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“When in Rome” was the expression flippantly tossed at me by a friend when I questioned her impulse to eat dog meat while we were both living in S. Korea. When researching Korean culture before moving here a year ago, I encountered for the first time a society where dog meat is considered a delicacy. Honestly, I’d never heard of such a thing before. Snails, sure. Fish eggs, OK, but dogs? Really? The more I looked into it, the impression I got was that it was a dying custom, only practiced in the rural parts of the country. Upon my arrival and subsequent immersion into this dynamic culture I have discovered that the brutal practice of butchering dogs for human consumption is alive and well.
Within the past century Korea has made incredible strides out of invasions, poverty, oppression, and civil war to emerge as a world leader in technology, a democratic capitalistic, modern country. However some traditions still remain from a time of widespread deprivation. When food, much less protein, was so meager that people literally ate whatever was around. In this day in age, in a developed country? can a delicacy that produces so much suffering and cruelty really still be necessary? Are slaking our appetites paramount to recognizing our fellow sentient beings and the pure injustice that we are imposing on them?
The dog meat industry is a topic that stirs much debate even within the Korean community. The accepted belief is that there is a sharp distinction between dogs that are pets and dogs that are raised for food. I believe this idea is so prevalent because it efficiently lets people of the hook. They are less repulsed if they think only the mangy mutts are the ones eaten and not the cute little fluffy ones.
Recently I began volunteering at an animal shelter not too far outside of Seoul. The shelter is set atop one of the numerous mountains of this region. There are many dogs at this shelter and a few are rotated to be tethered outside to get the chance to interact with people and get out of their cages. While being driven up the mountain to the shelter one afternoon, our car emerged over the crest of the driveway and I noticed a few smaller dogs tied up out front. The car came to a stop and as I climbed out, my eye caught a sight that literally made me gasp out loud. At first I couldn’t make out what I was looking at. One of the dogs had something very wrong with its face, though at first I couldn’t decipher what it was. As I walked closer to the small reddish fluffy dog, I realized that the dog was missing its snout. Where its nose should have been was what looked like a red gaping wound. I couldn’t help but just stare at it for a couple of seconds. My heart sank as my imagination raced with the possibilities as to what had happened to this little dog.
I later inquired of some other volunteers what had happened to it and was informed that often times dogs on dog meat farms are tethered with a steel wire around the snout for barking and escaping purposes. Tiffany, the dog’s name I found out, had more than likely ripped off her own nose trying to escape the horrors that no doubt awaited her on said dog meat farm. I share this story to dispel any theories that many Westerners harbor about any humane regulations that exist in the dog meat industry. According to the June 2009 edition of the Seoul Times, “The South Korean law governing livestock farming includes dogs just like cows, pigs, and chickens. But dogs are excluded from the laws on livestock processing, which regulates slaughtering them.” What this entails for the unfortunate dogs on dog meat farms is that they can be slaughtered as inhumanely as can be imagined. Hanging, beating, and electrocuting are some of the methods employed by the butchers to ‘tenderize the meat’. Is there any room in a progressive social trajectory to allow such merciless and sadistic abuse of "man’s best friend" or any other animal for that matter?
I shared Tiffany’s story with one of my Korean friends recently. Her first reaction was “Oh, no, it couldn’t be from a dog meat farm. We only eat the ugly yellow ones.” What needs to be understood is that this fallacy is perpetrated so people’s consciences are abated about the whole atrocious practice. I believe that the Koreans who don’t eat dog are somewhat embarrassed by the Koreans who still do. They understand that many Westerners view it was a very barbaric thing, but many still hide behind the protective cloak of tradition.
But what saddens me even further is that there is a healthy population of Westerners who come here and have a need to try dog meat to partake in their host country’s traditions. Some just want to try something new without educating themselves at all on what really goes on behind the scenes and the reality of how that dog in their bowl ended up there.
Doing some research online I found a statistic that gives an idea of the amount of dog eaten in Korea. In 1999 it was reported that 6,484 boshintang (dog meat soup) restaurants are located around the county and that dog meat is the 4th most popular meat in Korea. I find this a heartbreaking statistic. My hope is that people visiting this country will do some research before blindly accepting that this practice is in any way humane or acceptable. I believe we have a responsibility; a precarious responsibility to respect the culture and tradition of our host country but never under any circumstances tolerate cruelty wherever we find ourselves in the world.
As Albert Schweitzer, the German-French theologian, philosopher and physician wrote, “We must fight the spirit of unconscious cruelty with which we treat the animals. Animals suffer as much as we do. True humanity does not allow us to impose such suffering on the. It is our duty to make the whole world recognize it. Until we extend our circle of compassion to all living things, humanity will not find peace.”
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