Reflections on Service and Conscription in the S. Korean Army

By Seung Ho Choi

Before I share my thoughts on the Korean military, I want to clarify that everything here is based solely on my personal experience during my year and a half of service. In South Korea, all healthy males are required to serve in the military for approximately 18 months. This mandatory conscription exists largely because the Korean War technically never ended—we remain in a state of truce with North Korea.

Mandatory service, as many in other conscription-based countries might understand, comes with serious complications. On paper, the South Korean military ranks among the top in the world. But from someone who actually served, I can tell you: the reality is different.

I served from March 2019 to September 2020 in the 3rd Infantry Division—one of the most well-known and respected divisions in Korea. Despite that, the truth was disappointing. Most soldiers don’t serve out of pride or patriotism. They serve to avoid criminal penalties—up to five years of imprisonment for dodging the draft. This creates a military force largely unmotivated to be professional “soldiers.”

Why is that the case? A big part of it is that there are very few real benefits to serving. Of course, citizens have a duty to protect their country. But when that duty becomes so normalized that it’s mistaken for an obligation—or worse, a free labor resource—the incentives and respect for that service begin to vanish.

A key example is the 1999 abolishment of the extra points veterans used to receive in civil service exams. Once considered a fair reward, the Constitutional Court ruled it unconstitutional, saying military service had become too universal to merit special treatment. When the government itself no longer sees military service as a sacrifice worth compensating, public perception inevitably follows.

Another issue lies in how the job market views men who served versus those who didn’t. Ironically, someone who couldn’t serve for legitimate medical reasons and was assigned to alternative service (e.g., public service worker) often faces bias in hiring—viewed as “less” than regular soldiers. This further pressures healthy young men to serve, regardless of their aspirations, because not doing so may hurt their careers.

But what do we actually get in return? You finish your service around age 21–23 and return to find your female peers already advancing in their careers. Meanwhile, you’ve been working 55 hours a week, including night duties, in uniform—getting paid only $263.10/month. That’s far below minimum wage, even back in 2019.

Everything was provided—housing, food, clothing—but the conditions were outdated and frustrating. For instance, the canteens we used were so old they looked like relics from World War II. When I raised concerns about drinking from them, the Sergeant Major told me to just pour boiling water inside to sterilize them. That was our “solution.”

As an artillery soldier, I expected to become proficient with my equipment. In reality, we only fired live shells once or twice during our entire service. I was fortunate to fire three times because of my high performance, but even that’s minimal. Why the lack of training? Simple: there isn’t enough funding to replace the expensive shells. We were told to conserve resources. During our MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) exam—which only happened four times a year, we even had to pick up our spent shell casings after shooting. That says everything about the resource limitations.

During field training, we weren’t given fake rifles, blanks, or simulation equipment. We used our voices to mimic gunfire—saying things like “pew pew pew”or“boom! kaboom!” It may sound comedic, but it was real. This is how we trained. And remember, this was the 3rd Infantry Division—a division known for its prestige in Korea.

While researching the Korean military later, I noticed how the public narrative is overwhelmingly positive. But the reality on the ground is a different story. The purpose of writing this is to shine light on what it’s really like behind the curtain.

During my time at Temple University in the U.S., I interned as a personal trainer with their ROTC program. There, I saw what proper training and resources look like: soldiers had access to screen-based shooting simulations, red dot sights (in Korea, we only used iron sights), and military-specific physical tests like the ACFT. In contrast, our fitness tests in Korea were basic: a 3km run, 2-minute push-ups, and 2-minute sit-ups.

The contrast was disheartening. It made me reflect on how much of my experience in the Korean military was built on outdated systems, lack of support, and misplaced expectations.