South Korea, at least in modern times, has never had a religious identity centered around a single faith. People have followed various major established religions, including Christianity, Buddhism, Confucianism and shamanistic traditions, often mixing and matching beliefs to suit their needs. Despite this diversity and fluid approach, nearly half of the country’s population called themselves believers.

In recent years, however, formal religious affiliation is clearly declining. In 2021, Gallup Korea found that 60 percent of South Koreans identified as religiously unaffiliated, up from 50 percent in 2014 and 47 percent in 2004. Data from the Korean National Association of Christian Pastors and government census records show the same trend -- fewer people, especially younger generations, are tying themselves to organized religion.

Churches that once overflowed with congregants now see attendance dwindling, and the number of monastic recruits in Korean Buddhism’s Jogye Order has declined significantly since the late 1990s.

But the visible decline in organized religion might not mean spirituality itself is fading in South Korea. It might simply be taking new forms.

"Some call it ‘de-religionization,’ but I see it as ‘re-religionization.’ Koreans aren’t abandoning spiritual practice; they’re just distancing themselves from dogma, hierarchy and traditional institutions,” said Brian Somers, a Buddhist studies professor at Dongguk University, one of Korea’s best-known Buddhist-affiliated institutions.

“What they want is something personal, experiential ― something that helps them in their daily lives," he added.

This shift is especially clear in the growing number of Koreans who identify as “spiritual but not religious,” or SBNR, a global trend of individuals pursuing spiritual practices without aligning with traditional religious institutions.

In South Korea, this trend is reflected in the growing popularity of templestay programs, meditation retreats and even shamanistic practices -- each of which offer meaning and solace outside of formal religious membership.

Professor Chung Jae-young of the Graduate School of Practical Theology in Icheon, Gyeonggi Province has closely examined the rise of SBNRs in Korea. His 2024 study of 1,000 individuals who identified as religiously unaffiliated found that while more Koreans reject institutional religion, many still engage in spiritual activities.

“Our data shows that 24 percent of religiously unaffiliated Koreans still consider themselves spiritual,” he explained. “Some continue to practice meditation or prayer privately, while others explore alternative spiritual paths, including shamanism and fortunetelling. The key difference is that these practices are now seen as individual choices rather than obligations tied to a religious identity.”

One of the clearest indicators of this trend is the surge in participation in South Korea’s templestay programs. Originally designed to introduce visitors to the Buddhist monastic life, these programs have evolved into secular retreats that attract people from all walks of life.

In 2024 alone, nearly 620,000 people took part in templestays, marking a record high. “People come here for many reasons ― stress relief, self-reflection, a break from daily life,” said the Ven. Mandang, director of the Cultural Corps of Korean Buddhism, which oversees the program, during a press conference on Feb. 12. “It’s not about converting to Buddhism; it’s about finding inner peace.”

Lee Ji-hoon, a 29-year-old graphic designer in Seoul, is among those who have embraced this form of spirituality. Raised in a Christian household, he stopped attending church in his early 20s but never lost interest in exploring life’s deeper questions. “I don’t believe in God the way my parents do, but I still feel a need for something beyond the material world,” he said.

“A friend recommended a templestay, and I was surprised by how much I connected with the experience. Meditation helped me clear my mind, and I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years. I wouldn’t call myself a Buddhist, but I definitely see the value in these practices.”

Buddhism is South Korea’s second-largest faith. A 2024 Hankook Research survey of 22,000 respondents found that while 51 percent of South Koreans have no religious affiliation, 20 percent identify as Protestant Christian, 17 percent as Buddhist, and 11 percent as Catholic.

Unlike Christian churches, which have struggled to retain younger members, Buddhism in Korea has found ways to engage the SBNR demographic. Much of this success stems from its emphasis on direct experience rather than doctrine.

“Buddhism, particularly the Seon (Zen) tradition, has always placed personal realization above rigid belief systems,” explained professor Somers. “This aligns well with the modern spiritual seeker, who values self-discovery over institutional authority.”

To accommodate this growing interest, Korean Buddhist institutions have increasingly framed their teachings within the language of wellness and psychology. Mindfulness and meditation programs, once confined to temples, are now offered at universities, corporate offices and even via mobile apps.

Dongguk University has integrated meditative counseling into its psychology programs, and the popularity of K-meditation -- a secularized form of Korean Buddhist meditation -- continues to grow.

However, not everyone sees this shift as entirely positive. Some worry that Buddhist principles are being diluted to fit the demands of the wellness industry.

“There’s a fine line between making Buddhism accessible and turning it into just another self-help trend,” said Somers.

“The question is whether these new approaches maintain the depth and ethical foundation of Buddhist teachings or if they simply serve as individual stress-relief techniques divorced from their original context.”

While Buddhism is adapting, Christianity — especially Protestantism — is struggling. Another 2024 Hankook Research survey on religious attitudes showed Buddhism as the only major faith viewed positively on average, scoring 51.3 points, compared to 48.6 for Catholicism and just 35.6 for Protestant Christianity.

Public trust in Protestant Christianity has eroded largely due to concerns over aggressive evangelism (31.8 percent), corruption (25.9 percent) and discrimination or hate speech (13.3 percent), according to a 2024 study by Korea’s Christian Institute for the Study of Justice and Development. Even among Protestants, 32.5 percent cited corruption as a key issue, with others pointing to a lack of social responsibility.

High-profile figures like Protestant pastor Jeon Kwang-hoon have further damaged Christianity’s reputation. The far-right leader of Sarang Jeil Church has been at the center of political controversy, openly supporting President Yoon Suk Yeol's December 2024 declaration of martial law. His inflammatory rhetoric has fueled division even within Protestant communities.

As institutional religious affiliation continues to decline, will spirituality in Korea become entirely individualistic?

Professor Chung doesn't think so.

“Korea has always had a syncretic approach to religion -- people mix and match beliefs to fit their needs. If we define religion strictly as organized institutions, then yes, it is losing ground. But if we define it as humanity’s search for meaning, then no -- it is simply evolving,” the professor said.

One possible future is the emergence of new spiritual communities that operate outside the framework of traditional religion. “Small meditation groups, online spiritual networks and even hybrid practices blending Buddhism, shamanism and psychology could become more common,” Chung added.

For some, like graphic designer Lee, this fluid approach is freeing. “I don’t feel pressured to belong to a specific religion, but I still have a spiritual life,” he says. “I meditate, I reflect, and I try to live with mindfulness. Maybe that’s enough.”

For others, like Kim Min-ji, a 35-year-old marketer who identified herself as agnostic but who regularly attends meditation retreats, the question of spirituality remains open-ended.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever commit to a religion,” she said. “But I do know that when I sit in silence, focusing on my breath, I feel connected to something bigger than myself. Maybe that’s all I need.”