The streets of Seoul tell a story that numbers alone can’t capture. Last month, I watched as thousands of young men gathered in Gwanghwamun Square, their anger palpable as they protested what they called “reverse discrimination” in government policies. Just two days later, in the same location, women’s rights advocates assembled in nearly equal numbers, demanding protection from what they describe as a rising tide of misogyny.
This visual juxtaposition reflects a deepening gender divide that has transformed South Korea’s political landscape. The nation once primarily focused on economic development and security concerns now finds itself entangled in one of the most divisive culture wars in East Asia.
“What we’re seeing isn’t just policy disagreement,” explains Dr. Jiyoung Song, professor of political science at Yonsei University, during our interview at her campus office. “It’s a fundamental conflict about national identity and gender roles that cuts across generational and ideological lines.”
The statistics paint a stark picture. According to recent Korea Social Trends data, 79% of South Korean men in their twenties believe gender discrimination against men is a serious problem, while 83% of women in the same age group report experiencing gender-based discrimination in their daily lives.
The gender divide has become an electoral powerhouse. President Yoon Suk-yeol rode a wave of young male support to his narrow victory in 2022, after pledging to abolish the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family. His margin of victory among men under 30 exceeded 20 percentage points, while he lost women in the same age bracket by a similar margin.
“Politicians have discovered gender is an effective wedge issue,” says Kim Eun-ju, director of the Korean Women’s Development Institute. “It mobilizes young voters who might otherwise stay home on election day.”
During my three weeks in Seoul reporting on this story, I spoke with dozens of young Koreans. Their perspectives reveal how deeply personal this political division has become.
Lee Min-ho, a 24-year-old engineering student, expressed frustration about perceived advantages for women in hiring. “I’ll spend two years in military service while women advance their careers,” he told me at a campus coffee shop. “Then companies have gender quotas that make my job search harder. How is that equality?”
Park Ji-yeon, 26, who works at a financial firm, described a different reality. “Men talk about quotas, but I face subtle discrimination daily,” she explained. “My ideas get ignored in meetings. I’m expected to serve coffee. And I’ve been passed over for promotions given to less qualified male colleagues.”
These divergent experiences reflect what Dr. Seungsook Moon, author of “Militarized Modernity and Gendered Citizenship in South Korea,” calls “parallel realities.” In our interview, she noted, “Young men and women live in the same country but experience fundamentally different versions of it.”
South Korea’s gender conflict emerges from specific social conditions. The country faces one of the world’s lowest birth rates at 0.78 children per woman, according to Statistics Korea. Youth unemployment hovers around 8%, but competition for desirable jobs is extraordinarily fierce. The cost of housing in Seoul has risen 92% in the past decade, putting traditional markers of adulthood – marriage, homeownership, children – out of reach for many young people.
“Economic anxiety gets channeled into gender resentment,” explains economic analyst Park Sung-jin. “It’s easier to blame the other gender than confront complex structural problems.”
The divide manifests in distinct political movements. Men’s rights groups like “Man of Korea” have gained hundreds of thousands of followers online. Women’s movements like “Escape the Corset” challenge beauty standards and sexual objectification.
These movements employ different strategies. During my reporting, I attended a forum organized by the Korean Association for Gender Studies. Dr. Lee Na-young told attendees, “Women’s movements focus on structural reform and policy solutions, while men’s groups often emphasize personal grievances and online activism.”
The implications extend beyond domestic politics. South Korea’s fertility crisis threatens economic stability in a rapidly aging society. Gender tensions complicate corporate culture in an economy dominated by family-controlled conglomerates. International organizations have expressed concern about South Korea’s gender equality rankings, which have fallen in recent years according to the World Economic Forum.
President Yoon’s administration has moved forward with plans to restructure the Gender Ministry despite international criticism. Meanwhile, progressive political leaders have struggled to address young male voters’ concerns while maintaining support from their traditional feminist base.
“Neither side has found a message that bridges the divide,” political strategist Kim Jae-won told me. “They’re doubling down on mobilizing their base instead of seeking common ground.”
Some see hope in emerging grassroots efforts. The Citizens’ Coalition for Economic Justice has launched dialogue programs bringing together young people across gender lines to discuss shared economic challenges. Several universities have created courses specifically addressing gender conflict and communication.
“The solution must involve listening and empathy,” argues sociologist Dr. Kim Hyun-mee. “When we frame this as a zero-sum competition, everyone loses.”
As I concluded my reporting assignment in Seoul, I witnessed a small but notable scene. At a university career fair, I observed young men and women collaborating on a petition demanding better workplace protections and family-friendly policies that would benefit both genders.
It was a modest reminder that beneath the heated rhetoric and political maneuvering, many young Koreans share common aspirations for economic security, personal dignity, and meaningful opportunities. Whether South Korea’s political system can channel these shared interests into constructive policy remains an open question – one with significant implications for the country’s social cohesion and demographic future.
For now, the gender divide continues to shape South Korean politics in profound ways, reflecting deeper anxieties about national identity and economic security in a rapidly changing society.
