I am here with my mother, son and husband – it’s the first time in Korea for the latter two. They are as impressed with this modern, efficient city as my mother and I. When we left in 1977 for Australia, the city was rebuilding itself after the end of the Korean War. My mother – who had lived through the war – marvels at each return of the way the country has strived to rebuild itself after such devastation. Her pride is palpable as we make our way around. She talks of the determination and the Korean resilience – cornerstones of the Korean spirit – that have been responsible for such a speedy recovery and allowed it to become a powerhouse economy on the world stage in a relatively short period.

Then we woke to the news on Wednesday morning. It seemed unbelievable  that a ferry accident had claimed the lives of so many, especially the young who had their whole lives ahead of them.

As details of the accident emerge on the news channels, the accounts have been riven with inconsistencies and accusations. Not surprisingly, the company which owned and operated the ferry has been besieged with demands for answers to explain the tragedy – and it has done so with unbelievable inadequacy. It has also thrown a spotlight on the thorny issue of occupational health and safety, which is not always a top priority in a country so driven with growth and success.

The captain of the ferry was resting in his quarters when the ferry swerved off course and began to take in water. The person in charge at the time of the accident was an inexperienced twenty-six-year-old. It appears the ferry went off course because it was trying to make up time: the ferry had departed the coastal city of Inchon, near Seoul, two hours late because of heavy fog.

It has been reported that the little regard the ship had for the lives of the passengers was apparent in the way staff handled the crucial minutes after the ship began to take in water. Passengers were told, simply, to stay put. The Confucianist beliefs, which require its followers to respect authority and which still govern this country, can be understood in the response of the passengers who heeded this instruction – even when it was evident the ship was tilting badly – to their peril.

Similarly, there have been reports that the lifeboats were chained up, without access, and the ship, an 18-year-old veteran from Japan, was long overdue for a service. There are also accusations of corruption, which allowed the vessel to be operated when it should have been decommissioned, and of illegal, unsafe modifications made by the ship’s owners so it could carry more passengers, in its search for higher profits.

It has now been reported that the deputy principal of the high school, which lost hundreds of its students in the tragedy, committed suicide, unable to deal with the burden of his own survival in the face of such loss among those in his charge.

If it had not been for the tragedy, we would have left Korea with our glowing impression of this glittering, high-tech country intact. But now, my mother is left wondering about the cost of the speed of its success, what actually lies behind the modern, progressive facade it projects to the world and to itself.

She is reminded that the very things she had been proud of, and, which has made this country what it is today, had been achieved through risks, cutting corners, doings things quickly – in other words, trying to make up for lost time.

Korea, too, is searching for answers to this tragedy, and it may seem that the initial answers lie on the surface about many failings of the staff and the poor state of the vessel, but, there are more crucial questions it needs to consider that go to the heart of the future of this country in its relentless search for growth, like the systems it needs to enforce in order to ensure the safety of its citizens.

Silvia Kwon was born in South Korea and is a Melbourne-based writer. She is the author of the novel, The Return.