[WHY] Why young Koreans don't lift a finger or leave the nest

 
Young Koreans nowadays are more frequently labeled a “finger prince” or “finger princess.”
 
Ping-peu tribe is the slang term used to describe people that fall under this particular category, referring to those who won’t lift a finger, relying on others to search for information or carry out duties for them.
 
And for the youth, the others are the people closest to them, such as their parents.
 
Rumor has it that rookie employees call up their parents because they don’t know how to use the copy machine. The parents, in turn, call up university professors about what to do if their adult child misses a class.
 
A recent photograph that went viral online proved this rumor to be true.
 

A photograph taken at a university featuring words "Inquiries related to the school should be done by the students themselves, not the parents!" [SCREEN CAPTURE]

 
A picture titled “University these days” showed a TV display with the following message: “Inquiries related to the school should be done by the students, not the parents!”
 
Under the bolded font, in smaller letters, it read: “We believe in the power of one’s strength to accomplish their own tasks.”
 
The comments section was flooded with stories about spotting these finger princes and princesses out in the wild.
 
“It’s not a lie — I saw one when a parent called the company to say that their child [the employee] will be coming in late because he slept in, at 2 p.m.,” one comment read.
 
Another said, “I saw a question online asking if they could go into the college interview with their parents.”
 
A university staff based in Seoul, who wished to remain anonymous, confirmed with the journalist that the influence of students’ parents is spreading across campuses.
 
“I’ve heard from other departments that some parents go so far as to create their children’s timetable for them,” he said. “Since they don’t know about the school system, the parents call the academic affairs office and ask them how to do it.
 
“The parents even call the departments about what to do if their child misses a class, claiming that they were sick.”
 
Seoul-based universities such as Ewha Women's University, Kyung Hee University and Hanyang University have even created a portal site for parents where they can access their children’s grades.
 
“I believe such sites were created because the school staff received so many calls from parents inquiring about their children’s grades,” the academic staff said.
 
So the ultimate question we have arrived at is: why have young Koreans become such princes and princesses?
 
 
Monster Parents
The ping-peu tribe phenomenon, which gained traction around the early 2010s, became prevalent around the same time the terms “tiger mom” and “monster parent” became widespread.
 
Hence, these ping-peu adult babies are the result of such parents who would do anything for their children, so that they can focus on the one thing that matters above all — studying.
 
Korea’s overly heated education atmosphere and related cases are globally recognized by anyone interested in the country. It has been countlessly singled out as a serious social problem in media as well, portrayed on television series such as “SKY Castle” (2018-19), “High Class” (2021-22), “Green Mothers’ Club” (2022) and “Crash Course in Romance” (2023).
 
Korea ranks No. 1 among OECD countries for having the highest proportion of tertiary education graduates, with 70 percent in 2022, followed by Canada and Japan.
 

Share of people with tertiary education in OECD countries in 2022 [OECD]

 
Kim Hyun-soo, a psychiatrist at Myongji Hospital and the author behind “The Birth of Monster Parents in South Korea,” says that these monster parents are the direct result of Korea’s academic craze.
 
“In eastern society, what defines success ultimately boils down to one’s level of education,” Kim said. “And in Asia, this duty of giving one's children a high-quality education falls to the mothers, who are fully dedicated to controlling their children’s academic lives, while Asian fathers, often patriarchal and focused on their work life, fall out of the picture.” 
 
“In Korea, there’s a popular saying that a child's success is based on three factors: the mother’s information, the father’s indifference and the grandparents’ wealth. This is no longer a joke, but the reality that we’re living in now.”
 

A joey emerging from the pouch of its mother [AFP/YONHAP]

 
More young Koreans join the “kangaroo tribe”
Another label often tagged on young Koreans these days is “kangaroo tribe,” the Korean slang term referring to those who shun economic activities even after finishing school, choosing instead to depend on their parents for their livelihood, similar to joeys that cling on to the snugness of their mothers’ pouches.
 
As of now, the kangaroo tribe also encompasses those who are employed but continue to live with their parents due to financial circumstances.
 
While the ping-peu tribe label has been slapped onto young Koreans with scathing criticism, people are more indulgent when it comes to the kangaroo tribe.
 
Approximately six out of 10 young Koreans believe that they are part of the “kangaroo tribe,” according to a report released by the Office for Government and Policy Coordination in March.
 
The government report surveyed 15,000 households between July and August last year, including young Koreans aged between 19 and 34.
 
According to the survey, 57.5 percent of the youngsters currently live with their parents, and 67.5 percent of them said that they do not have immediate plans to move out of their parents’ homes. The No. 1 reason that they remain financially dependent on their parents is because “their financial conditions are not yet appropriate” to live independently. This and the need to save up money spent on basic living expenses, took up 56.6 percent of the answers retrieved from the respondents.
 
One-person households took up 22.6 percent of the total, and among them, only 11.5 percent said that they own a home.
 
The proportion of respondents who live with their parents around the capital area, at 59.7 percent, was higher compared to those who live outside of that range, at 55 percent.
 
A 29-year-old surnamed Jung has never lived outside of her parent’s nest, but she’s been feeling the urge to move out for the past several years due to differing lifestyle patterns and privacy issues.
 
“My parents and I have very different schedules,” Jung said. “It’s fine on weekdays when I have to get up early for work anyway, but it’s different on the weekends when I want to sleep in or meet up with my friends. They like to check my whereabouts and want me to report back to them if I come in late, which can be a bit of a hassle.”
 
Her plan to gain independence continues to get delayed, however, due to a fundamental reason: She has no money. She became fully employed last year, and she views this period as the time to save up whatever money she can, not to spend it on expensive rent.
 
“I have thought about living on my own by getting a loan for a jeonse [a type of housing rental system in Korea where a tenant pays a large lump-sum payment for a long-term lease] deposit or paying monthly rent, but considering the high interest rates, it is only rational that I stay with my parents if I seriously want to save up some money,” she continued. 
 
“Plus, I have an old dog to look after that I'm responsible for. It’s difficult enough as it is to find a residence which is economical, nevermind one that also allows animal companions.”
 

A picture of apartment complexes situated in Seoul on Nov. 12, 2023. [YONHAP]

 
According to the March report, the houses that young Koreans resided in, including the ones owned by their parents, was valued at 529.7 million won ($410,000) on average. It was 38.7 percent higher for property around the capital area, valued at 734.8 million won.
 
The average housing price for one-person households was 318.5 million won, and 400 million won for those around the capital area.
 
One-person households spent more than 60 percent of their income on basic living expenses. The average monthly living expense was 1.61 million won, while the average monthly wage before paying taxes was 2.52 million won.
 
Technically, these youngsters had less than 1 million won to save after paying for their expenses.
 
Their average annual income was 21.62 million won and they had debt of 11.72 million won per person.
 
Under the premise that the person was free of debt, they would have to fully save up for some 15 years without spending a penny to acquire a place of their own.
 
 
Returning to the kangaroo tribe
A 25-year-old surnamed Song who commutes daily to work from Ilsan, northern Gyeonggi to Gangnam, southern Seoul — traveling more than an hour each way stuck in a subway car crammed with people — misses the good old days when she used to live in Gangnam, in the heart of the capital, in an officetel, or a studio apartment, with her older sister. Her sister took care of the rent and the place was big enough for two of them to live together. But things changed when her sister got a job overseas. With her sister gone and Song just starting out in her new job, her wage was nowhere enough to take care of the rent which took up more than half of her income. Her only option left was to move back into her parent’s house in Ilsan.
 
“I’ve definitely become more frugal after I moved back into my parents’ home,” Song said. “I make fewer plans with friends who live in Seoul because of the distance, and the money spent on little things like everyday meals, is saved by being economical."
 
Psychiatrist Kim believes that young Koreans now have higher expectations when it comes to acquiring their own place — whether it is for independence or marriage — which is why they choose to live with their parents for as long as they can until they have to move out.
 
“Sociologists say that true independence is only achieved when an adult gains autonomy in finances, relationships and accommodation,” Kim said. “In this era of high competition and polarized society, young Koreans will find that they lack the conditions for independence and marriage, to the point that marriage has become an extravagance that only a certain privileged class can enjoy, with the ‘appropriate’ job and housing. That is why young people choose to stay in their parents’ homes as long as they can, so that they can save the money for their independence or marriage.”
 
 
What do the parents think?
Unlike the West where children are expected to move out of their parent’s house when they reach adulthood, Korean society is much more lenient when it comes to a child's independence — though it’s under the premise that their children are saving up their money for marriage and will leave the home when they say “I do.”
 
A 64-year-old mother surnamed Yun with a 36 year-son who works as a social worker openly admits that it's okay for her son to live under her roof because it’s assumed that he will move out once he marries.
 
“I believe that the relationship we as parents have with our son is comfortable because we’ve lived with him for so long — and there was never any trouble regarding our life patterns” she said. 
 
“We’ve never found a need for him to be independent. Of course, we would allow him to be if he wants it, but since he would move away after he marries, I think it’s okay to let him to be as long as he’s part of our family.”
 
A 51-year-old mother surnamed Park has a 23-year-old daughter and they still live together, but have no problem doing so — she would even stop her daughter from moving out, she says.
 
“I don’t believe that my daughter finds it uncomfortable to live with her family since we [the parents] pretty much do all the household chores and takes care of her meals,” Park said. “Since she is our only child, we don’t find it particularly burdensome financially to take care of her. Unlike the past, parents in contemporary society have fewer kids that they need to be taken care of, and we are open to concentrating that economic support on fewer kids. We are happy with our child being a part of this ‘kangaroo tribe’ unless it is mandatory for them to leave our homes to be near their jobs or when they marry.”
 
Seoul National University Professor Jin Mi-jeong of child development and family studies contemplates that this phenomenon will intensify further as people have fewer children. For those that do, all of the family's financial resources will become concentrated on that one child.
 
“Experts define this as ‘1 child 8 pockets,’ when the child is the only offspring that derives not only from a set of parents, but their maternal and paternal grandparents, and aunts and uncles,” Jin said in a recent interview uploaded on Seoul National University's YouTube channel. 
 
“This family tree has only one child to take care of, with all of the financial and emotional resources pooled into that one youngster.”
 
“On the other hand, however, there are families that cannot provide that for their children,” Jin said. “The polarization of families has already dawned upon us.”
 

BY LEE JAE-LIM [lee.jaelim@joongang.co.kr]