36 Asia The EconomistSeptember 28th 2019
21nial work, but also to ensure that those who
arrived had certain rights and protections,
says Ms Chun. Over the past decade the
number of foreigners living in the country
has nearly doubled, from 1.2m in 2009 to
2.4m in 2018, according to official data, out
of a total population of 52m.
Most of the new arrivals move to Seoul
or to its suburbs in Gyeonggi, the province
next door. The capital, where most of those
on professional visas end up, has acquired
many of the trappings of a globalised me-
tropolis over the past few years, with lots of
high-end coffee shops, bars illuminated by
unshaded filament light bulbs and co-
working spaces that would not be out of
place in London, New York or Copenhagen.
South Gyeongsang, the province in
which Gimhae is located, has the highest
concentration of foreign residents outside
the capital region. In Gimhae just over 5%
of the local population is not South Korean,
much more than in other provincial towns.
Most of the foreign labourers work for the
many small suppliers to the local carmak-
ing and shipbuilding industries.
The cosmopolitan smorgasbord of the
market area is not the only sign of this in-
flux. Much of the space in the city centre
not filled by exotic restaurants is occupied
by shops offering international phone
plans and remittances. Unusually, many of
them are open on Sundays to cater to for-
eign workers on their day off.
On a weekday morning South Korean
passers-by are vastly outnumbered by
those from other parts of Asia, a rarity in a
country that is usually striking for its ho-
mogeneity. A local shopkeeper says nearly
all of his customers are foreigners. He has
staff from several countries to offer sales
advice in multiple languages. The town
also boasts a Filipino football team and a
book club run by immigrant brides, which
meets in Ms Chun’s support centre every
weekend. Many of the members have also
found work as interpreters at the centre,
helping those who arrive after them to
navigate their new home.
In a glitzy new shopping centre just five
minutes’ drive from the old market, how-
ever, the only hint of foreign influence is a
branch of Starbucks, a global coffee chain.
Throughout the city, there is little integra-
tion between the new arrivals and resi-
dents of longer standing. According to Ms
Chun, most locals were initially scared of
the influx of immigrants. Now many of
them volunteer at the support centre, al-
though the way she describes their work
suggests a certain paternalism. “There’s
this choir of old ladies, they treat the work-
ers at the centre like their own children.”
Even the unusual restaurants do not at-
tract many Korean customers. “Some
younger Koreans come because they are
curious about the food, but not many,” says
a 36-year-old Filipina barista in a coffeeshopnearthemarket.Hersocialcirclecon-
sistsmainlyofotherimmigrantwomen,
eventhoughherhusbandisKorean.Shear-
rivedinGimhae 12 yearsagoandsaysthe
bestthingaboutlivinginthetownisbeing
abletoworkandtosendherchildrentolo-
calschools.Shesaysherchildren,a girland
aboy,aresweetandobedientandthor-
oughly integrated. “They love playing
gameson theirphones and go to cram
schooland taekwondountiltheevening,
justlikeotherSouthKoreankids.” 7S
itting in thebuzzing plaza at the heart
of Sunway University near Kuala Lum-
pur, Malaysia’s capital, representatives
from online job platforms await students.
Many are youngsters themselves, ready to
dispense friendly advice about buffing up
cvs. So far the documents passed to them
have been uninspiring. One reckons candi-
dates would fare better if their schooling
had taught them more practical skills, such
as how to craft a job application. Employers
are also looking for fluent English-speak-
ers, he notes.
Malaysian youths are in need of such
advice. The overall unemployment rate is
around 3%, but among those aged 15-24 it is
over 10%. Young people frequently relocate
in the hunt for a job. “The number one ex-port of Perak isn’t pomelos or rice, it’s tal-
ent,” laments Howard Lee, a young politi-
cian from the relatively sleepy, fast-ageing
state. The Muslim Youth Movement of Ma-
laysia estimates that perhaps half of
youngsters in rural states leave for the
bright lights of big cities.
Moving is not a guarantee of employ-
ment, however. Even those who relocate
are often short of work. According to the
central bank, more than 173,000 holders of
tertiary qualifications entered the work-
force between 2010 and 2017. But fewer
than 99,000 high-skilled jobs were created
during the same period. A sales representa-
tive for a telemarketing firm in Kuala Lum-
pur, who moved there from Perak, com-
plains that he has to work as a driver for a
ride-hailing platform at weekends to make
ends meet.
The good news for young Malaysians is
that their political clout is growing. In July
the government lowered the voting age
from 21 to 18. That change, combined with
the relative youthfulness of Malaysia’s
population and the relatively lengthy per-
iod—five years—between elections, means
that by the time of the next election, due to
be held in 2023, almost 8m people will be
eligible to vote for the first time. There were
only 15m eligible voters at the most recent
election, last year, so the new cohort will
constitute well over a third of the elector-
ate. Understanding their concerns will be
essential for political success.
This new cohort may prove a tricky
bunch to please. Young people find politics
comic, says one teenager. “It isn’t taken se-
riously and that needs to change.” An am-
biguous survey conducted after last year’s
election by the Merdeka Centre, a polling
outfit, gives an inkling of young voters’KUALA LUMPUR
Young Malaysians have big economic
worries—and growing political cloutMalaysia’s youth voteIt’s the economy,
bodoh!
Coasting toward a new kind of politics