On the day that severe Tropical Storm Wipha wreaked havoc in Hong Kong, a family was shattered by a parent’s worst nightmare — the death of a child by suicide. As hurricane-force winds whipped the city, the tragedy of the untimely loss of a young life was equally lashing. 

I had met the teenager a couple of years ago, a chance encounter. A former schoolmate of my son’s, he was a strapping, apparently cheerful youngster whose polite demeanor and smiling face hid so well his struggles with addiction, familial destitution and troubles at school. Who could have told from the facade that this teenager was teetering on the precipice, so fragile that going over was a matter of time? Who knows which and how many children in this city are on the brink right now, dragged down every minute by their darkest fears; by a toxic culture of exceptionalism; by standards they often find impossible and incompatible with their circumstances; by hopelessness so absolute that death seems to be an easier choice in comparison?

In April, the Legislative Council heard that the number of student deaths by suicide in Hong Kong almost tripled in 10 years to hit nearly a decade high of 32 in 2023. Also, that from the start of the last school year until March 2025, approximately 20 students under 19 had committed suicide.

Perhaps it is not out of place to point out that the suicide happened days after public examination results were out, with the usual idolatry of the top performers and their much-lionized academic success. Year after year, students who didn’t do as well have to swallow the bile of ignominy, their comparative disadvantage a matter of public scrutiny, undermining their self-esteem in the face of unabashed adulation of quantifiable success.

From a very young age, children are often led to believe that everyone is equal, only to discover — sometimes harshly — that adults maintain and favor a clear pecking order. While children deserve unconditional love and support, the reality is that parents, family, friends, neighbors, teachers, and society frequently promote a culture of competition and one-upmanship.

Two days after the male teenager’s suicide, the body of an 18-year-old was found at Lion Rock — a week after she had gone missing. She was reportedly supposed to take the Hong Kong Diploma of Secondary Education examination this year, but chose to take a break from school.

Secretary for Education Christine Choi Yuk-lin told lawmakers in April, citing studies, that “suicide (including suicidal attempts) is a complicated issue caused by the interplay of multiple factors which are interconnected.”

“These factors are mainly related to interpersonal relationships (including family, social and relationship problems) and personal issues (such as learning and school adjustment, depressed mood and mental illness). Therefore, suicide should not be attributed to any one single factor (such as special educational need or mental illness).”

True.

Yet, why are student suicide and student mental health invariably and perhaps conveniently conflated, especially in formal discourse? The biggest danger of this could be discouraging the acknowledgment of individual-specific factors at play while reducing the vulnerability of young people en bloc to a clinical metric that may satisfy the conscience of adults but changes nothing for the most fragile youngsters. A youngster suffering from sexual abuse has a set of problems different from one who is abusing a substance or another under intense, unfair pressure at home to do well academically.

It is easy to miss the “people” with individuality, aspirations, and most importantly, feelings, in “young people”, or to acknowledge the diversity of individual circumstances in the cohort. If a one-size-fits-all policy is not recommended, perhaps it is also time to change the one-mindset-fits-all outlook. To do that, it will be good to make it mandatory for schools to report cases of attempted suicide and suicide among students and organize tailored, professional help in a manner that gives hope to children without making them feel like pawns in a do-good project. Yes, hope — that incorporeal commodity that is known to both save lives and change lives.

In a city with a total fertility rate of only 0.841 in 2024, as per official data, far below the 2.1 level required for population replacement, young people should ideally feel cherished. Yet, they are caught between the extremes of crass adulation of the super-successful as evident in the yearly spectacle following the release of school-leaving public examination results or made to feel inadequate for those who can’t keep up with peers. Is it any surprise that survey after survey indicate young Hong Kong people’s remarkably low preference — among the world’s lowest, in fact — for either marrying or starting a family?

On July 16, two lawmakers raised questions in LegCo in relation to Hong Kong’s abysmal fertility rate, and one sought longer sentences for child abuse. Elected representatives are concerned. But for things to change, it is imperative to change the conditional mindset and dismantle structural barriers. And soonest, before another young person starts losing hope.

The author is an award-winning English-language fiction writer and current-affairs commentator.

The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.