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By David A. Tizzard
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Discussions about mental health in Korea have long been considered taboo. To admit to suffering from any form of psychological struggle was simply not part of the culture. Some regarded it as a problem to be overcome through effort and perseverance.
Others wanted those suffering to ignore their personal troubles and instead ensure that group harmony was maintained. For a different section of society, to express personal mental suffering would point to something wrong with the family at large, in particular the parents. More broadly, any attempt to seek counselling, therapy, or prescriptions was believed to result in a mark on one's public personal record and thus make it harder to get a job or insurance in the future.
These attitudes, whether right or wrong, were all true at the time. They formed the prevailing narrative in South Korean society towards mental health. Various statistics, surveys, and innumerable media headlines also point to this reality. You will notice, however, that the above is written largely in the past tense.
While the above attitudes do still hold true for a lot of society, for many young people ideas of mental health are being deconstructed and reimagined. They are abandoning traditional beliefs and seeking engagement, confession, and communication. They are season 4 of the continuing Korean narrative. They are the "stranger things."
This has become apparent recently in observing how many young Korean adults at universities have begun to talk either openly or privately about their issues. With in-person lectures and the subsequent human interaction, over the past few months I have witnessed students speak about their eating disorders, ADHD, anxiety, stress-levels, drug use and struggles with sexuality.
Moreover, these conversations come unprompted. It is certainly not my desire to encourage "confession" sessions because I'm neither qualified to know how best to react nor even sure such things are advisable. But while this remains simple anecdotal evidence, it points to a broader shift in the culture.
The Youth Cyber Counselling Center and their 1388 support service has seen a continuous rise in people aged between 9 and 24 reaching out for help. From just over 600,000 counselling sessions in 2011 to close to 900,000 in 2019. This has been assisted by the development of electronic counselling sessions which now take up over a quarter of all the instances recorded. Such technological developments mean that people no longer have to cross a physical barrier and enter a building or office when they need help. Instead, they do so privately and anonymously from their own home.
Universities also now run psychological consultations and free mental health counselling for their students. These sessions are in high demand and are normally fully booked. At 1 p.m. every Friday, students compete to log-in and secure professional assistance, often describing the process as being akin to trying to obtain K-pop concert tickets. On May 20, Hanyang University offered 170 different individual 50-minute counselling sessions, operating in 17 different rooms and running from 10am to 9pm. They were all taken.
As well as the Youth Cyber Counselling Center and universities, there is a noticeable growth in the use of private practices. The famous psychiatrist Oh Eun Young has cemented a place in the public consciousness through her many media appearances and approach to mental health, particularly in relationships between children and their parents. Dramas, celebrities, books, and musicians have also pushed the conversation forward in various ways.
Beyond therapy and counselling, the use of pills and medication also seems to be becoming more prevalent. Not just in use, but in how these things are discussed publically. At a talk for the Royal Asiatic Society Korea this week, two young Korean women openly shared their experiences with mental health, counselling and suicide.
For more than an hour, they described to the audience what they saw in the changing world around them. No longer were these young adults being told to simply deal with their own issues and struggle through. There are numerous medicinal cures being thrown at them, from Adderall, Ritalin, and a whole host of uppers, downers, and round and rounders.
Some of these are being used by parents in Daechi-dong and other parts of the country to simply get their kids through the mind-numbing boredom and struggle of hagwon and suneung life. But whatever the reason, the reality is one of a more pill-friendly approach than the country has ever seen in its history.
While the talk at the Royal Asiatic Society provided important insight into the very real nature of the stresses, pressures, and fears felt by young Korean adults, it also demonstrated that these were people willing to have such conversations in public. They were happy to share the reality they experienced with their peers and convey it to those who, either because of age or social status, would have little idea of how conversations around mental health are changing here.
Of course, there are still many problems and obstacles to overcome. Suicide, alienation and stress among the nation's youth are prominent in some of the most distressing statistics. But if you take the time to speak to a few young Korean adults about the subject of mental health, you will encounter a generation of people who perhaps for the first time, are more open than ever.
Whether all these changes are positive or negative, or whether they point to a broader cultural malaise, is a topic for another time. But for now, the reality is changing here in Korea. Young adults are now facing the Upside Down publically. And it all seems to be moving at some speed, beyond the headlines.
Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.
