Raging helplessness of Sewol

By Jason Lim

My social media page was covered with remembrances and self-condolences about the Sewol tragedy that happened seven years ago this week. I am sure that I am not an exception. Sewol occupies an outsized place in recent Korean history. It's only a slight exaggeration that the spectacular downfall of President Park Geun-hye's administration began with the sinking of the Sewol ferry and the recriminations following the government's botched and opaque response to the sinking. Who can forget the questions about the seven hours that Park was absent in the immediate aftermath?

What is it about Sewol that has such a hold on the Korean psyche? It's not that Korea hasn't had its share of tragedies. The Sampoong Department Store collapse and Seongsu Bridge collapse in the mid-nineties were arguably more shocking and killed more people. In fact, the first half of the whole twentieth century that started with the Japanese subjugation and ended with the devastating fratricidal war was one long-running tragedy.

But Sewol was different. Perhaps that's because it was the first tragedy that happened in today's 24-hour news cycle and ubiquitous social media world. Even from Washington D.C., I saw the Sewol disaster unfolding in real time on that day on April 16, 2014 as the half-capsized ferry listed ominously in the grey water under even greyer sky near Jeju. I still remember glancing over at the TV screen with only a slight interest when it was announced that everyone onboard was rescued, as I assumed that they would be, then turning gradually incredulous and alarmed before turning panicky as it dawned that no, there were kids being entombed inside the giant, hulking piece of metal as it inexorably sank into the cold water.

Multiply my reaction ― from far away ― by millions of times and amplify it by the proximity to the tragedy in Korea proper and you will have how Koreans experienced the Sewol sinking as a collective trauma and are still probably suffering from a national PTSD from the incident.

In a way, the Sewol tragedy is an experiment of what happens with traumatic events in our world of ubiquitous connectivity, inescapable witnessing, and unavoidable awareness. The proliferation of smart phones combined with omnipresence of portal sites and social media have facilitated widespread public access to media coverage of these events as they occur in real time. With media competition for ratings driving exposures to often unfiltered images of violence and hyperventilating descriptions of the ferocity of the events, we are no longer allowed to be disinterested witnesses to something happening to others; we are forced to become an integral part of the happening, a lens through which the fierceness and impact of the trauma are enlarged and intensified in the collective psyche.

We can't not see, hear, or feel the hurt of Sewol. It has gone viral and visceral. And therefore, became a personal loss for everyone in Korea.

The incredible drama that followed ― from the failed rescue attempts to the mysterious death of the cult leader-owner to the crass politicization of the tragedy ― added insult to the injury and ensured that it would be front and center in the public arena for years to come.

But now, what? How does healing happen? Perhaps these remembrances are attempts at healing. In fact, I am sure they are, as were the spontaneous memorials and forums that spring up all over Korea after the sinking. People who go through shared traumas need to come together to acknowledge the tragedy and talk about their thoughts and feelings. The forced isolation from COVID-19 made that more difficult, which is why this year's remembrances seem to be more poignant, more primal in their pain and need to share.

Unfortunately, Korea still seems to be far from finding closure, which can only come from a thorough and transparent investigation into the causes and accountability to those who were responsible, which was one of the key mandates of the Moon administration. With only a little over a year left in his term, the President did reaffirm his commitment to get at the truth and made a formal request for a relevant panel of the National Assembly to recommend candidates for the special prosecutor position to start the inquiry.

The images may fade in time, but the sense of raging helplessness is still fresh. Helplessness against the dark waters. Helplessness against accidents that take people's lives all too easily. Helplessness against pervasive corruption that values money over human lives. Helplessness against the callousness that mocks parents' grief by measuring it against the blood money compensation they received from insurance companies and the government. Helplessness against a culture that still treats people's lives as commodities to be used to serve the greater good as defined by the powers-that-be. Helplessness in the face of kids dying in real time. Ultimately, Sewol was and will continue to be significant because it was when Koreans realized how helpless they were against the system they were living in.

Jason Lim (jasonlim@msn.com) is a Washington, D.C.-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture.