Rural community centers become blind spot in senior conflicts

Two years ago, in the fall, I traveled to Sweden to cover their pension reform system. As part of the assignment, I visited the elderly community center “Powerhuset” in Gnesta, about 50 kilometers southwest of Stockholm. It was my first time setting foot in a senior center in over 30 years. When I was young, my parents worked, so after school, I often spent time at the local community center with my grandmother until dinner. I remember the elderly passing the time playing games such as "hwatu" and low-stakes "go-stop." Watching my grandmother play cards for hours on end as a child seemed monotonous.

I couldn’t help but wonder what might be different at a Swedish community center in a country renowned for its elderly welfare. The elderly women gathered there were not so different from those I remembered in South Korea, but instead of cards, they were holding knitting needles. The facility itself was larger and more modern, surrounded by a walking track for a kilometer-long exercise program. Every Friday, they offered digital literacy classes, teaching seniors how to use smartphones and computers.

What struck me most was how the center was managed. Powerhuset is co-run by Sweden’s two largest pensioners’ organizations: the Swedish Pensioners’ Organization (PRO) and the Swedish Senior Citizens’ Association (SPF). PRO is a non-profit affiliated with the Social Democrats, and SPF is a coalition of other political parties.

The pensioners' organizations didn’t just run elderly centers. In 1986, PRO established a travel agency called "Grand Tour," offering travel programs tailored to the elderly. They also operate a folk high school (folkhgskola) for adult lifelong learning and a lottery business.

There are five such pensioners’ organizations in Sweden. “Though these organizations have different political leanings, our shared mission is to fight the loneliness that comes with aging,” said Margareta Berrydahl, the 72-year-old head of PRO’s Gnesta branch. “We organize activities, foster community, and compete to provide better services, all while mediating conflicts among the elderly.

These memories of my time in Sweden surfaced unexpectedly on July 15, following the disturbing “pesticide coffee” incident at a senior center in Bonghwa, North Gyeongsang Province, South Korea. An 80-year-old woman, who was later identified as the suspect, passed away before the investigation concluded. The police closed the case in late July, citing her death, though they noted that card games were regularly played at the center and tensions between her and other members had been reported.

South Korea is set to become a super-aged society next year, with over 20% of the population aged 65 and older. Yet, the reality in many of the country’s senior centers remains unchanged after decades—card games still dominate the social scene. As generational conflicts rise and more elderly people face isolation, poverty, and illness, minor disputes have escalated into tragic violence. The Bonghwa incident wasn’t isolated: similar events, such as the 2015 “pesticide cider” case in Sangju, the 2016 “pesticide soju” case in Cheongsong, and the 2018 “pesticide mackerel stew” case in Pohang, point to a disturbing pattern.

With over 68,000 senior centers nationwide, most controlled by the Korea Senior Citizens Association, there is growing concern over whether the organization is equipped to address the increasingly complex issues facing the elderly. As South Korea enters this new demographic reality, both the government and society need to urgently reconsider how to create more meaningful, supportive communities for its aging population.