Who will care for us when we get older?
Recently, my book club discussed Korea’s aging population and the question of care — how we might build an interdependent society that truly values caregiving. The group spanned generations, from young mothers to retirees, and our discussion combined sharp humor with sobering honesty.
Toward the end, someone asked, “I don’t have children. Who will take care of me when I grow old and sick?” Another replied, half in jest, “Well, I’d just die before that happens.” It was a simple exchange, yet one that spoke volumes about how we understand care and responsibility.
The question resonated with me because it reflects a broader societal change. Korea, traditionally a collectivist society, once relied almost entirely on kinship networks to support its elders.
Yet the landscape of family and aging has changed dramatically. The country is aging faster than almost any other nation and also has one of the world’s lowest fertility rates. This year, 1 in 5 Koreans will be over the age of 65, and by 2070, that proportion is expected to reach half of the nation's population. The fertility rate currently stands at 0.75 children per woman. Despite these profound shifts, our systems of care have not evolved at the same pace. Families continue to shoulder much of the emotional and physical burden, even as household structures shrink and traditional expectations lose their footing.
According to the 2023 Survey on the Living Conditions and Welfare Needs of Older Persons in Korea, 81 percent of older adult care is still provided by family members. Thirty percent of adults with greater care needs receive help from coresident children. Within families, however, daughters bear a greater responsibility for caring for aging parents; single daughters alone account for about 20 percent of all family caregivers. This reflects a persistent cultural belief that women are the natural caregivers and emotional anchors of the family. Care work remains undervalued because it is feminized — treated as emotional labor rather than skilled, essential work — and viewed as an extension of domestic chores.
Under the government’s long-term care insurance, family caregivers can receive modest pay for up to an hour of care per day, for a maximum of 20 days per month, when certain conditions are met. Because caregiving is a full-time responsibility, many family caregivers end up drastically reducing their paid work or leaving their jobs altogether. This often pushes them into “care poverty” amid limited public assistance — in addition to the toll on their physical and emotional health.
Although Korea has long-term care insurance and professional care workers, these systems have limitations. There are too few workers for the rising demand, and those employed face low wages, insecure schedules and little job security. The result is that families are often left to shoulder burdens that society should help carry.
Some promising solutions lie in diversifying care services — offering families a wider range of options that reflect their circumstances and needs, while expanding access to public programs. In Korea, long-term care services are currently administered by the National Health Insurance Service, which operates separately from other welfare systems. This fragmented structure often hinders the coordination of services and leaves families to navigate care on their own. Recognizing care work as essential labor is equally important because gendered divisions of care not only overburden women but also limit men’s participation in caregiving roles that provide opportunities to nurture empathy and an appreciation of our shared vulnerability.
Technological innovations such as artificial intelligence robots are emerging to assist with mobility, health monitoring and emotional support. They can play a meaningful supporting role in a society struggling to meet rising care demands and ease the growing strain on caregivers. Yet many older adults remain hesitant to embrace such technologies, finding them impersonal or unfamiliar. For some, the very idea of seeking care beyond the family evokes a sense of abandonment — a lingering belief that true care must come from one’s own kin.
As Korean society changes, we must broaden our understanding of family — not as one defined solely by blood, but as a living network of relationships that includes neighbors, friends and communities who sustain us. Such an inclusive approach to family and care will ensure that each of us may give and receive care with dignity and that no one is left behind.
In Korea’s aging society, the question of who is responsible for care and how it is implemented demands more than policy reforms or technological advancements. It calls for collective recognition of care as the connective tissue of our shared existence in community. Caring for one another is not a burden to be managed, but a human responsibility to be embraced, extending beyond the bounds of family. Ultimately, well-being will not be measured by how long we live, but how well we sustain one another with solidarity and compassion.
Ma Kyung-hee is an editor and researcher based in Seoul.