The predictable habits of Korean middle-aged men

Home > Opinion > Meanwhile

The predictable habits of Korean middle-aged men

Published: 02 Jul. 2025, 00:05

Audio report: written by reporters, read by AI

Kim Dong-ryul

The author is a professor at Sogang University.

On the streets and behind the wheel, middle-aged Korean men often fall into familiar routines. One common sight: eyes fixed on their phones, scrolling endlessly through KakaoTalk group chats. The content is usually the same — recycled anecdotes, mostly military tales, layered with bravado and selective memory.

Everyone, it seems, served on the front lines. Stories abound of catching a white snake at a guard post and boiling it in a mess tin to earn favor with a commanding officer — and a few days off-duty. Others recount slipping through a breach in the wire to grab a drink, returning just before dawn roll call. In reality, many of these men were neighborhood reservists, their postings far from the DMZ. A former colleague often told dramatic tales after a drink or two. Only later did I learn he never left his local base.

An elderly man eats a simple meal of porridge in an alley near Tapgol Park in central Seoul. According to the “2025 Korea Sustainable Development Goals (SDG) Implementation Report” released by the National Statistical Office on March 24, Korea’s relative poverty rate among the retirement-age population (aged 66 and over) reached 39.8 percent in 2023 — the highest among the 38 member countries of the OECD. The figure rose by 0.1 percentage point from the previous year. [NEWS1]

They’re also active in comment sections, posting frequently, though rarely meaningfully. Even trying to exit a group chat isn’t simple. KakaoTalk’s new “leave quietly” feature helps, but someone always notices. A flood of texts follows: “Why leave? Just mute the chat.” Eventually, most stay — muted but still present.

One of the greatest fears for Korean men in their 50s and 60s is losing their business card. In Korea, a name card is more than a contact detail — it’s a symbol of identity and professional value. That’s why many print new cards after retirement, attaching honorary titles from obscure associations to maintain a sense of status. Without it, many feel they’ve disappeared.

Senior pedestrians stroll near Tapgol Park in central Seoul on Friday. [NEWS1]

These men have lived, as the movie "Art of Fighting" (2006) puts it, “like they were about to burst.” But retirement brings sudden loss — of purpose, connection and place. Friends fade, invitations stop. Without substantial assets, even hobbies like golf become inaccessible. Eventually, life shrinks to a few daily walks around the neighborhood, while social isolation deepens.

Though they may live in expensive apartments, their world often narrows to silence — a quiet sadness shared by a generation who once lived with relentless drive, now struggling with irrelevance.

Translated from the JoongAng Ilbo using generative AI and edited by Korea JoongAng Daily staff.