[The Editors' Verdict] The Sorrow Runs So Deep, There Is No Strength Left Even for Anger

On the 1st, flowers and messages left by citizens in the memorial space in front of Exit 1 of Itaewon Station, Yongsan-gu, Seoul, are placed to commemorate the tragedy. Photo by Hyunmin Kim kimhyun81@

No one spoke. No one took photos. There were people in their 20s and people in their 50s. There were women and men. Foreigners were not uncommon. There were Black people and White people. Some bowed, some put their hands together in prayer. Most observed a moment of silence. The common denominator was white chrysanthemums. With white chrysanthemums held in their hands as a symbol of mourning, people were connected as one, regardless of who they were. The waiting line would become two lines when mourners gathered, then shrink back to one line, repeating this cycle. Suddenly, a scene of life and death crossing paths flashed through my mind. Though we may not be aware, life and death are friends. They are close.

On the afternoon of the 2nd at 6 PM, I visited the memorial site in front of Exit 1 of Itaewon Station. From the station entrance, post-it notes mourning the victims were densely attached. A police officer was controlling the scene. Holding chrysanthemums contained in a box, I stood in line and waited before offering the flowers. It was the minimum effort I could make, even belatedly, for those who were someone’s beloved daughters and sons. A young woman right in front of me bowed her head in silence, then kept her head down for a while before wiping away tears and leaving the site. At that moment, a great wave surged in my chest. It was hard to tell whether it was sadness, anger, or a grieving heart. Perhaps it was a sense of guilt felt by the older generation. Only the chanting of monks broke the silence amid the sea of chrysanthemums.

I gazed at the narrow alley where the tragedy occurred for a long time. The situation I had seen through the news unfolded before my eyes like a frozen picture. It was unbelievable how peaceful the scene was, considering the unimaginable event that had taken place. Just a few days ago, 156 people had perished right there in the heart of the city. Except for the police line, the alley remained unchanged as if nothing had happened. That made me sad. A deep sense of helplessness and emptiness washed over me.

I read the messages citizens wrote on post-it notes to mourn the victims. “How much pain must you have felt? I am so sorry, again and again. I pray you find great comfort in the heavens.” “As a generation that has experienced two tragedies, I feel helpless rather than angry. I hope the bereaved families, friends, and acquaintances do not suffer too much.” “I hope you live happily in your next life and become like flowers.” “Please go to a good place. Those of us still living are sorry.”

Many wrote “I’m sorry.” I felt that we, living in this era, have taken another stone into our hearts. We have engraved the record of the second tragedy following the Sewol Ferry disaster. Especially for the 2030 generation, most of whom were the same age as the victims, the Itaewon tragedy will have a lifelong impact. In this sense, ‘tragedy’ has become a keyword of the era, not just an accident?like the Korean War for the parent generation or the democratization movement for the 386 generation.

Therefore, how a civilized South Korea resolves this issue is deeply connected to the future of our society. Concrete follow-up measures such as thorough fact-finding, punishment of those responsible, and legislation to prevent recurrence must be implemented to move forward. Above all, the most fundamental things are sincerity and empathy. However, some officials, including Minister of the Interior and Safety Lee Sang-min, are instead fueling anger, so no one knows what might happen next. The sorrow is so deep that there is no strength left even to be angry. Will we be able to speak of hope tomorrow?

So Jongseop, Editor-in-Chief, Asia Economy

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.