Can South Korean politics afford to ignore the numbers?

No matter who wins the presidency, South Korea's welfare spending is bound to rise. In a rapidly aging society, individuals cannot shoulder the growing costs of healthcare, elder care, and housing on their own. Nor is that what most citizens expect. The idea that “the state must strive to enhance social security” was written into the Constitution back in 1962, when the country’s per capita income was just $87. The direction was already set when the first five-year economic plan began in 1963.

Whoever takes power, public spending will only grow. Nearly 40% of health insurance payouts now go to those 65 and older. Long-term care insurance spending has doubled in five years, from 9 trillion won to more than 18 trillion. Even with reforms to raise both contributions and benefits, the national pension fund is projected to run deficits starting in 2048.

Welfare expansion is no longer an ideological issue. It’s a question of daily life. Conservative and progressive governments alike have created or expanded key programs—health insurance, pensions, basic income for seniors, free childcare, and long-term care. Korea’s political history has moved in step with the growth of its welfare state.

But one question always lingers: Where will the money come from? The phrase “welfare without tax hikes” became a flashpoint during the 2012 presidential race and remains a symbol of Korea’s shaky welfare foundations. Both Park Geun-hye and Moon Jae-in, who faced off in that election and later served consecutive terms, pushed welfare policies without clear funding plans—and both were hammered by opposition critics and experts.

At least back then, there was debate. Today, politicians fall silent when confronted with the math. Lee Jae-myung of the Democratic Party has pledged to expand child benefits to everyone under 18. Kim Moon-soo of the People Power Party promised free daytime bus rides for seniors over 65. But no one is saying who will pay or how. And no one is pressing them to explain. Even in this snap election, triggered by impeachment and political chaos, the most basic budget questions are nowhere to be heard.

In the past, politicians at least offered vague outlines. During the free school lunch debate, they promised to adjust local education funds to cover the cost (never mind that those funds were already overflowing). When Park Geun-hye’s government rolled out the basic pension, there was at least a debate about linking it to the national pension. And in 2017, during yet another impeachment-driven election, Moon Jae-in and Ahn Cheol-soo clashed over how to fund child allowances.

Today, politics has abandoned the numbers altogether. National debt has topped 1,100 trillion won. Health insurance and pension funds are rapidly draining. Yet raising these concerns gets dismissed as old-fashioned. Politicians eagerly promise tax cuts but stay silent on tax hikes or insurance premium increases. They chase votes but dodge responsibility. Public spending will clearly keep growing, but no one is telling the truth about it. This isn’t ignorance—it’s deliberate deceit. Not silence, but hypocrisy.

Advanced nations handle this differently. After its 1990s fiscal crisis, Sweden hiked its progressive income tax and raised VAT to 25%, backed by public consensus that welfare requires matching taxes. In 2023, Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida, under budget pressure from rising defense costs, promised a 100,000 yen payout to low-income families. His approval ratings tanked, and he stepped down the following year.

If politicians want to promise more, they must first explain how they’ll pay for it. Expanding welfare isn’t just about pledges—it’s about rewriting the nation’s blueprint. It’s not charity. It’s accountability.