Invisible scars and the death of a child

Jian Seo and David Tizzard

By Jian Seo and David Tizzard

Over the past six months, the country's population has decreased by 10,056. Deaths have outstripped births and people have renounced their Korean citizenship. The country remains the only OECD member with a fertility rate of less than 1.0 and in March this year announced that the number of children born was more than 10 percent lower than the same time last year.

The reasons are manifest: economic, sociological, cultural, and psychological. It is even worth considering whether it is actually a problem or not because it comes with a rise in women's education, employment and independence.

Yet the relationship between a Korean parent and his or her child requires some investigation.

A child is not simply an object that a parent possesses. Rather, a child is a human with his or her own thoughts and personality. However, some parents assume that their child belongs to them and that they have full authority over them, including in terms of controlling their behavior. Such a belief results in some parents punishing their children, forcing them to act in a certain manner, and doing so under the banner of “discipline” or even “love.”

But, what is love? Is hitting a child ever acceptable? Can hitting someone while saying, “This is because I love you. I want you to become better” ever be justified as an act of love?

What the perpetrators of child abuse or domestic violence often overlook (or do not realize) is that there is a huge difference between discipline and punishment. Discipline provides children with a sense of stability driven by parents' consistency and love. It is predictable and is not affected by parents' moods or feelings. It guides children toward better behavior, consistent habits, and a strong personality. Punishment, on the other hand, is violence or a crime carried out under the guise of love. It objectifies children. It acts with caprice. And love is replaced by anger and frustration.

Anger is natural, of course. However, it is also habitual and children often learn it from their parents. An angry house will produce angry children. Children who receive emotional scars from their parents or those around them are then likely to pass these on to others as they grow. A vicious cycle of hate is created.

But despite the anger, children are far less likely to create collective groups (such as labor unions) or speak up and demand better treatment even in the face of domestic violence and other adversities. Sadly, home is a child's only real shelter. And despite the fear and violence they face, children will often choose to stay at home. Moreover, the law will also enforce this.

Recently, a nine-year-old boy was discovered having a cardiac arrest after being trapped in a suitcase for more than seven hours by his stepmother. Despite being sent to the emergency room on June 1, the boy sadly died on June 3. It is a tragic story, but one that was seemingly avoidable had society, institutions, and the law been more aware of what was transpiring.

A series of steps led to this tragedy. On Children's Day (May 5) the boy was taken to a hospital emergency room having apparently fallen in the bathroom. However, the doctor noticed bruises on the boy's body.

The doctor then reported this to the police because he was worried about what seemed to be a clear sign of child abuse. On May 8, the police department requested that a child protection agency visit the family. Officials did so five days later on May 13.

On May 18, the child protection agency provided a report to the police, who concluded that the child should not be separated from his family, but that the family might benefit from help or counseling. The parents were summoned to the police station on May 21 and 24 and investigated for child abuse. It was deemed that this had taken place over a long period.

And then, despite all this, the boy died. Bureaucracy and the organizations created to protect him had failed.

We have to ask why things weren't acted upon more quickly. Why was society and the institutions funded by our taxes so slow to act considering the gravity of the situation? Yes, things always become clearer in hindsight but for a country that prides itself on a “ppalli-ppalli” culture and some of the world's fastest internet speeds, surely it could have done much better.

This tragic and senseless act was not even the first time such a heinous act had been carried out recently. Just six months ago, a five-year old girl in Seoul also died after being trapped in a suitcase for more than two hours by her mother. Why are such cases occurring? Are Koreans copying each other? Or are they recreating the punishment inflicted on Crown Prince Sado in the 18th Century?

According to Article 12 of the Child Abuse Punishment Act, perpetrators of child abuse and the child should be separated immediately or the child should be sent to a protection agency. This is to take place for a minimum of one year and to up to four years. But just like we see with the many sex crimes afflicting the country, punishments and laws are either too lenient or do not protect the victims enough.

Ministry of Welfare statistics show that 81 percent of 22,367 child abuse cases ended with the child being sent back to the family. Between 1998 and 2016, the Korean Institute for Health and Social Affairs reported that only a quarter of convicted child abusers were sent to prison. Most received suspended sentences or fines.

This is reflected legally by the fact that Article 915 of the Civil Law enacted in 1960 permits parents to take “disciplinary actions” against their children to “punish or educate” them.

In the past five years, 132 children have died because of parental abuse in South Korea. In 2018, 30 children died from abuse; 25 killed by their parents. The reasons cited often include financial stress, business or economic failure, a lack of parenting knowledge, or simply a lack of desire to have or raise a child. It is worth remembering that these are only the reported cases and much of it goes unnoticed.

Irrespective of the parents' intentions, it is the children that bear these scars ― physically and emotionally. Parents cannot continue to claim jurisdiction over the children and act with impunity. A parent's role is not something that exists unconditionally. It implies responsibilities. This must be reflected more seriously in the law and in societal norms.

Korea stresses the beauty of “us” and “ours.” Unlike other cultures or countries that place a greater emphasis on that which is “yours” or “ mine,” Koreans often use the word “our” to express the sentiment that we share the same circumstances. It is not uncommon, for example, to hear Koreans say, “our mother”, “our father”, or “our child” when talking to others and thus evoke features of a community.

However, this emphasis on the collective (at least linguistically) is sometimes suddenly replaced when discussing other families. A great sense of distance arises. The lives of others are those in which we should not interfere or even observe and that sense of “our” disappears. This is expressed in the attitude of “nam-ui ka-jong” (other family) and declares that one cannot and should not interfere in the lives and actions of other families. This leads to a fear of reporting acts of violence or child abuse.

The role, size, and function of the Korean family have changed in the 20th and 21st centuries. Our actions need to reflect those changes in a better way.

Realistically, it is impossible for the government to maintain full awareness of every family and the childcare in each house. But modern parental education and the expansion of a reporting system for abuse is not only possible, it is vital. Neighbors remain scared to report others, even in cases such as child abuse. But we need greater societal awareness. We must stop domestic violence and these silent victims from continually suffering.

Voices must be raised. We cannot allow children to be treated in such a way. The recent case of a child dying in a suitcase was not the first time, and if we do not do something about it, it will not be the last time. Yes, society is gripped by several issues at the moment, but cases of child abuse, the laws and the punishments need a greater share of the spotlight.

It remains frustrating that such brutal and senseless acts are not the subject of more public outrage.

Jian Seo (jiannieforever@gmail.com) studies International studies and Clothing and Textiles at Hanyang University. She is a society section reporter at The Hanyang Journal, a member of Hanyang University Major Manager, and a member of the Hanyang Debate Society.

David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University, where he teaches Korean Studies, and he is an adjunct professor at Hanyang University lecturing in World History and Political Science. He discusses the week's hottest issues on TBS eFM (101.3FM) on "Life Abroad" live every Thursday from 9:35-10 a.m.