Spain's immigration challenge offers lessons for Korea

Yim Ho-joon

The author is a professor in the Department of Hispanic Language and Literature at Seoul National University and president of the Korean Association of Hispanists.

I recently returned from Madrid after leading students on a three-week summer program exploring Spanish society, culture and art. Among the subjects raised in lectures by local experts, immigration emerged as the hottest issue. Spain has a large immigrant population, with nearly 10 million people of immigrant origin, roughly 20 percent of its 49.44 million residents.

The students debated immigration intensely because Spain’s circumstances bear a striking resemblance to Korea’s. Spain is similar to Korea in population and economic scale and is also one of Europe’s lowest-fertility countries, recording a total fertility rate of 1.1 in 2025.

Local experts cited chronic youth unemployment and high housing costs as major causes. A shortage of good jobs and soaring home prices have delayed young people’s independence and marriage, depressing births. They warned that low fertility could bring similarly serious consequences for Korea.

Spain is particularly concerned because prolonged low fertility is accelerating population aging. In a country where older people depend heavily on pensions, aging threatens the financial sustainability of the pension system. Spain has therefore reformed pensions, gradually raising the statutory retirement age from 65 toward 67.

This is not a question of maintaining population. With fewer workers entering the labor force and more retirees drawing benefits, the balance between contributors and recipients deteriorates. Immigration has consequently become part of Spain’s response to demographic pressure rather than merely a humanitarian or cultural issue.

Faced with the triple challenge of low fertility, aging and pension pressures, Spain has turned to active immigration. Historically, the country has experience coexisting with other cultures. Muslim rule and settlement lasted for more than 700 years during the Middle Ages, alongside substantial Jewish communities.

That coexistence ended as Christian kingdoms pursued the Reconquista, or “reconquest,” culminating in 1492. Religious intolerance led to the expulsion of Jews and later Muslims, contributing to a period of historical decline. That painful experience arguably helped Spain evolve into one of Europe’s more open countries toward immigration in the 21st century.

The economic benefits have been visible. Spain, once seen as an epicenter of the eurozone crisis in the early 2010s, has recorded growth well above the eurozone average since the Covid-19 pandemic, becoming one of the European Union’s stronger-performing economies. Large numbers of immigrants have played an essential role by filling low-wage manual jobs that many Spaniards avoid.

Yet Spanish attitudes toward immigrants reveal a clear duality. Latin American immigrants, who share historical, linguistic and religious roots with Spain, are generally viewed as integrating successfully. There is greater wariness toward immigrants from regions with more different cultural backgrounds. Restricting immigration by nationality, however, would conflict with international human rights norms, leaving Spanish society with a difficult dilemma.

The dilemma is especially acute because workers who help sustain growth can also become the focus of political conflict when integration fails or public perceptions turn negative. Economic necessity and social acceptance do not automatically move together, making immigration policy difficult.

Immigration policy therefore has both benefits and risks and requires careful strategy. Recently, the governing Socialist Workers’ Party announced a large-scale regularization allowing roughly 500,000 undocumented migrants who entered Spain before Dec. 31, 2025 and had stayed for at least five months to obtain residence and work authorization.

The move was followed late last month by an extraordinary influx into Ceuta, the Spanish enclave bordering Morocco, where tens of thousands of African migrants crossed irregularly in a short period. Because the Schengen system permits largely border-free movement among participating European countries, the episode quickly became an issue extending beyond Spain.

Critics have also accused the governing party of pushing such a sensitive policy too hastily, arguing that it hopes to make immigration an election issue and mobilize progressive voters ahead of the next general election. Whatever the political calculation, the controversy demonstrates how immigration policy can rapidly become entangled with domestic polarization and broader European concerns.

For Korea, Spain’s experience provides grounds for both optimism and caution. Spain shows that immigration can help revive an economy confronting demographic decline, labor shortages and population aging. Immigrant workers can fill gaps in the labor market, sustain economic activity and broaden the base supporting an aging society.

That distinction matters for Korea, where demographic decline is proceeding and debate over foreign workers is likely to intensify. Simply increasing arrivals would not guarantee successful immigration policy. The institutions receiving newcomers and the communities living alongside them matter as much.

At the same time, Spain demonstrates how poorly managed immigration can generate serious social confusion and division when it is not accompanied by careful public consensus and sophisticated integration programs.

Korea should therefore study Spain’s experience closely rather than treating immigration either as an easy solution to demographic decline or as a threat to be rejected. Through sustained public deliberation, it must design cautious policies for accepting immigrants and integrating them into society.