On the 15th at 8 a.m., Anyang Prison in Anyang, Gyeonggi Province. After going through strict screening and stepping inside the prison building, the interior was dark and damp enough to make the bright spring day beyond the bars seem irrelevant. Pipes were exposed on the ceiling, and a musty odor rose from the cracked concrete walls and wet floor.
After passing two to three iron doors and screening stations, we completed the "newcomer procedure," which included filling out paperwork, undergoing a physical exam, and changing into a blue inmate uniform. During this process, they also ask whether to notify family of the incarceration. In that moment, the faces of family members flashed by like a revolving lantern. A correctional officer said, "Not a few inmates ask us not to notify their families."
◇16 people in a 7.5-pyeong room… lunch eaten in front of the toilet
After passing two more iron doors, we entered a communal cell on the second floor of the housing unit. It is the space where inmates eat and sleep outside working hours, the so-called "cell." While actual inmates had gone out to work that day, reporters went in instead.
In the 24.6㎡ (about 7.5-pyeong) room, 16 reporters in inmate uniforms and two correctional officers sat in a circle. The space was originally made to hold nine people, but in reality an average of 15 to 16 live there. Once everyone sat down, the space per person was less than one pyeong. As people's body heat accumulated, the air quickly became hot and stuffy.
The vinyl flooring in the communal cell was warped and bumpy, and patches of concrete wall showed through torn wallpaper here and there. A rusty locker also stood out. A correctional officer said, "Still, this room is used by saso—inmates who assist officers with cleaning, meal service, and delivering items—whose conduct is good, so it's relatively spacious and in better condition."
At lunchtime, food came in through a small serving hatch in the wall, packed in plastic containers called "tangban-gi." Tableware was also made of soft plastic to prevent self-harm or weaponization. Nail clippers are marked as issued, and razors are handed out one per person.
The menu that day was white rice, doenjang stew, stir-fried sundae, kkakdugi, and vegetable wraps. The rice and side dishes are cooked by inmates themselves, but because they cook in large batches, the rice often clumps and hardens into what they call "tteok-bap."
The reporter took a seat in front of the toilet inside the communal cell, colloquially called the "ppaenggi-tong." This is where lower-ranked inmates mainly eat and sleep. The food was edible. The problem was the toilet smell. It was hard to lift the spoon.
After the meal came dishwashing. With no sink, we squatted in front of the toilet bowl to wash trays and utensils. But before we could finish, water to the entire second floor of the housing unit was cut off. Because of old pipes, when first-floor usage is high, water cannot reach the second floor. The reporters' faces showed plain embarrassment as the water stopped mid-wash.
◇No exception for solitary cells… two to three people in a 1.3-pyeong room
Next came the experience of an investigation holding cell. It is a space, commonly called solitary, where inmates are confined for punishment or management. The area is 4.1㎡ (about 1.3 pyeong), including the toilet. The communal cell almost felt spacious by comparison.
The walls were packed with graffiti from inmates who could not bear the boredom and loneliness. Religious phrases, laments about their lot, and obscene scribbles were all mixed together.
Although designed for one person, when the population is high, two to three are put in together. When two reporters went in and lay down, the moment one stretched out, the other could not even extend their legs. A correctional officer said, "If three go in, they have to bend their bodies into L-shapes to sleep."
◇Average occupancy at correctional facilities nationwide is 122%… the burden falls on correctional officers
There is no small number of people who think, "They committed crimes, so they should endure an uncomfortable life." But some say today's prison problems have gone beyond mere inconvenience. Overcrowding and aging facilities are breaking down correction and rehabilitation functions, and the burden is falling squarely on correctional officers.
According to the 2025 Corrections Statistical Yearbook, the average occupancy rate at correctional facilities nationwide last year was 122%. Built in 1963, Anyang Prison has capacity for 1,700, but as of that day, 2,300 were incarcerated, pushing the occupancy rate to 135.2%.
By contrast, there are only 266 security staff who directly control inmates. On night shifts, just 33 officers manage 2,300 people. That's roughly 70 per staff member.
Recently, as the number of inmates age 65 and older and those requiring medical care has increased, demand for medical and protective services has surged as well. That day, one inmate showed signs of cardiac arrest and was transported to an outside hospital. Staff were reassigned for the transfer, increasing the burden on those who remained.
According to last year's "Mental health status analysis of correctional officers," about half of correctional officers said they are stressed by overcrowding and staff shortages. The rate of having planned suicide among correctional officers was about 2.7 times that of the general adult population, and the rate of attempting suicide was about 1.6 times higher.
An official at Anyang Prison said, "Inmates are people, too, so in overcrowded environments they become edgy and conflicts increase," adding, "Correctional officers are bearing that chaos and danger as is." The official added, "In midsummer, the body odor of the overcrowded population mingles with the smell of food waste and feces to the point that it's hard to stay clear-headed."
Jung Sung-ho, Minister of the Ministry of Justice, who visited Anyang Prison that day to check on the situation, said, "The facilities and conditions of confinement are so serious that it is difficult to perform the core role of corrections," adding, "We will do our utmost to improve correctional facilities and the treatment of correctional officials."