South Korea is now known not only for its economic achievements and cultural exports but also for having the lowest birthrate in the world. This phenomenon isn't just a number—it reflects an entire generation's shifting values, anxieties, and systemic burdens. As a 24-year-old Korean, I find myself surrounded by people who don’t even consider marriage or children as viable life plans. It’s not because we don’t value love or family. It’s because reality—especially economic reality—makes those ideals feel distant. In this article, I will explore South Korea’s low birthrate crisis through a personal lens, combining facts, cultural analysis, and my own thoughts about why becoming a parent in this country feels so out of reach.
Korea’s Low Birthrate: The Alarming Numbers
South Korea’s total fertility rate hit a historic low of 0.72 in 2023, far below the replacement level of 2.1. This means the average Korean woman is expected to have less than one child in her lifetime. Government predictions suggest the population could halve within a century if the trend continues.
For over a decade, the government has poured trillions of won into countermeasures—cash incentives for births, subsidized daycare, parental leave policies, and more. But these measures, while helpful on paper, have had limited impact. Why? Because they don’t address the deeper reasons behind people’s reluctance to have children.
The Economic Wall: Why We Can’t “Afford” Children
In a country where housing prices in major cities are astronomical, youth unemployment is high, and regular employment is scarce, the idea of starting a family feels economically irrational.
From my perspective—and that of many around me—the biggest reason for avoiding marriage or children is simply this: I’m not even financially secure enough to support myself. Add to that the cost of raising a child in Korea, which involves heavy private education fees, medical costs, and intense societal pressure to provide “the best,” and the situation becomes impossible.
Even those with decent jobs struggle. One income is rarely enough, and even dual-income couples face burnout. The notion of taking a break for maternity or paternity leave sounds nice, but the reality is that many fear losing their job or falling behind permanently.
Media-Driven Ideals vs. Real-Life Limitations
A major part of the problem lies in expectations shaped by media and society. From K-dramas to commercials, we are shown a version of family life that is polished, cozy, and aspirational. But for most people, those images are unattainable.
Growing up, I didn’t think too much about getting married or having children. But I did absorb the idea that when I do, I should be "ready"—financially stable, with a good house, secure job, and emotional maturity. And with every passing year, that “ready” standard seems to climb higher.
In a sense, media hasn’t just failed to reflect reality—it has distorted it. Young people internalize these idealized expectations, and when their real lives don’t measure up, they feel inadequate. The result? They simply opt out of the race.
What It Takes to “Feel Ready” for Parenthood
When asked what would make me consider starting a family, my answer is simple: if I could at least take care of myself without anxiety.
If I could afford rent without stress, eat three meals a day without budgeting every snack, and have the mental energy left over after work to maintain a relationship—I might then feel open to marriage and even children.
But today, the threshold of self-sufficiency has risen dramatically. A generation ago, a small apartment and steady job might have been enough. Now, people are expected to offer their children private English lessons, international school dreams, and brand-name strollers before they’re even born.
The average young Korean today doesn’t reject parenthood because they’re selfish. They reject it because they know how much it costs to do it “right”, and they’d rather do nothing than do it wrong.
Global Comparison: How Korea’s Culture Intensifies the Pressure
It’s important to recognize that low birthrates are not unique to Korea. Japan, Italy, and even developed parts of China are facing similar challenges. But Korea’s situation is made worse by certain cultural traits:
- Education Fever: The intense competition for university admission and private tutoring begins before age 5.
- Status Anxiety: There’s constant pressure to appear “on track,” both financially and socially.
- Gender Role Rigidity: Despite modern appearances, Korean society still often expects women to prioritize family while men are the primary breadwinners.
In contrast, in many Western countries, parenthood can happen in more modest conditions. Renting is normal. Shared parenting is encouraged. Government systems often alleviate some of the pressure. While not perfect, they allow people to see family life as manageable, even joyful.
In Korea, however, parenthood is too often tied to perfection—and anything less feels like failure.
Conclusion: We’re Not Avoiding Family, We’re Avoiding Collapse
The narrative that young Koreans are selfish or immature for not wanting children is not just false—it’s unfair. Most of us grew up in families that emphasized sacrifice, stability, and success. We’re not turning away from those values. We’re just being honest about whether we can realistically uphold them.
I believe that if more young people could live securely, if we were allowed to pursue parenthood imperfectly—without shame or unrealistic benchmarks—we might make different choices.
Until then, we’re not rejecting family.
We’re just rejecting a system that sets us up to fail.