Fw: March 5 Update iakakaps

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Wednesday, 06 March, 2002 06:22

March 5 Update

 

Contents

 

1. AP News Article

 

2. Daily Mail Article

 

March 5, 2002

 

1. AP News Article

 

Although the following article seems like a breakthrough, we will watch

these developments closely, continue with our worldwide campaign and keep

putting pressure on all parties involved. I can't help but think that this

is a temporary media stunt put on for the benefit of this high-profile time

before the world cup.

 

________________________________

 

" Crack down on dog slaughtering in Moran market in Sungnam City "

 

 

Internet Associate News

 

February 26, 2002

 

 

 

(Sungnam AP News) Reporter Kim Kyoung Tae

 

(Dog-related excerpts taken and translated from news brief)

 

The Moran market in Sungnam City, an open market infamous for the trading

and selling of animals for health food, is most notorious for its dog meat

trade. Stores who process remedies using dogs and other live animals are

all preparing for this crackdown before the World Cup.

 

Sungnam City has been appointed as camp headquarters for the Costa Rica

football team as they prepare for the games. World Cup matches are also

being held in the Number One and Number Two stadiums in Sungnam City.

Because of this, the Korean government stated on February 26 that they are

cleaning up the environment not only inside the city, but in the outskirts.

Twenty-two shops that sell and slaughter dogs, as well as some health food

stores, are being targeted for the their illegal practices. The crackdown

is especially focused on the dog trade, but chicken, rabbit and other food

related trading and slaughtering in the open market is under fire in this

city-wide clean-up.

 

The city is first asking the shops for a voluntary discontinuation of all

illegal sale and practices. Then from March to June, two hundred government

officials will meet and investigate the remaining businesses. If any

illegal businesses still have not voluntarily complied by July, they will be

prosecuted. On February 19, one hundred government officials already began

their campaign on the Moran folk market by giving sellers notice of the

clean-up deadlines. (The Moran folk market takes place six days a month in

the empty lot in front of the permanent live dog and animal shops.)

 

ktkim

 

 

2. Daily Mail Article

 

We have received a tremendous response from this article. Thank you to

Daily Mail and all of our new UK members!

 

__________

 

 

 

Investigation by Daily Mail

 

9 Feb 2002

 

THE CAGES are so cramped that the dogs have given up trying to

stand on all fours. They lie twisted awkwardly on their sides, their noses

etched with dark lines from pressing all day against rusty metal bars, a

look of utter defeat in their eyes. As I walk grimly along the row, however,

one of the wretched creatures-a pretty but painfully emaciated, sandy-brown

female-somehow musters the spirit to lick timidly at my outstretched hand,

so I summon the owner and ask for her name.

 

Emerging from inside her gaesoju ('dog tonic' shop)-where she

is busy boiling several other dogs in giant pressure-cookers-the woman gazes

at me with a mixture of bewilderment and contempt, quite unable to

comprehend why anyone should require such useless information. 'Her name?'

she sneers to my interpreter; 'These dogs don't have any

names.' But then, realising that this sentimental Englishman might present a

different kind of business opportunity, her attitude suddenly softens.

'Well, all right then,' she grins mirthlessly, 'You can call her Mary. But

to me, they're all the same-you can call them all Mary.' Appalled by her

cynicism and nauseated by the scenes and overpowering stench, I hurry away

from the bustling market in the South Korean city of Daegu-past row upon row

of similarly ill-kept dogs destined to be boiled, stewed or braised-and take

 

 

sanctuary in a nearby coffee bar. Even if this were some Third World country

where food was scarce and the people ill-educated, one would struggle to

understand how man's oldest companion animal could be so appallingly

debased.

 

Yet this is South Korea, prosperous home of such new

technological giants as Samsung, LG and Hyundai; an ultra-modern nation

whose population of 48 million remain affluent, even after the collapse of

the Tiger Economy. This summer, when South Korea joins Japan in hosting

football's World Cup, its leaders will be anxious to show visitors how well

they have responded to the 1997 economic crash.

 

Judging by the gushing welcome I received here, they are also

desperately keen to demonstrate how standards in their relatively new

democracy match those in the West.

But to the embarrassment of President Kim Dae-Jung, the 'dog issue'

threatens to sabotage all their plans to use the World Cup to bolster trade

and boost their international image.

 

The president had hoped to draw a discreet veil over his

country's most revolting culinary habits (they also drink the extract of

boiled cats), if only during the month-long tournament.

 

DURING the 1988 Seoul Olympics that is precisely what

happened-the skivvies-looking dog-traders were ordered to close their market

stalls temporarily; dog-farmers were warned to keep their 'livestock' inside

their sheds; and the nation's 6,000-plus dog-restaurateurs were instructed

to admit no foreigners.

Those in the Capital were shut down, only to re-open again the

moment the Olympic flame died. This time, however, matters are not nearly so

simple. The old quasi dictatorship has become a full democracy, and the days

when the Government could control people's diet have passed. Koreans have

adopted a retrenched, nationalistic attitude to dog-mating, refusing to

buckle under outside influence. On the contrary, the country is in the grip

of a campaign, not merely to continue but to increase the consumption of

dogs. In response to a demand from FIFA, the ruling body of world football,

to ban the vile practice, an all-party group of Korean MPs has been formed

to promote and legitimize it by introducing new dogmeat regulations.

Their defiant mood is typified by one high-ranking government

information official, who entertained Seoul-based foreign correspondents at

the capital's most exclusive dog restaurant. The pro-dogmeat lobby has found

its champion in a patriotic 'nutrition expert', Professor Yong-Geun

Ahn-'DoctorDogmeat.' Barely a week now passes without him appearing on

television or radio to extol the 'proven' medical benefits of dog flesh, and

urge Koreans to fight back against 'cultural imperialism'.

'Eating dogmeat is Korea's own inherent food culture,' trumpets

Dr Dogmeat, who has written a 347-page book on the subject. 'It is only

westerners who tell us it is barbaric. Theirs is a racist, anti-Korean

viewpoint.'

When I spoke to the eccentric professor this week, he claimed to

have conducted surveys showing that 80 per cent of Koreans had tried dog.

Once, it was eaten primarily by older people, but proponents suggest it

could become the new fad-food of the young middle classes. It is said to he

increasingly popular among younger people, particularly overworked

executives, who use it to boost their energy, and young women, who believe

it improves their complexion.

According to other experts, however, it is simply untrue that

dog eating in Korea has a long tradition. Indeed, they say, it was not even

eaten widely during the Korean War, when protein was scarce. But if

Professor Ahn is right, and dog consumption is rising, then the politicians

now trying to deny it are largely to blame. As a transparent sop to world

opinion, two laws were introduced either side of the Olympics, each

supposedly designed to stop dogs being used for food. The first, in 1984,

placed a blanket ban on all 'disgusting foods'. The second, in 1991, made it

an offence to slaughter any animal inhumanely or without good reason.

 

Since eating dogs is plainly disgusting, and since they were

then routinely clubbed to death with sticks - a technique said to flood the

meat with 'virility-enhancing' hormones-one might have thought this would,

indeed, put an end to the entire shameful custom.

Not a bit of it. The fact is that the Government never had any

intention of enforcing these 'laws'. According to the International Aid for

Korean Animals (IAKA)-a lonely voice in a country where animals are

routinely mistreated -the legislation was not even circulated to the police,

nor is there any record of a dog-trader or restaurant-owner being

prosecuted. As a result, the charity's organisers estimate, an astonishing

two million dogs are killed and eaten in Korea every year. They are usually

made into a stew-cum-soup, called boshintang, which was on the menu at

10,000 won (£5.50) at Ojoo, a speciality dogmeat restaurant in a Seoul

hotel.

 

CUSTOMERS can also buy them roasted, barbecued whole for

special occasions, or made into a very expensive herbal tonic, sold in the

sort of plastic packs commonly used for soft drinks. 'Over the past ten

years, the only thing that has changed is the method of execution,' says

Kyenan Kum, 54, who founded IAKA with her sister, Sunnan, after their own

pet was poisoned by dog-snatchers and sold for food.

 

'In the past, the dogs were usually hung up and beaten to death,

but now that happens only behind closed doors, or in the remote rural areas.

The dogs are usually electrocuted with prods these days.'

 

Kyenan used undercover investigators to compile a film on the

dog industry. It shows an Alsatian being garotted, while a Korean nurangi

(yellow dog)-the preferred species for food-yelps in agony and clings upside

down to a tree as it is pummelled with metal pipes.

 

The scenes were only marginally less harrowing when I toured

several of the biggest dog markets this week posing as a buyer, with Kyenan

and vet Dr Kyho Im. Our journey started in Moran Market, in the Seoul suburb

of Seongnam. Most of the food stalls were closed, but the dog-traders are

always open for business.

What struck me first, as we wandered among the dozen or so dog

shops, was the utter silence. Each store was fronted by five or six cages,

some containing as many as 20 thickly-furred 'yellow dogs', and yet there

was not a whimper.

Like the majority of meat dogs, these creatures had been bred

for the table on one of Korea's 500 or more farms. Perhaps the rumour was

true that the farmers sometimes perforated their ear-drums at birth to stop

them barking. Or maybe they were simply frightened.

The animals were upwards of a year old, but it was unlikely they

had ever been allowed outside their cages-for dogs are sold by weight, and

exercise means that they lose valuable body fat.

Noticing that I was a foreigner, the salesmen eyed us

aggressively. But one burly butcher was unconcerned and continued his grisly

work: burning the fur from the rigid corpse of a recently-killed dog with a

blow torch, then holding it up by the leg and hacking it into quarters.

How much for a whole dog, he was asked. 'That depends,' came the

suspicious

response. 'Maybe 250,000 won (£140) for a live one weighing around 25

kilograms.' He sharpened his knife. 'But 350,000 won (£190) if you want me

to process it for you.'

We attempted to extract more information, but the dog-traders

don't care for small-talk with outsiders. So we travelled 200 miles south to

Daegu, where fewer westerners venture and the people are less cautious. The

city will play host to four world Cup matches, but just a 20 minute drive

from the stadium is Daegu market. Viewed from the outside, it is a colourful

spectacle, crammed with exotic fruit and vegetables and all manner of fresh

fish.

But inside, in the labyrinth of narrow walkways, it is a vision

from hell. First, we come across the butchers' stalls, neatly laden with the

upturned carcasses of what appear to be very small dogs or puppies; then we

find countless cages of dogs and cats.

 

MOST of the dogs were yellow ones, but one cage contained about

eight English bull-mastiffs and another had a straggly haired border collie

which looked about 12 years old.

Unlike in Seongnam, the barking and yelping here was frenetic.

Kyenan said this was probably because most of these dogs were pets that had

been sold, discarded or stolen.

So much for the Korean Embassy spokesman in London, who assured

me that 'Koreans do not eat pet dogs, only dogs that have been farmed

specially.' Here in Daegu market, the dogs were kept in slightly better

conditions than in Seoul, but vet Dr Im said they were still suffering

terribly.

'You can see they are afraid. They have almost certainly been

beaten. But within one month, with proper care and affection, they could

again become loving family pets.' Such care will never come, of course.

 

Taegun Yu, 67, has run his Kim Chun 'dog tonic' store for 18

years. It is a stifling little dog-processing den lined with six spotlessly

scrubbed pressure cookers and a variety of other machines designed to turn

his animals into juice. He became friendly when I feigned interest in buying

one of the six yellow dogs. He said that in good times, he once sold more

than 30 dogs a month which meant an annual turnover exceeding £120,000.

Since the financial downturn, he has sold only five or six, hut he added:

`Things are getting a lot better now the economy is improving.' Customers,

he said, came from all walks of life-doctors, teachers, businessmen,

bankers. They would choose a dog and he would then fetch the butcher to kill

it.

 

Then he would place the whole carcass into the pressure cooker and boil it

for six hours until even the bones were reduced to mulch. Finally he added

various herbs, ginger and ginseng, before straining it into small plastic

containers. 'I never use a dog under 12 months old,' he said, as if this

were a virtue. Why, then, was he also keeping puppies caged outside?

'Oh, they are pet dogs,' he replied evenly. 'Nobody wants to eat

them. They're not meaty enough, and anyway they're not good for the male

virility. You can have one for 30,000 won (£16).'

Declining the offer, I asked him if he ever pitied his dogs.

'No, never. I've seen so many. Sometimes they are good-looking or

particularly healthy, and I admire them, but only as meat.'

The arrival of Mr Yu's angry-looking wife brought our

conversation to a premature close. By now, we had been standing near the

cages for more than two hours and the experience had left me feeling

physically sick.

My every instinct was to flee and never return. But the image of

one dog, in particular, was lodged in my mind, and I knew that I had to go

back. I found Mary exactly as I had left her, with her nose pressed against

the rusty bars, and for £175 she was mine. The experience of leaving her

cage, perhaps for the first time since she was born some 18 months ago, was

almost too much. Her tail hung between her legs, her back was hunched, and

she was so confused that she staggered dizzily. Within a few moments,

though, she had gathered her bearings and was able to walk with me for 400

yards to Dr Im's veterinary van.

We agreed to take her to Sunnan Kum's animal sanctuary and gave

her a big bowl of food-the first time she had tasted anything other than

scraps. An hour later, when I gave her a pat and said goodbye, her tail was

curled upwards and she was starting to make friends with some of the other

80 rescued dogs.

 

Two million dogs may perish in the cooking pots of South Korea

this glorious World Cup year. But Mary, at least, is safe. Anyone who wants

to help save dogs in South Korea or to send a donation should contact:

 

 

IAKA UK, PO Box 1961, Newcastle, Staffordshire ST5 2WE

 

 

 

Kyenan Kum

International Aid for Korean Animals

Korea Animal Protection Society

P.O. Box 20600, Oakland, 94620-0600, USA

www.koreananimals.org

iaka