S.Korean wages a visual campaign against dog eating.


One activist uses graphic images to make his case. South Koreans are 
increasingly taking the lead in their country in promoting animal 
rights, going so far as to question their cultural traditions.

South Korea animal rights activist Lee Won-bok uses his photo display 
of canines kept in cages, hanged and butchered to convey "the suffering 
these dogs endure." He represents a new breed of animal rights 
activist: a South Korean who aggressively questions the traditions of 
his culture. 

September 4, 2009


Reporting from Seoul - As Lee Won-bok arranged his posters one Saturday 
at a busy outdoor pedestrian mall, passersby peeked over his shoulder 
in dismay and horror.

Some covered their eyes. But hundreds also clamored to sign Lee's 
petition to outlaw a traditional culinary practice here: the eating of 
dog meat.

Each weekend, the 45-year-old animal rights activist stages a graphic 
photo display of dogs kept in cages, hanged and butchered, their meat 
prepared for market. He knows the images are hard to look at. But 
that's precisely his point, to show the harsh treatment of an animal 
that many South Koreans now view as companions, not cuisine.

For years, foreign advocates have railed against the practice of 
butchering dogs and cats. Although Koreans have eaten dogs for 
centuries, the habit became more prevalent during the privations that 
followed the Korean War. It eventually spread from the poor and elderly 
to be adopted by the more affluent as niche cuisine.

Most protests were dismissed as the unwanted opinions of outsiders. But 
as the country has acquired more trappings of Western culture, the 
number of pet owners has exploded, and South Koreans are taking the 
lead in promoting animal rights here.

In recent years, at least nine domestic groups against eating dog have 
been founded to stage street and online campaigns nationwide.

"People don't comprehend the suffering these dogs endure," Lee said. 
"They may vaguely realize that people still eat dogs. But they need to 
know what happens to the animals."

Lee, founder of the Korea Assn. of Animal Protection, gets in people's 
faces. He has barged into City Hall to confront an official who favored 
consuming dog meat and brazenly displayed his photos at a local dog 
market as a vendor tried to choke him.

He represents a new breed of animal rights activist: a South Korean who 
aggressively questions the traditions of his own culture.

"Pets are now objects of emotional interaction, just as in Western 
society," said Joo Eun-woo, a sociology professor at Chung-Ang 
University in Seoul. "Some people sleep with their dogs. For them, 
seeing these animals as food is taboo."

In 2005, one in four South Koreans was a dog or cat owner. In addition, 
the number of pet shops and animal-themed television shows have risen 
in the nation of 48 million people.

South Koreans wield more influence than foreign activists, said Lee, 
who has been a vegetarian for 20 years. "People can no longer say, 
'Outsiders can't tell us what to eat.' Now Koreans are telling 
Koreans."

On some weekend days, he is able to collect more than 1,000 signatures. 
He says he has amassed 300,000 over nine years.

"We are a new generation of Koreans, and it's up to us to stop this 
practice," said Won Ji-yeon, 17, who stood in line to sign Lee's list.

National laws prohibit eating dog meat, but the government rarely 
enforces them. Dog markets are rarely, if ever, inspected for health 
and sanitary conditions.

Six years ago, a local court rebuffed a lawsuit that Lee filed seeking 
to suspend sales of dog meat soup, called boshintang, ruling that 
eating soup made from dog was too prevalent a custom to prohibit. But 
Lee and others successfully lobbied the government to outlaw the 
butchering of pet dogs that stray from their masters.

Canine cuisine enthusiasts say they distinguish between dogs they eat 
and those kept as pets. They say they reserve a special breed of dog 
for consumption, never mixing the two.

Activists say the lines often blur. Many domesticated breeds, including 
collies and spaniels, are also consumed after being scooped up as 
runaways. Lee rescues stray dogs as a way to keep them out of the hands 
of dog meat vendors.

On the three days each year when many South Koreans traditionally eat 
boshintang, activists stage street protests, portraying dogs kept in 
cages and hanged for their meat -- anything, they say, to diminish the 
outmoded appetite for dog meat.

But the cuisine has its adherents.

Last month, on the year's final boshintang day, the regulars packed 
into Mr. Moon's Dog Meat Stew Restaurant, where the year-round menu 
includes not only boshintang, but also dog soup and dog served with 
vegetables and hot pepper sauce, along with non-dog dishes.

Hong Sung-woo said dog stew is healthy.

"It gives me stamina," said the former government worker, now 84. "How 
do you think I've lived this long?"

The cuisine also remains popular among some government officials, 
including Cham Lee, the German-born director of the Korean Tourism 
Organization, who also raises Korean Jindo dogs as pets. He elicited 
criticism when he held a private wine and dog-tasting seminar. His 
verdict: Dog goes best with a light Shiraz, or a nice Riesling.

Parisians can eat horse meat because France is considered high culture, 
he said. But South Korea gets no such pass.

"Westerners eat one type of animal and tell the world they can't eat 
another," he said. "I say, if you eat animals, you eat animals."

Lee, the activist, pledges to continue his campaign until the practice 
of eating dog ends.

He uses the signatures he collects to make the case to legislators that 
the public is on his side.

"Dog eating in Korea is not going to end in one day or one year," he 
said. "But it's only a matter of time."