by Wonsuh Song
I traveled to Korea with my child, coming from Japan where I currently reside. Since my weekdays were packed with various appointments, I had eagerly anticipated doing some shopping on a weekend morning. Yet when I arrived at a large supermarket, I found its shutters firmly closed. Confused at first, I suddenly remembered: in Korea, certain Sundays are designated mandatory closing days for large retailers.
I couldn’t help but feel a bit bewildered. “Does nobody think of Sunday grocery shopping? Don’t people here find it inconvenient?” The thought came to me naturally, but those around me simply shrugged and said, “That’s just how things are,” with little more than a nod. For me, it was rather curious, yet I also wondered, “Is it really fine to just accept this?”
I do understand the rationale behind it. A policy restricting large retailers from operating on certain Sundays was introduced over a decade ago to protect traditional markets and local commercial districts. There’s little dispute about the value of these traditional markets as cultural fixtures. However, times have changed. Some neighborhoods now have small businesses boosted by significant investments, while many dual-income families or older people—who may not be comfortable with online shopping—can only manage their grocery runs on weekends.
The principle of “protecting local businesses” may be widely accepted, but is closing big supermarkets really the best or only approach? Many experts point out that enhancing traditional markets through improved facilities, better parking options, or cultural events might be more effective than simply curbing larger retail stores. Investing in making traditional markets more attractive shopping destinations could yield more positive outcomes than merely shutting down the bigger competitors.
Moreover, in areas without large shopping malls or department stores, residents already face limited options. If large supermarkets close on Sundays as well, how are people supposed to cope? One might suggest that they just shop at local stores, but as people often say, restricting large-scale retailers can ultimately limit consumer choice.
From the viewpoint of someone who has returned briefly from abroad, this system may seem a bit strange. Yet for those who live in Korea full-time, it might just be one more mundane fact of life. Even so, the question remains: how effective is the original goal of protecting local businesses, really? Once a policy is enacted, it can sometimes lose sight of its initial purpose or shift over time. I’m aware that it’s not necessarily my place to comment, but I still recall the moment I stood outside the closed store, feeling slightly baffled and disappointed. If this measure is to continue, I hope that policymakers will also consider complementary strategies that balance the interests of local merchants and the convenience of consumers.
This small surprise at a closed store on a Sunday morning might seem trivial, yet it serves as a reminder that such policies warrant a closer look. Just as you might pause during a toast to see if you’re really quenching your thirst, we might ask whether mandatory Sunday closures truly fill the cup labeled “local business protection”—or if the cup is only partially full. Before pouring out more of this “policy,” perhaps it’s time to make sure it really benefits the people for whom it was intended.
Wonsuh Song (Ph.D.)
Full-time Lecturer, Faculty of School Teacher Education, Shumei University
Adjunct Lecturer, Faculty of Education, Waseda University
Visiting Researcher, Center for Spatial Information Science, University of Tokyo
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