that
they can acknowledge that, there is an undeniable hardship that comes with being
a young person in this country because of this constant effort
that you keep having to put in, but the return and the reward
is just not worth it. For them, they're just like... "You know what? I'm not
even going to put in that effort." They have been able to,
essentially, liberate themselves from the expectations of society to create a space of
happiness and contentment. I think that's a very powerful thing. I'm curious if this liberation is widespread
enough to affect real systemic change. The image of Korea as "Hell Joseon"
has been further bolstered by the view that politicians in Korea
are out of touch and dishonest. A number of scandals and
accusations involving corruption, nepotism, and abuse has led to 68% of South Koreans
feeling pessimistic about the way
their political system works. Here in Seoul, the mayoral election
is right around the corner. Everywhere you go, the streets
are covered in posters and banners and there are several new, young faces
running on platforms not typically seen here. I've come to the campaign headquarters
of one such candidate. Shin Ji-hye is a 33-year-old feminist and the socially liberal
mayoral candidate for the newly-formed Basic Income Party. This universal basic income
they are proposing is a radical idea and one that has not been achieved
anywhere else in the world. Fellow party member, Yong Hye-in,
joins the discussion. At just 31, she is the floor leader and
their only member of the National Assembly. With 81% of the National Assembly
being men and the majority of them in their 50s, these women aren't your
typical South Korean politicians. Do you feel politics has failed
this younger generation so far? Since its democratic transition in 1987, South Korea's political system
has been dominated by two parties - the People Power Party, and the Democratic Party of Korea, that are currently in power
under President Moon Jae-in. This universal basic income
is not something that's been achieved
in any other country. What do you say to people
who say that this is unrealistic? Another term I have heard
a lot is "Hell Joseon". How do you feel about this term? Do you agree with it? When you look at politicians like
Shin Ji-hye and Yong Hye-in, I think what you see is, the face of politics moving forward. All these young people, who have been
so disenfranchised by Korean society, are finding ways to mobilise
and channel their frustrations into a very viable and potentially
very powerful political force and it is the thing
that does give me hope. I feel for young Koreans and I'm saying that
with a full understanding that I will never really
get what it means to have grown up in such
a pressure-filled society. But I do think that
there are very real problems that society has to grapple with. Far from being just
a few disgruntled teens, the notion of "Hell Joseon"
seems to be a very real struggle. There is an entire generation who,
far from giving up, are desperately trying to find their place
in modern-day South Korea. Some of the conversations I've had
felt really devastating, and throws me into
an existential crisis thinking, "Oh my god, how are we going
to move forward from this?" But, of course, I have faith. Koreans are doing something about it. There are so many young people
who are stepping up and saying enough is enough. And seeing that is very inspiring. I don't think hell stands
a chance against them. Captions: Christina Toh, Mediacorp Pte Ltd
What other options do students have in Korea? Based on data from 2019, 64 of South Korea's chaebols (family-run conglomerates like Samsung, Hyundai, SK Group, LG, etc...) make up 84% of Korea's GDP while accounting for only 10% of the jobs available.
Without a degree from one of the SKY universities (SNU, KU, Yonsei) or a foreign degree from the Ivy Leagues, you don't even have a chance at getting an interview with these companies.
So what do you do if you fail at the CSATs, can't make it into one of these universities, and realize that your life has been decided for you even before you graduate high school? With mounting pressure from family, friends, and society, suicide is an easier path for many Korean students.
The seemingly simple fix would be to reduce the influence that chaebols have on the Korean economy, but how do you do that when the only reason Korea has gone from a war-torn peninsula to one of the most developed countries in the world is because of chaebols themselves (Samsung, Hyundai, Daewoo) and consequently, have a huge influence on the blue house? It's a catch-22 for Korea and until they figure out how to change the status quo, it's going to continue (not to mention that low-birth rates are going to continually put pressure on the economy even further as time passes).
Koreans that come to Serbia to open businesses have reputation to be very heartless and cruel employers, requiring production line workers to wear dipers if they want relief during their shift. No toilet breaks...
But if you consider the parasite and squid games are most popular fiction, the reality is probably pretty distopic.
Iβve studied Thai at language schools in Bangkok over the last 7 years. The student make up has changed in that time from like 75% white people to 90% Koreans. All these Korean people that just want out and open up a business in Thailand to get out.
Not surprising at all. Climbing the social ladder is impossible ( once poor always poor) working conditions that are close to slavery. A education system that decides your live at 18...if you screwed up there is no way back etc pp.....
I used to teach in Korea and it was insane the amount of hours the kids spent after school with tutors. They were in school from 8am-10pm, I felt terrible for them b/c they looked so miserable.
I study subways. Full Platform screen doors were installed on every platform of the The Seoul metropolitan subway in some record amount of time back in the early 2010s. These are crazy expensive. When I learned this, the magnitude of their suicide problem was revealed to me in a whole other way.
Oh alright, you've convinced me. I'll start a non-profit suicide cult.
But society needs all types of people not just academics/ professionals- surely there are βblue collarβ jobs, trades that Korea needs? It feels like itβs either exceptional university = good job vs ? What? Poverty?
Also worse work hours than Japan