South Korea has historically seen presidents in their 40s seize power through military coups, not democratic elections. Today, as the nation grapples with an aging population and deeply rooted notions of authority, the idea of a younger, democratically elected leader still appears to many as too radical a departure from the status quo. Rep. Lee Jun-seok of the minor conservative Reform Party, who turns 40 next month, recently sparked fresh debate on this subject by publicly alluding to his potential presidential aspirations. Though he cited the examples of John F. Kennedy and Barack Obama—both elected to the US presidency while in their 40s—Lee must contend with a host of cultural, demographic, and political obstacles that have long shaped Korea’s leadership profile.

The most immediate challenge for any younger candidate is South Korea’s “imperial” view of the presidency. According to political commentator Park Sang-byeong, Koreans tend to see their head of state not simply as a representative of the people, but as a near-monarchical figure. This perception makes it difficult for a leader perceived as too young to garner trust or respect—especially in a culture where seniority often translates to authority. As Park puts it, “Voters disapprove of a leader younger than themselves, believing he or she lacks the necessary experience.”

Another formidable hurdle is demographic reality. With one of the world’s lowest birth rates, South Korea has transitioned into a super-aged society, where over 20 percent of the population is aged 65 or older. Adding to this is the high voter turnout among senior citizens compared to younger generations. In the 2022 presidential election, turnout among those in their 60s reached 87.6 percent—the highest among all age groups—followed closely by those in their 70s at 86.2 percent. By contrast, the figures drop to around 70 percent for those in their 20s and 30s. Such disparities mean that older voters, who generally favor older candidates, wield disproportionate influence.

Historically, the two Korean presidents who assumed office in their 40s—Park Chung-hee and Chun Doo-hwan—did so through undemocratic means. Both orchestrated military coups, and the subsequent elections that confirmed their presidencies were marred by irregularities and lack of transparency. In a constitutional sense, then, South Korea has never had a truly democratically elected president under 50. The country’s constitution further cements this bias by setting the minimum presidential eligibility age at 40—stricter than the US requirement of 35, and significantly higher than many European nations, where leaders in their 30s and 40s are becoming increasingly common.

In this landscape, the median age at inauguration for a South Korean president is 62. Critics point out that by the time a typical political figure accumulates the experience, notoriety, and networks deemed “appropriate” for presidential ambition, he or she is well into their late 50s or early 60s—if not older. While it is true that age alone does not guarantee effective leadership, the rigidly hierarchical, seniority-focused climate in South Korea makes it difficult for a candidate in their 40s to be seen as a viable choice. Moreover, until 2022, the age of eligibility for many national and local offices was 25, underscoring the country’s cautious approach to youth participation in high-level politics.

Still, some see signs of possible change. Lee Jun-seok’s rise, and his open reference to celebrated young Western leaders like Kennedy and Obama, may serve as a litmus test for how open the electorate really is to a generational shift. Younger voters—though fewer in number—can harness the power of social media and grassroots movements more effectively than previous generations, potentially challenging the older demographic’s hold on election outcomes. If they succeed in boosting turnout even marginally, the ripple effect could be considerable.

So where is Waldo in this debate?

‍Waldo is the core question that often gets lost in the swirl of demographics, cultural norms, and constitutional technicalities: Should a candidate’s age overshadow their vision and competence? Amid all the discussions of whether South Korea is “ready” for a president in their 40s, Waldo represents the call to refocus on leadership that speaks to contemporary challenges—economic inequality, global competition, and an ever-shifting geopolitical landscape. Regardless of age, leaders must offer new ideas, embody accountability, and adapt to the rapid pace of change. If the electorate can look past numbers and job titles, Waldo suggests there might yet be room for a leader whose youth is not a liability, but rather an asset for navigating a rapidly evolving world.

‍