Participants chant slogans during a June 14 news conference in front of the Government Complex Seoul before beginning a full-body prostration march calling for legal residency protections for undocumented migrants.NEWS1
Won Ok-kum
The author is a representative of the Migrant Center Donghaeng and is originally from Vietnam.
Driving rain and fierce winds swept across the asphalt in front of the Government Complex Seoul in Gwanghwamun on June 14. Within moments, the pavement was covered with cold rainwater. As the storm soaked everyone standing outside, I witnessed a scene that I will never forget — one that was both solemn and heartbreaking.
A procession slowly moved forward with participants lowering their heads to the ground and advancing by placing their foreheads, hands and knees against the rain-soaked pavement. It was a march of full-body prostration calling for the protection of residency rights for undocumented migrants.
Religious leaders from several faiths led the procession, followed by migrant workers and activists who cast themselves onto the flooded asphalt in the humblest posture imaginable. Although I was unable to join them on the ground, I walked beside them toward the Blue House while shouting slogans until my voice was nearly gone.
Their march did not stop despite the driving rain, muddy water splashing across their faces and clothes drenched through. The act of full-body prostration seemed to embody the lives of undocumented migrants in Korea, people forced to remain invisible because they lack legal status. At the same time, it was their most desperate and courageous appeal, revealing themselves publicly despite living under the constant fear of arrest and deportation.
Their message that day was simple: "We are people who live on this land too."
According to official statistics, Korea is now home to nearly 400,000 undocumented migrants. Some estimates place the true number between 600,000 and 700,000 when those not captured by official data are included.
Where are the people commonly labeled "illegal immigrants"? They occupy the least visible yet most essential corners of the Korean economy. They labor in manufacturing plants struggling with chronic worker shortages, on construction sites that begin before dawn and in greenhouses and fishing boats that help supply the nation's food. Their work sustains industries that many others no longer wish to enter.
As a sovereign nation, maintaining the rule of law is unquestionably important. Yet Korea must also acknowledge that a policy centered almost exclusively on enforcement and deportation has failed to resolve the problem.
Every year the government spends substantial public resources on immigration crackdowns, but the cycle continues. Thousands of migrants lose their legal status each month and fall into undocumented status, only adding to the population already living in the shadows.
The greatest concern is not simply their legal status but the erosion of human dignity that follows. Undocumented migrants often cannot report unpaid wages or serious workplace injuries because they fear deportation. Many avoid hospitals even when they are sick and remain hidden in poor housing conditions.
Even children born and raised in Korea, who speak Korean and know no other home, grow up existing in a legal gray zone because of their parents' immigration status. How long should society accept a situation in which the constitutional principles of human dignity and the pursuit of happiness effectively disappear once nationality or immigration documents become the defining standard?
Korea should also look beyond its borders. Spain recently introduced a sweeping regularization program for roughly 500,000 undocumented migrants, granting legal residency and work authorization while opening a pathway to permanent residence for those meeting certain requirements.
Spain did not make this decision because it abandoned the rule of law or embraced simple humanitarian idealism. Rather, it recognized that incorporating people who have already become members of society is both a practical and just policy. Bringing them into the legal system allows them to pay taxes openly, receive legal protection and contribute more fully to economic sustainability and social integration.
A sense of community is not created solely by nationality or a resident registration number. These migrants are already our neighbors and coworkers. Hatred and discrimination offer no solution. Korea should carefully examine policy shifts in countries such as Spain and establish a permanent pathway allowing long-term migrants to regularize their status and settle legally. Such a system would reflect the dignity of a nation that aspires to uphold human rights while responding realistically to population decline.
I still hear the voices of the migrant workers, activists and religious leaders who opened a path with their bodies in the storm on June 14. I sincerely hope the government now responds with equal courage and offers hope to those whose lives have remained frozen for too long. A country where people cannot remain can never secure its own future.
This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.
