Ask people what they associate with Finland, and they will say high rates of depresson, alcoholism and suicide, brought on by the long, gloomy winters. Although we Finns recognise some truth in this characterisation, we tend to laugh it off. But now, following Tuesday's massacre at a college in Kauhajoki, where 22-year-old trainee chef Matti Juhani Saari killed 10 students, the country is notorious for something more shocking: random gun violence.

Despite a similar tragedy in November last year, in which 18-year-old Pekka-Eric Auvinen killed eight people when he opened fire at his high school in Jokela, no one expected this second murder spree. The levels of domestic violence and gun ownership are high, and the lack of daylight during winter causes widespread misery, but Finns still hold on to the belief that their country is essentially safe. And western Finland, where Saari went on his rampage, is one of the safest corners of the country, where people leave their houses and cars unlocked.

Yesterday the Finnish prime minister, Matti Vanhanen, vowed to push for stricter gun laws, which are among the most relaxed in Europe. After the shootings in Jokela, the government began a reevaluation of the rules that allow 15-year-olds to acquire guns for target practice and hunting. Finland has the third highest amount of gun ownership in the world, after the US and Yemen - according to the 2007 national firearms register, there were more than 1.6m guns in circulation among a population of 5.3 million.

But is the easy availability of guns the only problem, or is there a more deeply rooted emotional cause for these sudden, terrifying explosions of violence? I grew up an hour from Kauhajoki. This rural west of Finland is known for its entrepreneurial spirit: a large number of people are self-employed. The work ethic tells you to be strong and to mind your own business. Even though people in this region are considered slightly more open-minded and communicative than in other parts of the country, you could hardly describe us as talkative. The idea of customer service is about giving the right information, not about being friendly. The home country of Nokia is full of people chatting away on their mobile phones when in trains or restaurants. But when you meet someone face-to-face in Finland there is little verbal communication, even if you know the other person well. Finns are proud of their economy with words.

In recent years, the education system has topped the international league in topics such as maths, science and reading. At school you learn to pay attention to your teacher, but hardly to use your verbal skills. Perfectionism is valued more highly than creativity and communication. It is hardly surprising, then, that Finland is still a monoculture where it is important to adapt. When I finished school and went to university in the UK, I discovered I had more in common with a Japanese student than other western European students. Although I was seen as an outgoing person in Finland, to me, my coursemates in the UK seemed overly chatty.

Although Finland and Sweden are neighbours and their politics have taken a similar path in recent years, shifting from leftwing to centre-right governments, there is a big difference in communication styles. A 2006 study by the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development found that Swedish children have more fun in school than Finnish pupils; while academic results were far better in Finland, Swedish children were better at expressing themselves.

Nina Torkkola, a psychiatrist specialising in teenagers, believes most adolescents in Finland are fairly happy, but that those with severe problems are feeling worse than in previous years. "One reason for the mental health problems of young Finns is that it is common for parents to leave their children on their own. Many parents perceive it a good thing for a child to be independent from a very young age. But this goes on as early as primary school level, when you still need your parents," she says.

Torkkola does not believe that easy gun access is the problem. "A bigger problem is the lack of psychiatrists at schools and colleges. Schools need to pay attention to those students who are quiet and lonely. At the moment this is seen as the norm so nobody looks after them," she says.

Alpo Meriläinen, a Lutheran priest and counsellor based in Jakobstad, north of Kauhajoki, has a different explanation for the lack of communication in Finland. "There was no professional help at hand after the wars [against Russia], so most Finnish men chose not to talk about their experiences in the wars. This became a male ideal that has made it difficult for men to talk about their feelings to this day," he says.

He cites the Finnish saying that the weak will perish while real men keep going. According to Meriläinen, the alpha-male culture has created a situation where men tend to turn to violence rather than to verbal communication. "During the war they used to say that you never leave a friend, while nowadays the Finnish mentality says that you never leave anything to a friend. This is individualism as I know it," he says.

Now the region has finally got the world talking, and the shootings have linked Finland to the rest of the world. The terrible events of this week have proved that no country is as secluded as Finland likes to think it is.

· Reijo Ruokanen on teenage gun ownership in Finland
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