August 7, 2025
SEOUL – Ki-cheol, who uses a pseudonym, was born in South Korea in 2002 and has lived in the country his entire life. Yet, he still has no permanent place in the only country he has ever known.
Because his parents were undocumented migrants from Mongolia, Ki-cheol was also never registered at birth — neither in Korea nor in his parents’ home country.
“For most of my life, I was like a ghost due to my undocumented status,” the 23-year-old told The Korea Herald. “There were no official records of my birth or of my existence in either my parents’ home country or Korea, and I basically spent my entire life without legal status.”
Ki-cheol became one of the beneficiaries of a pilot program that began in 2021 here, issuing permits to stay for unregistered children. The permits allow holders to study or work, as well as access to other basic services, such as seeing a doctor with national health insurance and opening a bank account.
Permit holders may apply for visas for job seeking (D-10) and employment without a college degree (E-7-Y) if they are between 18 and 24 years old and lived in Korea for more than seven years before turning 18.
But it is only a temporary solution. The pilot program, due to end in December, was extended for another three years in March, but there is nothing waiting to take its place after that.
“I’m going to graduate soon and it makes me wonder — what’s going to happen to me if I can’t get a job after I graduate? Will I be kicked out of Korea after 2028?” Ki-cheol said.
Ki-cheol is one of thousands born in Korea who have been overlooked by Korea’s birth registration system.
Even under the mandatory birth notification system implemented last year, which requires hospitals to report a child’s birth, the obligation does not apply to babies born to foreign mothers.
Foreign parents living illegally in South Korea often avoid registering their children’s births here for fear of detection.
“Many undocumented foreign parents fail to register their newborn babies as they fear getting deported,” Oh Chang-jong, lead representative of a nongovernmental organization Big Smile Children, told The Korea Herald. “Some children are also left behind in Korea on their own while the parents return to their home countries.”
According to the Board of Audit and Inspection, from 2015 to 2022 there were a cumulative 4,025 unregistered babies born to foreign mothers here, amounting to 65 percent of those unregistered in Korea. These figures only reflect births at medical facilities.
These unregistered children are typically unable to access basic rights in Korea, such as health care, legal identity, civil participation, security of residence and legal protection.
“Unregistered foreign children cannot enroll in universal health care, so visiting a clinic to treat even a common cold is out of the question for these children,” Oh said, adding that they are not eligible for disability benefits and emergency treatments for them are often unaffordable.
While the right of unregistered children to attend grade school is protected under the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, it is impossible for them to enroll in higher education without an official visa status. Even graduating from high school can be problematic.
“If they’re not legally registered, these children cannot take part in hands-on training even if they’re enrolled in vocational high schools, making it difficult for them to graduate,” Oh added.
Growing up unregistered has posed many limitations in Ki-cheol’s life.
Once an aspiring professional soccer player, Ki-cheol recalled moments as a teenager when he was forced to stop chasing his dream despite his talent and skill.
“Even though I wanted to join a professional league, I couldn’t. I even received offers from some, but my legal status was the issue every time,” Ki-cheol said.
It was only three years ago that Ki-cheol was granted a permit to stay in Korea.
In April 2021, the Ministry of Justice began to grant temporary stay permits to undocumented foreign children born in Korea. The permits have to be renewed every year. While such permits were initially given to those who had lived here for more than 15 years, the requirement was loosened to six to seven years in 2022.
The program also enabled Ki-cheol and most other permit holders to obtain citizenship in their parents’ home country, even though many of them, like Ki-cheol, have lived in Korea their whole lives and identify as Korean.
Attaining Mongolian citizenship in 2022, Ki-cheol considered himself “lucky” because he was admitted to a college in Korea with the citizenship of a country whose language he could barely speak.
Ki-cheol, however, said some unregistered children remain undocumented and are not eligible for permits “because they weren’t able to submit documents somehow certifying their birth.”
The permit program was due to expire by the end of this year, but the Justice Ministry in March extended the program by three more years.
While the permit allowed unregistered kids to enjoy some basic rights that “once felt like luxuries,” Ki-cheol said the program’s temporary nature makes the situation feel like a “ticking time bomb.”
“Of course, we’re thankful,” said Ki-cheol. “But the fact that it’s temporary and we have no idea how our futures are going to unfold in the next few years leaves us feeling extremely anxious.”
Regarding the temporary nature of the Justice Ministry’s measure, human rights lawyer Jeon Min-kyung told The Korea Herald that it was “regrettable.”
“To solve this issue, we need solutions that won’t just be a fix for a certain number of unregistered foreign babies, but a solution for all, to ensure no one falls through the cracks of the legal system,” Jeon said.
Ki-cheol says ongoing visa uncertainty is holding him back from pursuing career options.
Under the Justice Ministry’s current measures, Ki-cheol could have trouble if he fails to find work soon after graduation from college, because a D-10 job seeker visa provides only temporary status.
“I want to explore different career paths in sports so that I can continue pursuing my passion in this field,” he said. “But now, with all this uncertainty. I feel like it’s better to just give up on my dreams and get any job that hires me quickly.”
Advocates are now calling on Korea to implement a universal birth registration system guaranteeing that every child born in the country — regardless of their parents’ nationality or legal status — has the right to be officially recognized.
According to Article 7 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, every child must be registered immediately after birth. As Korea ratified this convention in 1991, it is legally obligated to follow related international standards.
“The Korean government has been urged by the UN numerous times over the years, since 2011, to adopt a universal birth registration system that vulnerable foreign nationals can also use to register their children,” professor Hyun So-hea from Sungkyunkwan University’s School of Law told The Korea Herald. “Fourteen years have passed, and the system is still not in place.”
Lawmakers have introduced several proposals in the National Assembly to create a universal birth registration system. However, none of the proposed bills have been formally reviewed in legislative sessions.
Although some might blame the delay on fears that a universal birth registration system would cause a surge in the number of undocumented foreign nationals, Jeon points to precedents in other countries that she says indicate “no proof that such a registration system will lead to an increase” in illegal immigration.
“Universal birth registration is a matter of dignity, protection and inclusion,” Jeon added.
The implementation of the system could have made a difference to Ki-cheol’s life path.
“I had a dream, but Korea, which I consider my home country, couldn’t let that dream become reality for me,” Ki-cheol said.
