Samcheok coal mine shuts down after 89 years, leaving town in limbo

Protesters hold a rally on July 8 in front of the former Dogye Mine headquarters in Dogye-eup, Samcheok, Gangwon Province, urging the government to expedite the implementation of alternative industries following the mine’s closure. Courtesy of the Joint Committee Against the Closure of Dogye Mine

The coal may be gone, but the dust hasn’t settled in Dogye. Home to more than 50,000 people in the 1980s, the mining town in Samcheok, a coastal city in Gangwon Province, has watched its population shrink to just under 9,000.

On June 30, the town’s last economic lifeline, the Korea Coal Corporation’s Dogye Mine, shut down after 89 years of operation. The mine’s closure was not unexpected, but for many locals, the abrupt end and lack of meaningful alternatives feel like an abandonment.

Kim Gwang-tae, 59, head of the Joint Committee Against the Closure of the Korea Coal Corporation’s Dogye Mine, described the current reality facing him and his neighbors, saying, “We are alive, but our way of life is no longer guaranteed.”

At a protest site in front of the mine’s main building, Kim sits beneath a tent that has stood for over seven months. For Kim and his fellow protesters, the pain lies not just in the loss of jobs, but in the uncertainty of what comes next.

The residents argue that unlike other recently shuttered mines such as Hwasun and Jangseong, Dogye still had extractable coal. They accuse the government of forcing the closure without first ensuring alternative industries were in place.

“We’ve shouted ourselves hoarse asking for survival measures,” Kim said, his frustration palpable. “But nothing came. And now the town itself is at risk of disappearing.”

The Korea Coal Corporation’s Dogye Mine shuts down on June 30 after 89 years of operation. Courtesy of the Joint Committee Against the Closure of Dogye Mine

A town in waiting

The local economy has withered. Dogye Station and its surrounding plaza feel frozen in time.

Taxis idle in a row, their drivers waiting for passengers who never come. Across the street, most stalls in Jeondu Market remain shuttered. The bars and restaurants that once buzzed with miners coming off 1,000-meter shifts are empty now, their raucous memories preserved only in faded photos.

One elderly shopkeeper admitted she often stares blankly out of her storefront all day before heading home without a single sale.

The surrounding neighborhoods are preparing for deeper changes. In Jeondu 1-ri, nicknamed “Black Town” for the coal soot that once blew in from nearby stockyards, residents are beginning to pack up and leave.

Lee Yong-mo, 61, said many of his peers have already walked away from the mine where they spent their youth. “I’m not old enough to stop working yet,” he said, “but I have no idea what I can do now.”

Economic estimates paint a grim picture. According to data from Gangwon Province, the Dogye closure is expected to cause about 5.3 trillion won ($3.8 billion) in damage to the local economy, nearly 2 trillion won more than the 2023 shutdown of the Jangseong Mine in Taebaek.

That figure reflects just how deeply Dogye relied on the coal industry. Around 1,600 jobs, or 18 percent of the town’s total population, are now gone.

While the long-term decline of coal was no secret, residents say the government failed to prepare. Job retraining programs only began three months before the closure, and the results have been negligible.

Locals question how a few months of instruction can realistically replace decades of mining expertise. “You can’t just teach someone a new trade in a few weeks and expect it to work,” one protester remarked.

Members of the Joint Committee Against the Closure of Dogye Mine stage a three-step-one-bow protest in front of the Ministry of Economy and Finance in Sejong, urging approval of regional revitalization plans on June 30. Yonhap

A glimmer of hope — but delayed

Amid the frustration, one possible path forward is gaining attention: a government-backed heavy-ion therapy medical cluster. The Ministry of Trade, Industry and Energy, along with Gangwon Province, plans to build the facility in the Heungjeon-ri area of Dogye-eup, with a total investment of 316.7 billion won. The project, if approved, could transform the site into a hub for medical innovation.

But even that plan remains stalled. On the day the mine closed, Kim and other residents traveled to Sejong City and performed a samboilbae, a symbolic protest in which participants bow deeply every three steps, on the sweltering asphalt.

The gesture was meant to urge the government to approve the project’s feasibility study, whose results were due by July 9. As of mid-July, no announcement has been made. Kim said the delay feels like “a mockery of the very people whose livelihoods were taken away.”

Residents have also proposed a broader set of measures, including designating the former mine site as a special mining zone to allow continued extraction until alternative industries take hold, blocking the planned flooding of old mine shafts, establishing a duty-free zone in the region, and transferring the assets of the Korea Coal Corporation to local governments to fund recovery efforts.

Park Hyung-yong, vice president of Dogye’s development association, noted that since the 1989 coal industry rationalization policy, “the government has only subtracted, reducing output, closing mines, without ever adding anything back for these communities.”

Experts agree that time is running out. Lee Won-hak, a research fellow at the Gangwon Research Institute, said that without swift implementation of alternative industries, towns like Dogye could face irreversible decline.

“The closure is already behind us,” he said. “Now the government must move faster — or it will have failed the region twice.”

This article from the Hankook Ilbo, a sister publication of The Korea Times, is translated by a generative AI and edited by The Korea Times.