In Çorum, footage of three 13-year-old middle school students beating a friend and making him “apologize” by making him kneel in front of the school was reported in the press. These scenes horrified many of us. Because there was not just an act of violence; there was a ritual with a stage, a set-up and an audience.
Beatings, humiliation, making them kneel, making them apologize...
It was not a fight, it was a demonstration.
And that is why the question becomes inevitable:
Are these scenes really ours?
Peer bullying certainly existed in these lands. However, such a staging of violence, turning it into a “punishment ceremony” in front of a crowd, forcing the victim to kneel down and apologize, does not appear in our cultural memory in this form. On the other hand, these images are very familiar to those who have watched South Korean youth dramas in recent years.
In these series, bullying is not a secondary element; it is often central to the story. Violence repeats, deepens and gradually takes on an aesthetic language. The battered student is humiliated and left alone.
And what is striking is this: At the end of the story, the person who leaves school, changes cities, gives up his/her life is usually not the perpetrator but the victim.
In this process, school administrations remain silent and families withdraw. If the victimized child is poor or does not conform to the imposed norms of beauty, the violence becomes even worse. “natural” and “inevitable” becomes something else. The following message is whispered to the audience: The violence of the strong is possible; the silence and flight of the weak is the most acceptable solution.
At this point “cultural industry” concept comes into play. As Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer point out, the cultural industry does not only produce entertainment; it also standardizes emotions, behavior patterns and power relations.
Cinema and television do not just show violence; they make it familiar, repeatable and normal.
Academic studies emphasize that viewers, especially adolescents, perceive the bullying scenes they see on screen as a kind of social rehearsal. Relationships of power, obedience and punishment are learned through these scenes. Violence is thus not only represented but also reproduced in everyday life practice.
We also know who watches these series the most: Middle and high school children. This pattern repeats for years, accompanied by intense emotional bonds with the characters and idols.
Of course, South Korean cinema and TV series are not all about this. There are also very strong productions that question the system and criticize class inequality. But this is exactly how the cultural industry works: It packages criticism, violence and resistance. The market decides which one will circulate.
These productions do not only sell fictionalized stories; they also market a culture, a vision of the world. Together, the series, the music, the idols teach: How to establish power, who can speak, who can kneel.
Children do not just watch these scenes; they internalize and reproduce them.
That's why it's important to understand peer bullying not only as “children deteriorated” is not enough. The real question is this:
What do children watch, what do they accept as normal, what do they imitate?
Of course, it is not possible to explain this picture only through TV series or cinema. Family, school, economic inequalities and the language of social violence are all integral parts of this issue.
Therefore, the issue is now “why is there violence?” than the question,
“How is violence learned and legitimized?” the question.