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In the face of overwhelming challenges, violence, and uncertainty, stories often serve as guides. Sometimes those stories come in the form of epic literature or sacred texts. And sometimes they arrive in the unlikely shape of a chilling TV series with masked guards, desperate contestants, and a simple playground game turned deadly.

Squid Game, the Korean drama that has captivated global audiences, is not easy to watch. It’s graphic, intense, and emotionally raw. But it’s also a work of art that holds up a mirror to our world — and to ourselves.

Without revealing any plot twists or spoilers, I want to share why Squid Game has resonated so deeply with me as a therapist, and how it might offer guidance for living more courageously and with more hope.

 

1. The violence outside us is mirrored inside us.

One of the haunting realities of history is how often atrocities are carried out not by monsters, but by ordinary people — people who are convinced they’re right, or who are too afraid to say no. From the Crusades to the Taiping Rebellion, from genocide to political oppression, the collective tragedies of our past were often shaped by individuals who made small choices to stay silent, conform, or dehumanize others.

Squid Game is an invitation to notice that tendency within ourselves: the temptation to harden, to disconnect, to see others as obstacles rather than fellow human beings. It does this through metaphor, but the message is real. When our systems are based on competition, scarcity, and survival, cruelty becomes thinkable.

But so does kindness.

 

2. Even in hell, there is room for grace.

One of the most powerful truths the show offers is that even in the most brutal circumstances, people still have the capacity to act with care. A character may reach out with tenderness, offer their last piece of food, or choose connection over betrayal — even when everything screams at them to do otherwise.

This matters. Because in our own world — which may not be quite so stylized but is no less rife with inequality, fear, and pain — the choice to stay human is radical.

In therapy, I see this daily: people learning to treat themselves with the kindness they never received, people choosing honesty over habit, repair over revenge. These are not small acts. They are the seeds of a different world.

 

3. We are not doomed to repeat history — but we must remember it.

Mass violence rarely comes out of nowhere. It builds slowly, through division, blame, ideology, and indifference. History gives us countless examples — including the often-overlooked Taiping Rebellion in 19th-century China, where a strange fusion of Christian zeal, social collapse, and charismatic leadership led to one of the deadliest conflicts in human history. More than 20 million people perished over the space of 14 years, rivalling the total deaths of World War I, all within the geographical borders of modern day China.

These events feel extreme, but they are not unrelated to our present moment. The rise in political extremism, the scapegoating of marginalized people, and the devaluation of truth and compassion — these are all ingredients that can drive us toward catastrophe.

But each generation also includes people who said no. Who stepped out of the system. Who treated the enemy as human. Who reached across lines of fear.

That is the other legacy. And it’s the one we can choose to participate in.

 

4. The world is hard. But we are not powerless.

Watching Squid Game can leave you feeling disturbed — and that’s the point. But it can also ignite a question: What am I doing with my time here? What choices am I making in the face of injustice, isolation, or despair?

The answer doesn’t have to be grand. Sometimes it looks like checking in on a neighbor. Sometimes it’s seeking therapy. Sometimes it’s choosing rest instead of hustle. Sometimes it’s simply refusing to see others as disposable.

Hope is not a feeling. It’s a practice.

 

In closing

The stories we watch, read, and tell each other matter. Squid Game isn’t just entertainment — it’s a fable for our times. And if we let it, it can help us remember our deepest values: our need for connection, our ability to resist cruelty, and our power to shape a different future.

In a world where the games can seem rigged and the stakes impossibly high, the choice to live with courage, compassion, and conscience is more than rebellion.

It’s a way forward.