2025-07-15T23:12:00Z

On the third floor of a community centre located in the bustling Dongdaemun district of eastern Seoul, a gentle hum emanates from a massage chair positioned at the entrance of a spacious room—a welcome respite from the intense summer heat outside. Inside, the atmosphere is alive with soft sounds: the faint beeps of a touchscreen board game, subdued conversations wafting from the cooking area, and the soft rustle of pages being turned.

Among the visitors is Eom Mi-hui, a 53-year-old woman who has found solace in the centre’s offerings. She settles into an infrared foot spa, her expression transforming to one of contentment. “This feels really nice,” Eom remarks. “My body isn’t feeling great, so I think the foot spa helps.” After a brief respite, she transitions to the nearby massage chair, savoring the comfort it provides.

This community centre is one of Seoul’s pioneering “mind convenience stores” designed to provide comfort and companionship for residents grappling with loneliness. These spaces offer a tranquil environment where individuals can enjoy a simple meal, partake in recreational activities, or simply spend time in the presence of others without the pressure to engage in conversation. The philosophy behind these centres underscores the importance of even passive interactions in alleviating feelings of isolation prevalent in the city. For those seeking deeper emotional support, trained counsellors are readily available.

Seoul, a vibrant metropolis with a population approaching 10 million, has witnessed a significant rise in single-person households, which have surged from 16% to nearly 40% in just over two decades. A 2022 study conducted by the Seoul Institute revealed that a staggering 62% of these single-person households reported feelings of loneliness. Moreover, city estimates indicate that around 130,000 young individuals are grappling with social isolation, highlighting a critical need for intervention.

In stark contrast, nationwide statistics from 2023 showed that over 3,600 “lonely deaths” were recorded—individuals who passed away alone and remained undiscovered for an extended period. In response to this alarming trend, Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon launched the “Seoul without loneliness” initiative late last year. This ambitious five-year programme, backed by a substantial investment of 451.3 billion won (approximately £242 million), aims to address the multifaceted issue of loneliness, which is intrinsically linked to low happiness levels, elevated suicide rates, and an increase in depression.

Eom, who lives alone and has faced her own battles with mental health, discovered the centre through a newsletter distributed in her district. “When you’re feeling low, staying at home just makes things worse,” she reflects. “There’s really nowhere to go, and even putting on shoes can feel like a monumental task. But when I know there’s a place like this, I think, ‘I’ll go there’, and suddenly, coming out seems easier.”

The Dongdaemun location is one of four pilot sites that opened its doors in March. The “convenience store” concept is intentionally designed to avoid the stigma often associated with mental health services while drawing on a familiar aspect of Korean culture. Pyeonuijeom, or convenience stores, serve as neighborhood hubs where locals frequently drop in to purchase snacks or beverages throughout the day.

This cultural resonance makes the Dongdaemun centre feel accessible and inviting. As Eom aptly describes it: “It’s like a mix of a café and a convenience store.” Kim Se-heon, a representative from Seoul’s newly established anti-loneliness department, emphasizes a shift in approach. “The loneliness policies we previously had in our country were primarily focused on individuals in crisis points of isolation. However, we realized that we needed to address loneliness itself—the subjective emotional state that often precedes withdrawal and isolation.”

In addition to the mind convenience stores, the city has implemented various other initiatives, including a 24-hour loneliness hotline launched in April. By early July, the hotline had received over 10,000 calls—far exceeding its annual target of 3,000. Of these calls, nearly 6,000 were from individuals seeking conversation due to feelings of loneliness, with the demographic breakdown revealing 63% were middle-aged, 31% young adults, and a mere 5% seniors.

At the Dongdaemun site, visitors are prompted to complete a brief five-question loneliness assessment prior to utilizing the facilities. They are encouraged to prepare instant noodles, with meal frequency tailored to their assessed level of isolation. Lee Won-tae, a 51-year-old who frequents the centre, has integrated it into his daily routine. New to the area and still forging connections, he visits nearly every day as part of a walking regimen due to mobility issues.

“I don’t have many close friends yet,” Lee admits. “I walk a lot, but when I go too far, it becomes difficult. I come here, take a break, then continue on my way.” Like Eom, he finds solace in the absence of pressure to socialize extensively. “Just being able to rest in a place like this feels more right for me.”

Yoo Dong-heon, the social worker overseeing the operations at the Dongdaemun Mind Convenience Store, notes that interest in the centre has surpassed expectations, with a steady uptick in daily visitors. “People come not just from other districts in Seoul but from cities outside the capital, including Gimpo, Uijeongbu, and even Ansan,” he reveals.

“This morning, someone came who had attempted suicide multiple times, with visible wounds on their hands,” Yoo shares. “For individuals in such dire circumstances, we immediately connect them to welfare services.”

Peer support plays a crucial role at the centre, exemplified by Lee In-sook, a volunteer “healing activity counsellor.” Rather than providing quick fixes, she offers something perhaps more profound: the understanding that others have traversed similar paths. After enduring the end of her marriage following more than two decades, Lee faced overwhelming despair while raising two children without financial support.

“I became powerless and didn’t want to do anything,” she recalls. “But I had children to raise, so I had to pull myself together.” Her healing journey was lengthy and challenging, yet now she utilizes her experience to guide others who are struggling. “Young people worry about jobs and the future. Middle-aged individuals face economic hardships and forced retirement, while seniors contend with issues of poverty and health.”

Working at the centre once a week, Lee adopts a patient approach. “Some individuals come here and won’t talk to strangers initially. That’s perfectly normal. However, as they become familiar with the space, they begin to feel more comfortable sharing.” For her, the centre embodies something that formal services often overlook: the value of authentic human connection.

“That’s something money can’t buy,” she concludes, emphasizing the importance of relationships in healing and recovery.