On the streets of Chinatown in Pusan, South Korea. Photo by Ludi Baikala, used with permission.

Online independent media Ludi Baikala (People of Baikal) published a long read by Sofia Sukhonos about the life of immigrants from Russia who enter South Korea and extend their stay without proper documentation.  Global Voices translated the article and edited it for length clarity. It is republished with permission from Ludi Baikala. 

Each year, the number of immigrants illegally overstaying their allotted visa period increases in South Korea. By March 2024, 419,000 foreigners were living in the country without official permission, among a total population of 52 million. This is twice the number from ten years ago. In total, there are 2.6 million foreigners in the country, meaning approximately one in six lack proper documentation, according to South Korean legislation. 

Most workers in this situation come from Thailand, Vietnam, and China. Russian citizens rank tenth by number: In 2022, the Ministry of Justice counted just 9,108 individuals overstaying.

Russians began working in the country in the early 2000s when a visa was still required. The flow increased after a visa-free agreement for short-term trips between Russia and South Korea came into effect in 2014. Initially, residents from the East of Russia — Buryatia, Transbaikalia, Primorye, Khabarovsk Krai, and the Amur Region — flocked to the country due to its high wages. Today, people come from all over Russia.

Since 2022, applicants must obtain an electronic K-ETA permit before entry by filling out an application on the official website. The immigration service is interested in the applicant's employment, income, reasons for visiting, and previous visits to South Korea. Not everyone is granted permission. The criteria are not officially listed, but sometimes even genuine tourists are denied a K-ETA. If a Russian citizen manages to enter South Korea, they can stay visa-free for 90 days within six months, but no more than 60 consecutive days. If a person does not leave the country after two months, they have broken immigration law and face deportation and fines for unlawful stay. The amount of the fine depends on the length of the stay and can reach tens of millions of won, equating to hundreds of thousands of rubles (thousands of USD).

Previously, people who were planning to remain illegally sought jobs through intermediary agencies in Russia. Today, Russians often enter the country independently and look for vacancies on Telegram and KakaoTalk chats (a South Korean chat app). Examples include: “Women needed for picking strawberries, ginseng, tomatoes, etc.,” “Cosmetics cases: assembly and quality check,” and “Construction site. 10 men needed.” Wages start at KRW 9,860 per hour (around USD 7), which is the minimum wage. Working at a factory for 10 hours a day with one day off per week can result in a monthly salary of KRW 2.36 million, about RUB 150,000 or USD 1,700.

Photo by Ludi Baikala, used with permission

The harder the job, the higher the pay. For instance, stories circulate about seasonal watermelon picking for KRW 4.5 million per month (almost USD 3,400), but such work can easily cause hernias and back problems. For comparison, the average salary in Buryatia in March 2024 was RUB 69,000 (around USD 760). In Transbaikalia, it's RUB 75,000 (USD 825), and in the Amur Region, almost RUB 79,000 (USD 869). However, these are very approximate figures. 

“In Chita, I worked as a data administrator in an office and also had a side job as an eyelash maker in a salon. I earned about 45,000 rubles [USD 495] for both jobs,” says 23-year-old single mother Zarina Gafurova (name changed at her request), who came to Korea a year and a half ago. She now earns about KRW 2.7 million per month (approximately USD 1,925) at a factory producing soundproofing material for cars.

The country is not only attractive for its financial opportunities. South Korea is one of the safest places in the world, with a high human development index considering life expectancy, education, and income. Clothing and electronics are significantly cheaper than in Russia. The latest iPhone can be bought for KRW 1.2 million (RUB 78,000 or USD 1,000), about half the monthly salary of a factory migrant.

‘In Korea, it’s easier for an Asian person to blend in’

A forty-year-old sales representative from Ulan-Ude, the capital of Buryatia, Oleg Dorzhiev, stayed in South Korea for eight months.

He always wanted to try living abroad. Many in Buryatia go to South Korea for work, but Dorzhiev hesitated to make the move. He has no wife or children, but his mother, who has leukaemia and, is in remission, might need help. Everything changed with mobilization after Russia began its invasion of Ukraine. On September 24, 2022, Dorzhiev's friend told him they needed to meet and have a serious talk. “He said, in short, drop everything and leave Ulan-Ude right now. Allegedly, almost 700 people were taken from his home district, and everyone would get draft notices in a day or two. He said that martial law was about to be introduced and the borders would close.” 

The friend did not go due to his pregnant wife. Dorzhiev reasoned that if he was drafted, his mother would be left with his mortgage debt. He packed his belongings in a 90-liter tourist backpack and left for Mongolia.

It turned out that in Mongolia, one could either earn money through hard physical labor or learn the language. Most escapees Dorzhiev met in Mongolia soon returned home, but he feared new waves of mobilization, so he moved on to South Korea.

Read more: The descendants of Buryat migrants in Mongolia have no feelings towards Russia

“A friend I lived with in Ulaanbaatar got me hooked on Korea. I realized there are three options for going illegally: the US, Israel, and Korea. But the US is expensive, and getting into Israel is hard. In Korea, it’s easier for an Asian person to blend in among the locals,” says Dorzhiev.

He knew that border guards might not let him in if they suspected he was going to work. He concocted a story: He was a K-pop fan going to a concert. To make it believable, he bought what he thought was youthful clothing — a pink polo shirt and a purple jacket — and bleached his hair at a beauty salon.

The disguise didn't help: Realizing that the K-pop fan could only say “I don’t understand” in English, the border officer sent him for interrogation. There, Dorzhiev was provided with a Russian-speaking translator. He had prepared by learning what questions are usually asked: “How much is the K-ETA fee?” “What date was your entry approved?” “What is the exchange rate of the won to the ruble?” “How much does lunch cost in a South Korean restaurant?” Dorzhiev answered everything and was let into the country. In Ulaanbaatar, he had found a job through acquaintances at a small enterprise in the suburbs of Seoul where soy was grown hydroponically. That’s where he went.

The job was challenging but interesting. The entire process was automated, and Dorzhiev, with two colleagues, planted seeds, harvested soy, and packed it for twelve hours a day. They were paid three million won (nearly USD 2,200 or RUB 200,000) a month. Dorzhiev lived in a trailer near the workshop, equipped with a shower, toilet, bed, and table. The employer provided ready meals. Dorzhiev had no problems getting a bank card and SIM card.

Dorzhiev was entitled to only two days off per month — a common practice in South Korea. Therefore, he rarely had time to spend money: he sent most of it to Russia to pay off his mortgage and support his mother.

He reflects: “I can’t say 100 percent how my mother feels about my departure. She’s the kind of person who will never honestly say what she thinks. I think she’s a bit calmer. Better to go to Korea than to be drafted.”

‘We don’t take Slavs’

Immigration service workers have often visited small businesses looking for undocumented workers, but last year the frequency and scale of raids increased. In 2023, a record number of 38,000 undocumented foreigners were identified in South Korea. According to foreigners living in the country, the approach of law enforcement has changed: They are now ambushed on the streets, whereas previously, document checks only happened at work. Regular police, who previously did not check for ID cards unless public order was violated, now participate in these street raids.

Photo by Ludi Baikala, used with permission.

These government efforts are not curbing the statistics. The number of workers lacking documentation in South Korea grew by 12,000 last year. Vladimir Tikhonov, a professor at the University of Oslo specializing in East Asian studies and Korean studies, believes these intensified raids are merely an attempt by unpopular President Yoon Suk-yeol, who came to power in 2022, to gain public approval. His party failed in the last parliamentary elections and 65 percent of citizens do not support the president's policies.

“That’s why his Ministry of Justice issued an ambitious plan stating that the number of illegal migrants would supposedly be reduced from 400,000 to 200,000. I remember similar plans being issued 10 and 15 years ago. None were successful,” says Tikhonov in an interview with Ludi Baikala.

South Korea is the fifth-largest car producer and the third-largest electronics producer globally, but lacks its own workforce for factory jobs. The country has the lowest birth rate in the world: 0.72 children per woman. Additionally, young Koreans do not want to work in low-paid and dangerous jobs.

“For large assembly lines producing the final product — ships, cars, mobile phones, where the salary is high — highly qualified personnel are required. Foreigners are not taken there. But underneath them, there are hundreds of thousands of small suppliers of parts for those same cars, ships, mobile phones — everything produced by the Korean industry. These are medium and small enterprises where working conditions are much worse and salaries are lower. Mostly foreigners go there,” says Tikhonov.

It's not only workers lacking proper papers who take these jobs. They are, in fact, a minority among foreigners working legally. A large source of labor is ethnic Koreans from other countries who can legally work. Some foreigners receive visas for low-skilled migrant workers and seasonal workers: Russians cannot do this because there is no corresponding agreement between the countries. Workers without proper documentation living in the country for many years say that due to competition with those who obtained proper papers, suitable vacancies are becoming less common. However, the flow of those wishing to earn money in South Korea does not dry up.

Those lacking documentation evade raids in different ways. Some go to work on remote islands where immigration police do not go. There, farm communities seek workers to grow seaweed. Some wait out the raid periods, usually announced in advance, losing income all the while. Immigrants with Asian looks find it easier to hide, as they attract less attention.

“In December and January, our employers did not hire people with Slavic appearance,” says Galina, an employee of one of Seoul's employment agencies. “Immigration workers will naturally approach if they see that someone is not Korean and ask for documents. Therefore, my boss told me directly that we were not taking Slavs for the time being. But those with Asian looks, we might still be able to place somewhere.”

Buryat heritage helped Dorzhiev find work

After changing several temporary jobs, Dorzhiev found work as a cleaner in a hotel.  In a team with two ethnic Koreans from Russia, Dorzhiev cleans rooms. Each room takes about ten minutes. He is responsible for changing the bed linen.

“I recently had three weeks without a day off. The last three days were fully booked, with sixty rooms. On the one hand, there is nothing complicated in changing bed linen. On the other hand, after the fiftieth duvet cover and the fiftieth sheet, you feel sick,” says Dorzhiev.

His two colleagues are his entire social circle because he fears leaving the hotel where he works and lives, and worries about another encounter with immigration police.

Workers lacking documentation, if caught, are later deported. The process is as follows: They are placed in an immigration jail where they await their flight. Usually, the person has to buy their own ticket. They are also fined. If the fee is paid, they can re-enter the country after some time. If not, they face a lifetime ban.

After the war in Ukraine began, Russian citizens found a way to legally stay in South Korea for several years. A “refugee visa” is issued to those seeking asylum in the country and awaiting their case review. The chances of obtaining refugee status are minimal: Only one percent of applications are approved. But one can wait for a court decision for several years.

In 2023, 5,750 Russian citizens sought asylum in South Korea. This is more than all the applications received from Russians from 1994–2019. It is impossible to say how many fled mobilization or genuinely faced political persecution at home. But in immigrant chats and video blogs of those living and working in South Korea, this visa is mentioned precisely as an opportunity to legally settle in the country to earn money.