South Korea has officially dropped traditional age-counting system that made everyone 1-2 years older. But many still use it. Why?
When asked his age, Park Se-kyu used to answer in two simple ways: “I'm 34,” or “I was born in 1990.” But since June last year, his responses have expanded to three: “I'm 34 in Korean age,” ”Technically, I'm 33 in ‘Yoon Suk Yeol age,’” or “I was born in 1990."
Whenever Park mentions his international age -- often referred to locally as “Yoon Suk Yeol age” after the Korean president who decided to make it the norm -- the question is rarely seen as settled. He's then inevitably asked: “So, what's your Korean age?”
"People always want to know (my Korean age) exactly to determine if they are a year older, younger or the same age as me," Park said. "If I only share my international age, it doesn’t provide that precise information."
Not letting go of Korean age
But why do Koreans feel they need to know a person's Korean age?
In most countries, people live their entire lives knowing only their “international age," a term used in Korea to mean the number of years that have passed since the specific date on which a person was born. It starts at zero.
The decision to abandon Korea’s unique method of counting ages was intended to unify age reckoning and reduce confusion.
But a year and a half since the national policy shift that changed the official age of every living Korean, people like Park argue it has only increased the confusion.
A November poll conducted by market research firm Embrain on 1,200 Koreans aged 13-69 found that 60.8 percent of respondents still report their Korean age when asked. Over 72 percent of respondents said they think it will take a long time for the international age system to fully take root.
To explain, experts suggest that the way Koreans calculate their age is not a simple counting process; it is deeply intertwined with various aspects of social dynamics, including speech levels and social hierarchy.
In Korea’s traditional system, a newborn baby has an age of "one" and gains another year every Jan. 1, meaning everyone's age changes simultaneously at the start of the new year. This system ensures that people born in the same year are always considered the same age, regardless of their specific birth dates.
This consistency is key; once it's known that you're the same age as someone else, that designation remains unchanged.
It's a distinction that is built in to the Korean word for "friend" -- "chingu." No matter how well you get along with someone, in this sense you are only "chingu" if you were born in the same year. Even a one-year age difference determines how people address each other, from casual terms like “ya” (hey) and “neo” (informal "you") to honorific, gendered terms such as “unni,” “oppa,” “nuna” or “hyeong.” The age gap also influences whether to use honorific language (jondaetmal) or speak casually (banmal).
Jeon Mi-kyung, a 30-year-old graphic designer, can attest to that.
“When I mingle with my foreign friends and speak English, we rarely ask each other’s age. Even if they're 10 years older or younger than me, we can still be friends. I can address them by their names alone, and the language doesn’t change based on our age gap,” Jeon said.
“But in Korea, it’s like you can have a conversation with someone without knowing their name, but not without knowing their age. If I call out to someone who's just one year older than me by saying ‘ya,’ it could come across as saying, ‘Hey, let’s fight.’”
When there is no shared understanding of how old we are, it can create confusion in relationships, said Korea University professor Shin Ji-young in her book “Language Sensitivity Class.”
She gives an example of two girls born in the same year but with different birthdays to illustrate what happens when international age is used in Korean culture. If one girl is older by a few months, she is entitled to address the younger one casually as “ya” or “neo,” while the younger girl has to use the honorific “unni.” But when one of the girls has her birthday, they become the same age again, and so the dynamic changes every year.
“To have a reliable way of addressing each other, the age difference must be consistent. This is why Koreans find it difficult to abandon the Korean age system, where everyone ages together at the same time,” Shin said in her book.
How to not think too much of age
The attachment to the Korean age system is not without criticism.
According to Embrain’s survey, 86.8 percent of respondents felt that Korean society has a strong bias regarding age, and 79 percent said many people feel constrained by it. Among the respondents, 57.8 percent reported paying for meals simply because they were older, while 39.6 percent said they lost opportunities due to being older. Conversely, 61.8 percent of younger respondents reported being assigned trivial tasks and 54.9 percent said they had been scolded by older individuals.
The government had hoped the adoption of the international age system would help eliminate age-based hierarchies and expand the definition of friendship.
Goo Bon-gyu, director of the legislative innovation coordination team at the Ministry of Government Legislation, said on KTV Public Broadcasting in July 2023, a month after international age was adopted, that the goal and anticipated effect of the system was to create a culture where people can be friends regardless of age.
“This aims to naturally eliminate the hierarchical culture of strict adherence to differences of even one or two years in age.”
However, some experts remain skeptical.
“Even with the implementation of the international age system, Koreans still calculate age using the traditional Korean system in social settings. Will they genuinely become friends with people who are younger? I don’t think so,” said professor Seol Dong-hoon of Jeonbuk National University. “Unless the structure of the language itself changes, the practice of addressing people differently based on age will largely remain unchanged.”
Professor Shin told The Korea Herald that age-based hierarchy, which contradicts the constitutional principle of equality, cannot be changed simply by amending age-related policies but requires a shift in social perception.
She observed that students at her university are already moving away from age-based hierarchies. “They no longer use terms like ‘sunbae’ (senior) and ‘hubae’ (junior). Instead, they opt to address one another by name, adding the respectful suffix ‘nim,’ regardless of age,” she said. “This kind of shift in social perception could (be more effective) in fostering broader friendships than simply (adopting) the international age system.”
