Squid Game mirrors South Korea’s reallife debt crisis

After midnight, when the crowds of revellers have gone, Choi Young-soo* crouches in a shabby alleyway in Seoul’s wealthy Gangnam district. This is the only time that the 35-year-old, a part-time food delivery rider, dare leave his tiny room at a cheap hostel he shares with about 30 other people. In a fictional world, Choi would not be out of place among the contestants on Squid Game, the wildly popular South Korean dystopian drama that pits the heavily indebted against each other in a macabre, bloodspattered race for an unimaginably large cash prize.

But Choi’s desperate situation is real – he is one of a growing number of ordinary South Koreans who find themselves choked by debt, in a country where taking out a loan is as easy as buying a cup of coffee. “I feel like other people sense that I’m a failure, so I only come out at night to smoke and watch the stray cats,” Choi said.

Squid Game, which was released last month, is on track to become Netflix’s most-watched show ever, captivating viewers around the globe with its mixture of dark drama and commentary on the failures of South Korean-style capitalism.

Household debt in South Korea is now equivalent to more than 100% of GDP – a level not seen elsewhere in Asia.

The popularity of Squid Game is proof that the misery of crushing debt is a universal experience but, according to Lee In-cheol, the chief executive of the thinktank Real Good Economic Research Institute, its Korean backdrop is far from coincidental.

“The total amount of debt run up by ordinary South Koreans exceeds GDP by 5%,” he said. “In individual terms, it means that even if you saved every single penny you earned for an entire year, you would still be unable to repay your debt.”

In response, the country’s financial services commission and financial supervisory service recently resolved to prevent more South Koreans from falling into debt. “That is why major banks have acted to curb borrowing,” Lee said. “But is that really going to help people, especially in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic?”

Like many of Squid Game’s 456 fictional contestants, Choi’s plunge into indebtedness came with alarming speed.

Just two years ago, he was working as an IT engineer. Years of punishing overtime and late nights took a toll on his health so he and his wife decided to open a pub in their home town, Incheon. After an encouraging start, their business fell victim to the pandemic. “Sometimes we didn’t have a single customer,” Choi said.

After failing to pay their rent for four months, the couple sought help. Securing a bank loan was surprisingly easy, but they were shocked to find the interest was a steep 4%. Within months they had taken out loans from all five of South Korea’s high-street banks, using their home as collateral.

In an attempt to get out of their downward spiral, Choi’s wife found a job in another part of the country, and the couple asked his parents to look after their two young children. Choi said he has heard a lot about Squid Game, but added: “Why would I want to watch a bunch of people with huge debts? I can just look in the mirror.”

‘Why would I want to watch a bunch of people with huge debts? I can look in the mirror’ Choi Young-soo Debtor