The recent ban on dog meat in South Korea has left farmers like Reverend Joo Yeong-bong struggling to navigate the transition. With significant numbers of dogs left without homes and inadequate government plans for rehoming, both farmers and animal rights advocates find themselves in an increasingly precarious situation.
South Korea's Dog Meat Ban: A Difficult Transition for Farmers and Canines
South Korea's Dog Meat Ban: A Difficult Transition for Farmers and Canines
While South Korea's groundbreaking ban on dog meat is celebrated by animal rights advocates, the fallout raises urgent questions about the future of farmers and the dogs they are leaving behind.
As he preaches compassion and care, Reverend Joo Yeong-bong faces a profound dilemma. The 60-year-old dog farmer’s business teeters on the edge of legality as South Korea enforces a nationwide prohibition on the sale of dog meat for consumption, starting in 2024. While this historic legislation has been embraced by many, including animal rights advocates, its abrupt implementation is ushering in a series of challenges for the farmers and their canine stock.
Farmers have until February 2027 to close operations and find homes for their remaining dogs, yet the path forward remains murky. Mr. Joo, who heads the Korean Association of Edible Dogs, notes the economic strain his fellow farmers face. “People are suffering,” he laments, “We’re drowning in debt, can’t pay it off, and some can’t even find new work."
A troubling predicament is emerging as farmers grapple with hundreds of unsold dogs. One anonymous farmer named Chan-woo shares his fear of legal consequences if he cannot place his 600 dogs by the deadline. “Realistically, I can't manage this many dogs in this time,” he explains. Complaints abound regarding government oversight and the apparent lack of a robust plan for the hundreds of thousands of dogs still housed at farms.
Lee Sangkyung, a campaign manager for Humane World for Animals Korea, highlights the void in post-ban strategy. “Both the government and civic groups are still grappling with how to rescue the remaining dogs,” he says, and the rehoming effort is proving especially complex due to size preferences in urban pet cultures and stigmas surrounding formerly farmed dogs.
Rescue shelters are quickly filling to capacity, leaving a heartbreaking prospect for countless dogs: euthanasia. Risks of overpopulation have alarmed animal advocates who initially celebrated the ban. “If remaining dogs become ‘lost and abandoned animals,’ then it’s heartbreaking but they will be euthanized,” notes Cho Hee-kyung, head of the Korean Animal Welfare Association.
Despite the grim outlook, efforts are underway to transport some dogs to foreign countries where adoption rates are higher. Over 200 dogs were rescued from a meat farm and sent to Canada and the United States this year, as reported by the Humane World for Animals Korea.
However, property owners like Yang Jong-tae express mixed feelings about the ban, questioning the moral implications of valuing certain animals over others. “If dog meat is banned because dogs are animals, then why is it okay to eat other animals like cows, pigs, or chicken?” he ponders.
Current government statistics reveal a stark decline in dog meat consumption, with only 8% of Koreans having tried it in the past year, down from 27% in 2015. Yet, the transition is fraught with uncertainty for farmers who depend on this centuries-old trade. The looming 2027 deadline casts a shadow over their futures. “Young people in this industry are really facing a bleak reality,” Mr. Joo reflects “Something terrible will happen.”
Although coordinated efforts to rehabilitate the dog population are essential, time is running critically short. There is a pressing need for a conversation on how to effectively support both the dogs in limbo and the farmers who have dedicated their lives to a now-outlawed industry. As the nation grapples with its complex relationship with animal consumption, the impending reality underscores a significant socio-economic and ethical dilemma that threatens to unravel many lives.
Farmers have until February 2027 to close operations and find homes for their remaining dogs, yet the path forward remains murky. Mr. Joo, who heads the Korean Association of Edible Dogs, notes the economic strain his fellow farmers face. “People are suffering,” he laments, “We’re drowning in debt, can’t pay it off, and some can’t even find new work."
A troubling predicament is emerging as farmers grapple with hundreds of unsold dogs. One anonymous farmer named Chan-woo shares his fear of legal consequences if he cannot place his 600 dogs by the deadline. “Realistically, I can't manage this many dogs in this time,” he explains. Complaints abound regarding government oversight and the apparent lack of a robust plan for the hundreds of thousands of dogs still housed at farms.
Lee Sangkyung, a campaign manager for Humane World for Animals Korea, highlights the void in post-ban strategy. “Both the government and civic groups are still grappling with how to rescue the remaining dogs,” he says, and the rehoming effort is proving especially complex due to size preferences in urban pet cultures and stigmas surrounding formerly farmed dogs.
Rescue shelters are quickly filling to capacity, leaving a heartbreaking prospect for countless dogs: euthanasia. Risks of overpopulation have alarmed animal advocates who initially celebrated the ban. “If remaining dogs become ‘lost and abandoned animals,’ then it’s heartbreaking but they will be euthanized,” notes Cho Hee-kyung, head of the Korean Animal Welfare Association.
Despite the grim outlook, efforts are underway to transport some dogs to foreign countries where adoption rates are higher. Over 200 dogs were rescued from a meat farm and sent to Canada and the United States this year, as reported by the Humane World for Animals Korea.
However, property owners like Yang Jong-tae express mixed feelings about the ban, questioning the moral implications of valuing certain animals over others. “If dog meat is banned because dogs are animals, then why is it okay to eat other animals like cows, pigs, or chicken?” he ponders.
Current government statistics reveal a stark decline in dog meat consumption, with only 8% of Koreans having tried it in the past year, down from 27% in 2015. Yet, the transition is fraught with uncertainty for farmers who depend on this centuries-old trade. The looming 2027 deadline casts a shadow over their futures. “Young people in this industry are really facing a bleak reality,” Mr. Joo reflects “Something terrible will happen.”
Although coordinated efforts to rehabilitate the dog population are essential, time is running critically short. There is a pressing need for a conversation on how to effectively support both the dogs in limbo and the farmers who have dedicated their lives to a now-outlawed industry. As the nation grapples with its complex relationship with animal consumption, the impending reality underscores a significant socio-economic and ethical dilemma that threatens to unravel many lives.
