Death as an Industry: How South Korea’s Ageing, Lonely Society Is Fueling a Rise in Funeral and Cleanup Services

Rows of coffins line a university classroom in Busan, arranged to train the next generation of funeral directors as South Korea grapples with rapid demographic change and rising solitary living.

With birth rates among the lowest in the world and nearly half the population aged 50 or older, demand for death-care services is growing. At the Busan Institute of Science and Technology, students dressed a mannequin in traditional funeral clothing, smoothing the cloth as if preparing a real person for a final farewell.

“With our society ageing, I thought the demand for this kind of work would only grow,”

said Jang Jin-yeong, 27, a funeral administration student. Another trainee, 23-year-old Im Sae-jin, chose the field after attending his grandmother’s funeral. “At her funeral, I saw how beautifully the directors had prepared her for the final farewell,” he said. “I felt deeply grateful.”

Lives Seen Through the Objects Left Behind

As single-person households now account for around 42% of homes, a new line of work has emerged: specialists who clear and sanitise apartments after so-called "lonely deaths." Former classical musician Cho Eun-seok, 47, has cleaned many such flats, sometimes months after the occupant died. “Their homes are like their portraits,” he told AFP, pointing to neatly capped soju bottles, dusty unopened gifts and other intimate traces of everyday life.

South Korea records one of the highest suicide rates among developed countries, and many lonely deaths are linked to suicide. Cho has also been asked to clean vehicles used in suicides and is developing a device to detect unattended deaths early, warning that decomposition can damage the environment, attract pests and force the disposal of an entire household’s belongings. “In summer, the smell spreads fast,” he said, “and nothing can be saved.”

More Than Just Cleaning

Clearing these homes can require compassion, creativity and care. Kim Seok-jung, a funeral worker, discovered an unpublished set of songs left by a late lyricist and arranged them into a piece for the grieving relatives. Cho remembers a teenage survivor of domestic violence who lived in a tiny gosiwon room. He visited monthly to clean because she struggled with depression; after she died by suicide, Cho found she had been protecting a small box that housed a pet hamster and her guitar—tokens of a life and dreams left behind.

Veterans in the sector say younger recruits are increasingly joining the profession. “When people live together, they share things… even if one person dies, those items remain. But when someone dies alone, everything must be cleared away,” said Kim Doo-nyeon.

Back in the classroom in Busan, Im admitted the emotional difficulty of the work. “I am scared,” he said. “No matter how much you prepare, facing a deceased person is frightening.”

cdl/oho/pbt — Reporting based on interviews and observations in Busan; translated and edited for clarity.