[Reportage] Inside some of Korea's 1,067 small towns facing extinction

한겨레 입력 2021. 10. 18. 18:36 수정 2021. 10. 18. 18:46
글자크기 설정 파란원을 좌우로 움직이시면 글자크기가 변경 됩니다.

이 글자크기로 변경됩니다.

(예시) 가장 빠른 뉴스가 있고 다양한 정보, 쌍방향 소통이 숨쉬는 다음뉴스를 만나보세요. 다음뉴스는 국내외 주요이슈와 실시간 속보, 문화생활 및 다양한 분야의 뉴스를 입체적으로 전달하고 있습니다.

As populations age and people move to bigger cities for opportunities, an ever-growing number of small towns are facing extinction
A joint task force calling for the balanced national development, decentralization of power, and co-living and development in the Chungcheong region, along with a Yeongnam and Honam civic movement pushing for the additional relocation of public institutions to rural areas stand in front of the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure and Transport located at the Sejong Government Complex, calling for the relocation of additional public institutions to rural areas on Wednesday. (provided by the Joint Task Force)

On Sept. 28, I passed by Bongseon Reservoir, famous for the willow trees that line its shore, and made my way into the village of Bongseon. Visitors to the community center are greeted by a stone plaque at the entrance that reads, “Bongseon, a village you want to call home.”

Right across the road, I notice several red-roofed houses that show clear signs of having been abandoned for several years now. Weeds burst from spots where the walls have crumbled.

Baek Jeong-hyeon, the village leader, guides me to a house on top of a hill. “I’m what passes for a youngster in these parts,” the 71-year-old chuckles.

“Nowadays, us old folks have to carry the funeral bier when someone dies in this town,” Baek says in another bit of gallows humor as we enter the ramshackle dwelling.

The clock is stopped, the rice cooker is covered in dust, the soup bowls and rice bowls have taken on a yellow tint; the umbrella is rusty, and the doors are sagging.

The house preserves the traces of the life of the previous homeowner, who had lived alone here until his death over a decade ago. In the absence of disturbance, the house has become cradled in a wild profusion of perilla and soybean leaves.

Baek says, “We don’t have any kids in this village — just more old folks than you can shake a stick at. What I’m worried about is that we’ll be seeing more empty houses like this in the future.”

The concerns of this 71-year-old “youngster” don’t only apply to this village. The number of areas, like Bongseon, that are considered at high risk of what’s called “local extinction” has surged by around 50% in a single year.

According to a recent analysis by Lee Sang-ho, an assistant researcher at the Korea Employment Information Service, 106 (46.5%) of Korea’s 228 cities, counties, and districts and 1,777 (50%) of its 3,553 townships and neighborhoods are at risk of extinction, as of May 2021. Lee further placed 36 (15.8%) cities, counties, and districts and 1,067 (30%) townships and neighborhoods in the high-risk category.

The number of cities, counties and districts at risk of extinction this year rose to just 106 from 105 last year, but those in the high-risk category jumped from 23 to 36. If no solutions are forthcoming, the communities in these areas will continue to age, leading to the gradual disappearance of the population base of these communities. If an area is at high risk of extinction, the minimum social infrastructure necessary for living will collapse, leading to the region's demise.

"I'm afraid of getting sick"

The village of Bongseon in the township of Sicho in Seocheon County, South Chungcheong Province, has just 95 residents. The extinction risk index, calculated by dividing the female population ages 20-39 by the number of people age 65 or older, indicates a risk of decline if it falls under 1.0. The village's figure comes to 0.09 — less than a tenth of that standard and far below the high-risk extinction level of 0.2. The village has 52 residents above age 60, 23 in their 40s and 50s, 11 in their 20s and 30s, and just nine in their teens.

The population there began declining 40 years ago. Baek says, "Back then, many girls got jobs at wig factories. Why would bachelors without girlfriends come to the countryside to farm? Both you and I would pack our bags."

The increasing number of people leaving their hometowns is adding to the inconveniences faced by those who stay behind. Two village students in middle school and three in high school commute to the town of Seocheon about 10 kilometers away by a bus that comes only three times a day. The village's lone elementary school student attends Sicho Elementary School, a 2-kilometer trip by school bus.

The local hole-in-the-wall store that sold just about everything closed shop more than a decade ago. Picking up daily necessities like toilet paper or cooking oil requires a trip to the supermarket in Sicho or the Nonghyup grocery store in the next township of Munsan.

The biggest headache by far is the distance separating older populations from hospitals. If sick or needing a complete checkup, people must cross the provincial border into Iksan, North Jeolla Province. Park Seong-kyu, 85, the former chairman of a seniors’ association whose wife was diagnosed with early-stage dementia, tells me, "I'm afraid to get sick."

Though the village is a good spot to live in when one can live off the land, how long can a person keep going all the way to a hospital in Seoul for treatment?

With the 2009 opening of the Seocheon-Gongju Expressway that cleaves the village in two, far fewer people turn out for fireworks and pungmul (traditional folk music) and festivals for Daeboreum — a day marking the year's first full moon under the lunar calendar — are declining in scale every year.

Festival leader Choi Kyu-hun, 68, says, "Development of Bongseon Reservoir as an ecological tourism destination could revive the neighborhood," but adds, "What's the use of just building an [eco-tourism] experiential learning center when we need accommodations, restaurants and amenities?"

Shooting locations and people who don't stay

About 250 kilometers east of Bongseon is the village of Hwabon in the township of Sanseong in Gunwi County, North Gyeongsang Province. Three villages formed along a waterway flowing down from Mount Jorim, which rises 637 meters above sea level. They have been home to people for many years.

On Oct. 4, during the holiday, as I near Hwabon Station in the village of Hwabon 1-ri, cars inch forward in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I turn to see Yeokjeon Supermarket bustling with customers looking for souvenirs. The noodle restaurant outside of the station has a notice that reads: "Waiting time on weekends and holidays is two hours."

This village gained fame as a shooting location for the 2018 movie "Little Forest," and ever since, each weekend it has seen swarms of tourists. Yet when I make a turn into the village, I’m met with a quiet landscape much like any ordinary rural area.

Lee Jong-jun, 63, a resident I meet in front of the village hall, tells me, "People apparently started leaving around 20 years ago. Many young people went to Daegu for their children's education. The number of empty homes is gradually rising with the passing of more older people."

"Becoming a tourist attraction and having a lot of people is nice, but very few people return home to such a remote place,” Lee says.

A severe imbalance also characterizes the demographic composition of this town. A combined 297 people live in Hwabon 1-ri, where the township office and Hwabon Station are located, but 187 of them are over 60. Those in the 40-50 age range number 68 and those in the 20-30 range 29, with just 13 teens, thus putting the village's extinction danger index at 0.04.

The village's rise as a tourist destination means many visitors come and go, but the first red flag vis-a-vis community sustainability appeared there long ago. Sanseong Elementary School, which sat across the village hall, shuttered nine years ago, and nobody under age 20 resides in Hwabon 2-ri, where Lee lives.

Getting sick poses a major problem, too. The nearby public health center can only give flu vaccines, and in case of a medical emergency or for those with chronic diseases, a trip is required to the town of Gunwi or Daegu, which is an hour's drive away.

Lee tells me, "It’s unthinkable for older people to go to the hospital [alone]. If you call 119 because of a patient needing emergency attention, you have to go to Chilgok County, North Gyeongsang Province. Sometimes you’ll need to go to Yeongcheon (in the province) or all the way to Daegu."

Talk is growing that the construction of a new airport in Daegu and the incorporation of Gunwi County into Daegu could help reverse the population drain. In front of Gunwi Town Office was a booth for promoting a campaign to collect 10,000 signatures to incorporate the county into Daegu. Daegu and North Gyeongsang are ramping up cooperation by promoting super-expansive administrative integration to form "Daegu-North Gyeongsang Special Metropolitan City."

Not so fast, says county resident Park Tae-mun, 75. "If the airport is built and the county is absorbed by Daegu, land prices will rise and young people will have no jobs," he tells me.

The question, then, is if the new airport and absorption by Daegu could help the area overcome the problem that "Little Forest" could not.

By Choi Ye-rin and Ha Eo-young, staff reporters

Please direct questions or comments to [english@hani.co.kr]

Copyright © 한겨레. 무단전재 및 재배포 금지.

이 기사에 대해 어떻게 생각하시나요?