South Korea has long prided itself on being a beacon of democracy and progress in East Asia — a nation where candlelight vigils have brought down presidents and K-pop stars headline political protests. Yet behind this progressive image lies a labour system that systematically marginalises those who help sustain the nation’s economic growth: low-skilled migrant workers.
At the centre of this paradox stands the Employment Permit System (EPS), a state-run framework introduced in 2004 to regulate and formalise the recruitment of foreign labour. Originally hailed as a reform against private recruitment abuses, the EPS has evolved into a mechanism that entrenches dependency, restricts mobility, and leaves workers vulnerable to exploitation. While the system delivers efficiency for employers and stability for the economy, it increasingly does so at the cost of basic rights and human dignity.
The EPS currently governs the employment of around 303,000 foreign workers under the E-9 visa scheme — out of roughly 1.01 million total foreign workers in South Korea as of 2024. These migrants come from 17 partner countries, primarily across South and Southeast Asia, including the Philippines, Nepal, Vietnam, Indonesia, Bangladesh, and, most recently, Tajikistan.
The system’s appeal is obvious: employers in industries such as manufacturing, construction, agriculture, and fisheries can access a stable pool of affordable labour. For migrants, the draw lies in the prospect of sending home remittances — a lifeline for families and national economies. In 2024, for example, Filipino workers in South Korea sent back US$853.75 million, a record contribution to the Philippines’ remittance inflows.
Yet beneath the surface, the EPS tightly binds workers to their employers. Article 25 of South Korea’s Act on the Employment of Foreign Workers allows E-9 visa holders to change jobs only three times during a three-year contract, with an additional two transfers permitted under an extension. Even these transfers must meet narrow conditions — contract expiration, employer consent, or verified employer misconduct as determined by labour authorities.
Such inflexibility effectively makes workers dependent on their employers for continued legal status. If a migrant faces unsafe conditions, unpaid wages, or harassment, changing jobs can be a bureaucratic ordeal. Without employer approval, even victims of abuse often feel compelled to stay silent rather than risk deportation.
Human rights organisations have long criticised the EPS for enabling structural exploitation. As early as 2009, Amnesty International reported that many workers under the system felt “disposable,” unable to assert their rights without endangering their livelihoods. These concerns have since been echoed by the UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination and the UN Human Rights Council, both of which have urged Seoul to reform its policies.
The consequences of inaction are stark. Migrant workers, though they make up just 3.5 per cent of South Korea’s total workforce, account for 13 per cent of workplace deaths, according to the Ministry of Employment and Labor. Data from the Korea Workers’ Compensation and Welfare Service further reveals a 4.5 per cent increase in injury and illness claims among foreign workers between 2024 and 2025 — rising from 4,950 to 5,173 cases.
The most dangerous sectors are construction, which accounts for 62.5 per cent of migrant worker fatalities, and manufacturing at 22.7 per cent. These industries, essential to South Korea’s export-driven economy, rely heavily on migrants willing to perform physically demanding and hazardous jobs that domestic workers increasingly shun.
South Korea’s reliance on restrictive foreign labour schemes mirrors broader trends in Asia. Countries facing similar demographic pressures and labour shortages have adopted comparable models.
In Singapore, for instance, the Training Work Permit limits unskilled trainees to just six months, while Taiwan’s Employment Service Act allows job transfers only in exceptional cases, such as the death or bankruptcy of an employer. These programs, like South Korea’s EPS, prioritise economic efficiency over worker autonomy.
However, some regional counterparts are beginning to reform. Japan, long criticised for its exploitative Technical Intern Training Program, plans to replace it in 2027 with the Employment for Skill Development Program. The new framework will grant greater freedom for foreign workers to change employers under defined conditions, responding to persistent international criticism.
Unless South Korea undertakes similar reforms, its EPS may soon appear outdated and regressive by regional standards.
The South Korean government has taken limited steps to diversify its migration policy. In 2023, it announced an expansion of the E-7-4 visa quota — a skilled worker category — from 5,000 to 35,000. The EPS’s E-9 visa quota was also raised to address chronic labour shortages.
These adjustments suggest a gradual shift toward recognising the value of skilled migration. However, the broader immigration structure remains narrow, fragmented, and precarious.
According to Ministry of Justice data from 2024, South Korea hosts nearly 397,522 undocumented immigrants. Of these, 134,580 were once legally registered workers — including many E-9 visa holders — who lost their status or overstayed after contracts ended. Yet the majority, about 260,818, entered on short-term visas and overstayed, showing that while EPS restrictions contribute to irregular migration, they are not its main driver.
Still, the closed design of the EPS limits long-term prospects for participants. E-9 holders cannot transition to permanent residency directly; most must either return home after their term or seek status through marriage, specialised skills, or rare visa conversions. According to KOSIS 2024, nearly 42 per cent of foreigners in South Korea previously held E-9 visas — highlighting how deeply the system permeates the country’s labour market, yet how few paths it provides to stable integration.
Global labour organisations have repeatedly called on Seoul to align its migrant policies with international standards. South Korea has not yet ratified the International Labour Organization (ILO) Conventions No. 97 and 143, which safeguard the rights of migrant workers and promote equality of treatment.
Domestically, however, reform remains politically sensitive. Public opinion toward immigration is ambivalent: while industries depend on foreign labour, segments of the population view migrants as competing for jobs or burdening welfare systems. Policymakers, balancing economic imperatives and nationalist sentiment, often opt for incremental changes rather than structural overhaul.
Yet signs of public empathy occasionally emerge. Media coverage of migrant worker deaths — particularly during extreme weather events and industrial accidents — has sparked outrage and calls for accountability. Labour unions and civil society groups continue to demand reforms, including improved safety inspections, fair wage enforcement, and greater freedom to change employers.
Japan’s decision to overhaul its technical intern program provides a model worth examining. The Employment for Skill Development Program, set for launch in 2027, explicitly aims to address long-standing criticisms from the UN Human Rights Commission, which cited systemic exploitation and wage suppression. By allowing job changes under regulated conditions, Japan acknowledges that controlled flexibility can coexist with employer stability.
If South Korea were to follow a similar trajectory, reforms could:
Allowing job transfers without employer consent in cases of abuse, wage theft, or unsafe working conditions.
Extending legal residency options for long-term EPS participants who demonstrate good standing.
Strengthening workplace oversight and penalties for employers violating labour laws.
Ratifying key ILO conventions to align with international human rights standards.
Such measures would not only protect vulnerable workers but also enhance South Korea’s international reputation as a democratic and rights-respecting society.
The EPS has undeniably contributed to South Korea’s economic stability. It has supplied industries with consistent manpower and provided millions of foreign workers the opportunity to earn and remit income home. For sending countries, these remittances are lifelines that finance education, healthcare, and community development.
Yet the very system that sustains this cycle also perpetuates inequality. Migrant workers are essential to South Korea’s economy but remain marginalised by its laws — caught between necessity and neglect. Without genuine reform, the EPS risks evolving into a form of modern indentured labour rather than a fair partnership.
South Korea’s challenge now is moral as much as economic. The country’s global reputation — built on democracy, prosperity, and soft power — depends on how it treats those who clean its factories, build its infrastructure, and harvest its food.
In an era of demographic decline and rising labour shortages, South Korea cannot afford to rely on an outdated system of control. A reformed, humane, and inclusive immigration policy would not only protect the rights of migrant workers but also strengthen the very foundations of the nation’s democracy.
