Park Han-sol reports on Korea's financial regulators, along with fintech and insurance. She previously wrote about the art world, from biennales and exhibitions to fairs and auctions, with a focus on Seoul and the figures shaping the scene. Before joining The Korea Times, she spent a year at ABC News' Seoul bureau, contributing to coverage of major Asia-Pacific events.
Afghan refuge seeker in Korea fights for future
Ramis, second from left, an Afghan seeking refuge in Korea after the Taliban regained control of his home country in 2021, speaks during a talk in Seoul, Wednesday. His real name and face cannot be disclosed for security reasons. Courtesy of APIL
By Park Han-sol
Following the withdrawal of U.S. forces from Afghanistan in August 2021, the Taliban swiftly retook control of the country. As Kabul unraveled into mayhem, crowds rushed to the airport, clinging to the hope of catching the last departing flights.
Amid the turmoil, the Korean government launched its own evacuation mission: an operation to airlift 390 Afghans and their families — individuals deemed “special contributors” for their work with the Korean embassy, the Korea International Cooperation Agency and other organizations.
But Ramis — a name he uses in place of his real one, which cannot be disclosed for security reasons — and his brother were left behind. Though their father had served at the Korean embassy in Kabul for nearly two decades, the two had to watch their parents and younger sister board the plane to safety without them.
The reason? They had aged out of eligibility. At over 20 years old, they were no longer considered dependents and therefore could not be included under their father’s protection.
“Saying goodbye to my family in that moment was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he recalled during a talk in Seoul Wednesday, held ahead of World Refugee Day, which falls on June 20. His poignant remarks followed a screening of “Flee” (2021), the Oscar-nominated documentary that traces an Afghan’s journey to refuge in Denmark during the 1990s.
Stranded in a country descending into chaos, Ramis soon began receiving repeated threats from Taliban soldiers demanding to know his father’s whereabouts. He and his brother were forced into hiding, moving between relatives’ homes, before fleeing across the border to Iran. From there, with their father’s help, they secured short-term C-3 visas and finally arrived in Korea in early 2023.
“As the plane rose into the sky, I looked down and tears came. What was most difficult was having to abandon everything — my studies, my friends, my memories, the life I had known," he continued.
“But [in the end,] I just wanted to be with my family again.”
Ramis and his brother applied for refugee status through the Korea Immigration Service, but their requests were denied. Authorities ruled that the two did not face a “well-founded fear of persecution” from the Taliban if returned to their home country — a key standard under international refugee law.
Seeking to overturn the decision, the brothers filed a lawsuit against the Incheon Immigration Office. With support from Advocates for Public Interest Law, a nonprofit legal advocacy group, they won their first trial this May. The appeals process is set to proceed soon, with a ruling expected as early as August.
Ramis says the word “refugee” carries with it the weight of sadness, uncertainty and struggle.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s something entirely negative; I choose to see it in a positive light. I think refugees hold a kind of hope that’s different from others — and it’s that hope that keeps us going. If I can endure these hard times, I’ll reach the place where my dreams live.”