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If you're now feeling ill, I have a history lesson to ease your discomfort or at least distract you for the next few minutes.
Question: What did Korea look like 60 years ago?
Hint: Not like this.
Photo Courtesy of Stewart McKay
60 years ago, Korea ranked among the poorest countries in the world, with the majority of the population surviving at or below subsistence. With the loss of more than 2.5 million civilians and roughly 90% of Seoul leveled in the Korean War, the country struggled to recover and adapt using whatever means necessary to survive. Today, Korea is in the top 20 of the world's largest economies, which they accomplished through sound governing, superhuman willpower, and some substantial financial help. As Irma Adelman, from the University of California, Berkeley, explains it:
"Economic recovery was slow; the average growth of per capita GNP was merely 1% per year; and the economy was kept from collapse only through massive economic assistance by the United States. No observer of Korea's development during the last fifty years can fail to be deeply impressed by its achievements...Korea has become a developed, OECD country, with a poverty population below 10%. From a country which, in the mid-sixties, was wondering whether its per capita income would ever exceed $100 per year, it now has a per capita income of $10000."
The rate of development boggles my mind. It's hard to miss the bizarre juxtaposition of Abercrombie-clad youth walking and texting their way past groups of ajummas, who huddle on the sidewalk sorting vegetables. Even more odd: the vegetable sorting often takes place directly in front of shiny new supermarkets, which regularly crop up overnight. Since moving here, I've become accustomed to seeing entire neighborhoods transform in a matter of weeks, with the abrupt leveling of dilapidated buildings and near-immediate Grand Opening Celebrations only days afterward. Meanwhile, the ajummas sort on, seemingly unphased by the rapid change around them.
My friend, Younga, shared that that many in the elderly community grow and sell vegetables to earn pocket money; and, more importantly, pass the time with a sense of purpose. It's still amusing to imagine my grandparents planted in front of WalMart, contentedly shucking ears of corn and shouting for the attention of shoppers.
EMart's Greatest Competitor?
Photo Courtesy of Ciara Skelly
All of this does relate to my original topic. Drastic differences in lifestyle exist between generations. The woman shown above likely lived through the war and maintains a life filled with hard work, though she's embraced the modern trends of iridescent purple coats and jet black hair dye. Koreans my age live in a world comparable to what I experienced in the U.S., complete with excellent roadways, advanced technology, and the availability of more sugary, packaged food than any person should consume. Dogs are subject to the generational differences, as well. Wedged uncomfortably between my school and a construction zone for a monstrous apartment complex rests a tiny old house, with a garden and... dog pasture, of sorts.
Once, as I watched the ten or so dogs happily wrestling eachother from the window of my classroom, my co-worker, Seongsu, stated, "You know, they will eat them in the summer". He quickly retracted his statement in response to my mortified expression, but eventually re-confirmed it. Along with many others, the elderly couple who live in the house have always eaten dogs in the summer, though all of my co-teachers are quick to assure me that they've never touched it. It's an old custom. "We must be careful not to judge them," Younga said, "but young people don't do it these days".
It took time for me to balance out my disgust. I'm not a vegetarian, so I do eat animals. Dogs are, in fact, animals. During my EPIK teacher training, I heard that a common greeting after the Korean War translated to something like, "Have you eaten today?". It's not a stretch to imagine the quite recent necessity of their consumption in Korea. And, more than that, the dogs clearly lead a happy life right up to the end. Had I not watched the sobering documentary, "Food, Inc.", about the American meat packing industry, I might have touted the superiority of how livestock are treated at home. Instead, I'm acutely aware that this situation just may be more considerate than the meat that comes from Hormel or Tyson.
Still, I won't be eating dog, along with the rest of my generation in Korea, and I prefer to remain partially oblivious to the exact procedures taken to supply my diet with meat (kidding. This makes me want to take more responsibility). Koreans do differentiate between pets and the dogs that are consumed on Chusok, but I feel ill at ease when strolling past a sophisticated animal hospital and grooming salon on this particular holiday.
In school, Younga asked me, "You've heard about 'The dog days of summer'? To beat the heat, we eat some kind of stamina food. There is a saying, 'We beat the heat using the hot food.' The older generation eats dog and we eat lots of chicken". If chickens ever wise up and become better pets, we'll have an even greater moral dilemma on our hands. We eat a lot of chicken.
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As always, I welcome your comments, corrections, and suggestions. I know this topic is more loaded than my usual subject matter, so you're very welcome to share your thoughts.
For more information on the state of Korea after the war, check out these references:
http://are.berkeley.edu/~irmaadelman/KOREA.html
http://www.asianinfo.org/asianinfo/korea/economy.htm
http://www.history.com/topics/korean-war
