For over a year, we, Korea’s medical students, have lived under the weight of institutional threats

What began as a disagreement over health policy escalated into an all-out campaign to silence us. We were told that if we resisted, we would be punished. At first, the punishment was supposed to be academic probation. But on May 2, 2025, something changed.

Despite university rules that previously allowed for probation or suspension, the government exerted pressure on school presidents, resulting in a sudden shift: Students would no longer be held back. We would be expelled.

No hearing. No dialogue. Just a quiet, devastating change.

Meanwhile, the public was told that we were selfish. That we were obstructing the future of exam-takers. That we were being dramatic. They called us “future elites” who would earn enough money later that we had no right to protest now.

If that were true, maybe we could endure it.

But the truth is, this government’s policy has not just threatened our present. It has attacked our future.

There is talk of banning new private clinics under a so-called “clinic approval system,” effectively limiting career paths for new doctors. Medical service fees are still below cost in many specialties. The government claims to be saving rural medicine but fails to mention that rural areas often lack patients, not doctors. And when serious conditions occur, patients from those very regions are transferred to Seoul anyway.

This is not health reform. This is political strategy.

We, Korea’s medical students and residents, were never offered a legitimate way to express dissent. We were punished for walking out, punished for speaking up, and now punished for simply existing inside a broken future. Even now, many residents face legal threats for non-compliance with return-to-work orders from 2024.

And yet, we have no collective support.

The public has moved on. The government keeps changing the story. The media repeats whatever frame is offered. And we, the very people expected to care for others, are being dismantled one policy at a time.

The worst part is that no one is watching. Until now.

May 8 is coming. We do not know what will be announced. But before the next official message is released to the world, I ask that this be heard:

We are not silent because we want to be.

We are silent because we were not allowed to speak.

And now, even silence has become dangerous.

The author is an anonymous medical student in South Korea.