Suicide is painless?

By David Tizzard

Often described, however rightly or wrongly, as a permanent solution to a temporary problem, the country of South Korea has a particular relationship with suicide.

It is something that has cast its shadow over all elements of society – from the young to the old, the rich to the poor, and the famous to the unknown.

It reached its peak here in 2009 when the suicide rate per 100,000 people was measured at 10.3 for those aged between 9 and 24. It remained the tragic number one cause of death for the country’s youth in 2017.

Despite its technological success, Korea’s overall suicide rate is currently second highest in the OECD behind Lithuania – though the gap to the countries below is noticeable.

According to the data, the suicide rate in South Korea stands three times higher than that found in the United Kingdom, Italy, Denmark, or Brazil.

Moreover, the elderly here are more likely to commit suicide than in any other country in the world. A shocking revelation for a people that frequently espouse such traditional values as hyo (filial piety) in their teachings and education.

Pleasingly, recent statistics have shown that the suicide rate is actually dropping somewhat; albeit from an alarming initially high rate.

In 2017, 12,463 Koreans took their own lives – mainly related to financial troubles and domestic and social violence.

But these are mere numbers and – shocking as they might be – they do little to address the personal nature of the beast.

Jang Ja-yeon’s tragic passing was once more brought to the forefront of internet discussion with the sordid revelations coming out of the Burning Sun date-rape scandal. Jeon Mi-seon also shocked the nation by choosing to take her own life in a hotel room in Jeonju late last month.

The musician Jonghyun pursued a similar fate in late 2017. But it’s not just the glitzy and glamourous lives of celebrities that are touched – it’s also a matter of national security.

Ex-President Roh Moo-hyun leapt from Owl Rock in the village of Bongha in 2009. Current President Moon Jae-in writes touchingly of his friend’s self-determined passing in his autobiography, describing how he was the first to arrive at the hospital.

Another former ex-President Kim Dae-jung said of Roh’s passing that he chose “to commit suicide before his countryman to show his innocence.” Perhaps that sentiment still reverberates today.

When a North Korean boat arrived at Samcheok port undetected last month, it caused little in the way of media ripples with people now more accustomed to extravagant handshakes and bellicose tweets. But for the young 21-year-old Korean soldier who failed to detect the vessel, it was enough to prompt to him to leap from a Han River bridge to his death.

A sign of his own innocence?

There are deep-lying cultural and historic reasons for the prevalence of suicide here. None of which fully explains the disturbing phenomenon but all of which contribute to a complex interweaving of sociological and psychological issues.

Baek Sae-hee’s recent bestselling book “I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteok-bokki” certainly spoke to the nation about the widespread nature of this depression and ennui. The ‘han’ writ large.

However, teaching a newly-arrived group of international students a course in Korean Cinema and Modernization this month, something immediately struck both me and the more astute observers: Why do so many of the actors – even the protagonists – commit suicide in Korean films?

Joint Security Area was Korea’s highest-grossing film upon its release in 2000 and it featured captivating performances from Lee Byung-han and Song Kang-ho as they explored the deep national connection between a people divided by ideology and uniforms.

Yet with the film’s message – peace is preserved by hiding the truth – still ringing in the audience’s ears, we bear witness to both Lee Byung-hun’s and Kim Tae-woo’s suicides. The good guys, if such a thing exists, end up taking their own lives. This ain’t Hollywood.

Death and suicide also feature in Oldboy when the film’s denouement sees Yoo Ji-tae take his own life in an elevator once his work is completed. And 2015’s Train to Busan has Gong Yoo jumping to his death to save his daughter and an accompanying pregnant female.

More recently, much of the country has been gripped by the latest political drama Chief of Staff (Bu-jwa-gwan). And never were there more gasps – but also silent nods of understanding – when this week’s latest episode ended with Jung Jin-young’s morally virtuous character leaping to his death to save his friend and scandal embroiled colleague played by Lee Jung-jae.

So while there might rightly be an element of deep-rooted culture that can draw light into this issue, one should not ignore the many portrayals in the media. When one sees celebrities (idols) continually resolving their issues through suicide, it surely suggests to people that it remains an appropriate, or at least, realistic measure to be taken.

But then what is the solution?

Art should certainly not be necessarily directed towards morality because then we end up with government blacklists and the repressive nature of President Park Chung-hee’s cultural control. Moreover, art is often there to challenge our worldviews.

Yet it remains interesting to see that while cigarettes and tattoos are blurred from vision here because they are seen as a corrupting influence, Lolita-themed pop performances and suicide remain a constant on the screens. And what are the society’s biggest problems if not gender conflicts and death?

Perhaps with the passage of time as the country undoes the shackles of traditionalism evidenced by positive moves towards abortion, homosexuality, and gapjil, the citizens’ thoughts will continue to modernize and suicide will no longer be seen as the face-saving catchall solution.

And if society is considered a Durkheimian creative matrix of collective values, a canopy of moral and conceptual categories and sentiments that exist prior to us, these very tenets can then be changed.

This is no longer the world of M.A.S.H. and the 21st century brings with it many changes. Undoubtedly the game of life remains hard to play but let’s hope that more continue to take it rather than leave it.

And suicide is not painless for anyone – least of all society.

The Korea Suicide Prevention Center can be reached on 02-2203-0053 or via email at spc@spckorea.or.kr

David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women’s University.