The “Will to Live” and Awareness of Death among Young People in Contemporary Korea (Part 1)

South Korea experienced rapid economic growth from the late 1960s, known as the "Miracle on the Han River," and hosted the Seoul Olympics in 1988. However, a few years later, in the late 1990s, it seems that South Korea began to change. Contrary to its remarkable economic development, various problems began to emerge in a spiritual sense. This is not just my impression, but a common feeling among foreigners who have lived in South Korea for a long time.

In this two-part essay, I would like to discuss how a sense of stagnation is prevalent in contemporary South Korean society, and how this is related to a cultural transformation that prevents people from being aware of "death," which is necessary for contemplating "life."

A Strong “Will to Live” in Earlier Korea

I'd like to introduce myself briefly and talk about the changes in the situation in Korea. After graduating from a Japanese university, I went to Korea to see a bit of the world, and I became a university professor there, spending 36 years there.

When I went to Korea in 1987, the country was about 20 years behind Japan economically, but there was a passionate energy in the people as they worked hard towards their dreams. Even amidst economic poverty, I felt a sense of fulfillment and happiness, a will to live and hope, and I was impressed by the strong will to live that Koreans possess. What surprised

me when I first came to Korea was that the greeting I learned at school wasn't "Annyeonghaseyo," but "Have you eaten?" When I answered "No," I was often invited to eat, and I was treated to meals. Koreans are quite proactive in treating others to meals. Looking back now, perhaps the person who invited me was hungry themselves and thought it strange to eat alone, so they invited me to eat together. But what struck me was when, after treating me to a meal, they boasted, "Koreans are very kind-hearted, aren't they?" The lady in the cafeteria also gave us lots of side dishes, saying, "Eat plenty!"

Photo source: photoAC

A Shift in Mentality

It was probably around the late 1990s, after remarkable economic development, that I noticed a decrease in the use of the greetings I mentioned earlier. Even the ladies at the restaurants started saying "Please enjoy your meal" instead of "Please eat a lot."

Compared to Japanese people, Koreans seem to be more subjective, and they tend to think that "other people feel and think the same way I do." In contrast, Japanese people tend to try to conform to the opinions of those around them if their own feelings and thoughts differ.

In other words, it's probably because Korea has become economically prosperous. People are no longer in situations where they are so hungry, so they assume that others are not, and they are less likely to treat others to meals. Or perhaps, as soon as they can afford to eat, they become less empathetic, fearing that they might not be able to eat one day. Of course, even now, people often say "Let's go eat" when it's mealtime, but now it seems to be more of a feeling of "it's mealtime" rather than "it's mealtime."

Also, around the same time, I feel that informal language has become more common. Previously, to put it in Japanese terms, children often used expressions like, "Dad, would you like to eat?" when speaking to their parents, but this has changed to expressions like, "Dad, do you want to eat?" Within the family, children have increasingly started speaking to their parents in a more casual or informal manner, perhaps because it creates a sense of closeness. This is likely due in part to the rapid increase in nuclear families brought about by economic, industrial, and urban development, which has reduced the opportunities to see parents using polite language when speaking to grandparents. Since children rarely see their parents showing filial piety to their grandparents, it becomes difficult to expect their children to show filial piety to their parents as well.

The Growing Problem of Suicide

What is most tragic is that South Korea's suicide rate surged from 1998, immediately following the Asian financial crisis (1997). In 2003, the number of suicides per 100,000 people in South Korea surpassed that of Japan, and except for being overtaken by Lithuania in 2017, it has recorded the highest suicide rate among OECD member countries since 2003.

In South Korea, suicide is the leading cause of death among young people. The suicide rate among teenagers (high school students) is on the rise, reaching 11.4 per 100,000 people aged 15-18 in 2023. It has become a serious social problem, accounting for 40% of emergency transport patients in their teens and twenties. Although the data is a bit old, according to a South Korean report from 2011, a survey by the National Police Agency from 2001 to 2007 showed that the average number of suicides among university students reached 230 per year (268 in 2003). Since there are about 300 universities in South Korea, roughly speaking, this means that one student commits suicide at every university every year. Fortunately, I hadn't heard of any suicides at the university where I worked in the last 30 years or so, but I was worried that a suicide might occur among the students I was teaching at any time.

[Table] Trends in Suicide Rates among Teenagers in South Korea (per 100,000 population)

A Society Where Stress Is Pushed to the Breaking Point

Commonly cited causes of student suicide include fierce competition for university entrance exams, difficulty finding employment, a sense of relative deprivation due to social media, psychiatric problems, stress from the COVID-19 pandemic, and family environment. South Korea is an extremely competitive society, and the stress that comes from it is very intense.

Historically, South Korea has valued the civil service examination system for appointing officials, and even today, there is a strong emphasis on academic credentials and entrance exams. Parents invest large sums of money in their children's education in order to get them into prestigious universities, and children must bear the weight of their parents' expectations and face a fierce competition in entrance exams. Young people in South Korea feel a strong pressure to "succeed," and parents tell them, "We've spent so much money on you, so you have to live up to our expectations." When the stress reaches its limit, it leads to suicide, with the feeling that "I can't do it anymore."

In a society that values ​​academic credentials, situations like those in Japan, where young people can dedicate themselves to club activities and enjoy their youth, rarely occur. Everywhere you look, perfectionism is pursued, you have to be number one, and if you can't, you're a failure. In 2011, at a top-tier university in South Korea, four students and a professor committed suicide in quick succession within just three months of the start of the year. The cause was stress stemming from excessive competition in academics and research.

Since it was a top-tier university, they could have been at the top if they had gone to another university, but perhaps they couldn't consider that option. Wouldn't it be enough to find a field where you can be useful in society and become unique, even if you're not number one like in Japan? With that in mind, I approached the university in South Korea where I teach and was allowed to create a liberal arts course called "The Culture of Death."

Part 2 is here

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