In Seoul, the Korean barbecue restaurants and pubs near Konkuk University used to see more people in corporate attire than students, with many coming in for hwaesik , a post-work social gathering with colleagues that h as been a staple of South Korea ’s work culture since the 1960s. Diners are likely to tuck into the popular samgyeopsal, or grilled pork belly, with glasses of alcohol. As the evening progresses and the drinks flow, they may switch seats to chat with others, and then move on to a noraebang – karaoke joint – for more raucous cheer. South Korean dramas and movies have often featured office workers having drunken parties with their neckties around their head. But in the past year, the establishments once sustained by nightly hwaesik gatherings are feeling the pinch as these types of boozy work dinners are on the decline. Last year, 1,500 noraebangs in the country closed for good. Min Heung-ki, a noraebang owner who has been operating in Konkuk University’s food alley for more than 30 years, said: “If there were at least 10 teams per night just two years ago, there are only about three teams per night nowadays. It’s not just noraebangs that are closing down, many restaurants are shutting down as the number of customers have gone down tremendously.” South Korea’s famous hwaesik culture is undergoing a shift, accelerated by demographic and social trends. Younger workers in their 20s and 30s are less inclined towards attending the kind of company get-togethers that senior workers are used to. In 2018, employment website Saramin’s survey of 695 workers indicated that 61 per cent of workers in their 20s and 30s believed that hwaesiks were not a necessary component of work life, while only 32 per cent of employees in their 40s and 50s had the same opinion. How a masturbating monk and ‘Korea’s Obama’ drove Seoul to say ‘Me Too’ A new law passed in 2018 also makes it illegal for employees to work more than 52 hours a week, as the government attempts to improve work-life balance in a country which has the third-longest working hours among developed nations, according to the OECD. Job Korea, a job search website, last year polled 230 employees on whether they considered hwaesiks to be extensions of their work outside the required office hours. More than seven out of 10 respondents answered “yes” to the question. Then, there is the rise of the #MeToo movement, where women in South Korea have fought back against harassment and exposed several high-profile figures for sexual violations and abuse. A harassment protection law was instituted in July this year, ensuring companies would be scrutinised and penalised for advancing sexism and discrimination against women. Hwaesiks have been known to be an avenue where women workers experience sexual harassment. In 2017, the SBS News reported the account of a woman in her 30s who said a senior employee would always assign seats during hwaesiks to ensure he sat next to women. Female workers were also pressured to dance when the hwaesiks continued at karaoke joints. CHANGING CULTURE As Korean workplaces are seeing a mood shift, the way hwaesiks are being perceived by younger workers is also changing. Saramin’s survey conducted this year found that 64.5 per cent of respondents thought hwaesiks were voluntary, an increase from 55.1 per cent saying so in last year’s survey. Jang Dae-ik, 27, the CFO of a razor distributing start-up in Seoul, said his company now asks employees three weeks beforehand about their availability before scheduling the get-together. “So you can tell the boss if you can’t make it due to another commitment,” he said, adding that this was the case in his firm because most workers were in their 20s and 30s. Koreans nowadays are experts at separating their public and private lives. Kim Byung-gwan, Ajou University This stands in contrast with large corporations in South Korea, where new recruits in their early 20s commonly work with senior advisers in their late 50s. Jung Jae-hyun, 26, a new employee at a major semiconductor corporation in Seoul, says he feels obliged to attend the hwaesiks that his company schedules about three times a month. “Even if there is no real pressure to attend these events, I tend to prioritise hwaesiks as it is important to leave a good impression as a new recruit,” Jung said. Like Jung, there are employees who feel the pressure to attend hwaesiks. The South Korean dream: K-pop star, tech baron? Nope, it’s the civil service According to Saramin, 24.7 per cent of respondents in 2019 said they experienced negative consequences for not attending hwaesiks, including feeling left out in the workplace and having their chances of promotion being affected. But almost all respondents cheered the changes in hwaesik culture. The manager of Yuk Il-Gwan, a popular Korean barbecue restaurant at Konkuk University’s food alley, said he had noticed a particular change in the way older employees behaved towards their younger work mates in the last two years. “The biggest change that I’ve seen is that senior workers don’t force alcohol to other workers as they use to do just two years ago,” he said. MAKING HWAESHIKS COOL AGAIN Saramin’s latest survey found that despite most hwaesiks having at least some form of alcohol, only 20 per cent of respondents said they preferred these sorts of get-togethers. Others indicated they were more interested in having lunch with colleagues, trying new restaurants, watching movies or attending art exhibitions. “About once every two weeks, our team manager takes us out to lunch for pasta or Thai food and charges it to the company card,” said Kim Ji-ye, 32 , a researcher at a government-funded research institute in Seoul. She said that the more formal dinner parties with superiors or senior-ranking employees, which are usually what comes to mind when Koreans think about hwaesiks, take place far less often nowadays. “For obvious reasons, my colleagues and I prefer the former to the latter,” the researcher said. “I know many workers who make excuses to avoid attending a dinner party with senior colleagues.” South Korean women fight back against hidden-camera sex crimes At Common Ground – a shopping centre constructed from shipping containers, located just two blocks away from Konkuk University’s food alley – more office workers of all ages are coming in and snapping pictures of themselves in the container boxes for their Instagram feed. “Even two years ago, we wouldn’t see many office workers come into our brewery,” said Yoon Young-min, 28, the manager of the most popular brewery at Common Ground. “But younger employees are increasingly bringing their senior colleagues to places that are more hip and young than your average barbecue place.” Some companies have even banned hwaesiks altogether. Yoon said dinner sessions at E-land, a major corporate group where he used to work, were casual affairs as hwaesiks were formally banned. Kim Byung-gwan, a sociology professor at Ajou University, said the popularity of hwaesiks grew in the 1960s and 1970s, when South Korea’s economy was in the doldrums, and get-togethers were organised to give workers a morale boost and foster a sense of community. “Back when the country was poor, workers would even attend hwaesiks just to eat food,” the professor said. As South Korea has grown from being one of the world’s poorest nations to having the 11th largest economy today, the value of hwaesiks is changing, Kim said. “Just as baby showers have disappeared because people find it unnecessary and burdensome to attend a baby’s birthday, hwaesiks are starting to disappear as the need for them is dwindling,” he said. “If workplaces used to be a valuable community and colleagues acted as close companions in the past, today’s workers view their offices solely as a moneymaking place,” Kim said. “Koreans nowadays are experts at separating their public and private lives.”