South Korea’s café study culture, known as "Cagongjok", is reshaping public space usage and sparking debate over commercial responsibility and social infrastructure.
 |
| Cafés across South Korea are becoming unofficial study rooms for students under pressure. Photo Courtesy: BBC |
Seoul, South Korea — August 23, 2025:
South Korea’s stylish cafés, once symbols of urban leisure and social life, are increasingly transforming into unintentional co-working and study spaces. At the centre of this shift is a cultural phenomenon known as “Cagongjok” — a nickname for students and job seekers who turn cafés into day-long study zones.
But what’s really driving this behaviour, and why are cafés — not libraries, co-working spaces, or homes — becoming the default option for so many young South Koreans?
Earlier this month, Starbucks Korea rolled out new nationwide guidelines to address concerns over extreme "seat hogging." In some locations, customers had begun setting up full workstation setups: laptops, monitors, keyboards — even printers — sometimes leaving them unattended for hours.
The new policy doesn’t eject such customers but introduces “guidance” to encourage more considerate use. The move came in response not just to practical issues like table availability or theft risks, but to growing frustration among customers who say they can no longer use cafés for conversation or leisure.
However, this trend reflects something far deeper than misuse of space.
Cagongjok culture has exploded in the last decade, coinciding with South Korea's skyrocketing number of coffee shops — now nearing 100,000. But its roots lie in more than caffeine and convenience.
South Korea's youth face intense academic competition, job insecurity, and housing constraints. Many live in cramped, windowless homes not suited for study. Libraries and study cafés often feel rigid or suffocating.
“For me, cafés are a safe place,” says Yu-jin Mo, 29, who grew up in foster care. “As soon as I wake up, I go to one. I tried libraries, but they felt cold.”
Even café owners acknowledge the situation isn’t black and white. Hyun Sung-joo, who runs a café in Seoul's Daechi district, said most customers are respectful, even ordering additional drinks if they stay long. But he recently had to block off power outlets after one customer set up two laptops and a six-plug power strip — and stayed the entire day.
For independent cafés, especially in high-rent areas, accommodating long-staying Cagongjok can be financially risky. Some, like a café in Jeonju, have imposed time limits or even banned studying altogether to avoid customer conflicts.
Yet cutting off the Cagongjok may alienate a core group of regulars who depend on cafés not just for productivity, but for comfort and community.
“This is a youth culture created by the society we’ve built,” says Professor Choi Ra-young of Ansan University, who studies lifelong education. “They might be seen as a nuisance, but they’re also victims of structural issues — the lack of space, the pressure to perform, and the absence of support.”
What’s unfolding in South Korean cafés is not just a generational quirk — it's a societal misalignment. When commercial spaces like cafés become default public spaces for youth, it reveals a failure to provide alternatives.
Starbucks’ approach of non-confrontational “guidance” reflects the awkwardness of navigating a culture that blurs private needs with public settings. Meanwhile, small café owners walk a tightrope between empathy and economics.
The Cagongjok phenomenon poses a larger question: How can urban environments be designed to meet the diverse needs of a pressured generation without turning every third place into a battleground of expectations?
Creating more inclusive public study spaces and expanding affordable co-working or library-style venues may be part of the answer. But until systemic issues — academic stress, poor housing, and economic pressure — are addressed, cafés may continue serving as lifelines for South Korea’s overstretched youth.
The question is not whether Cagongjok should be in cafés, but why they have nowhere else to go.