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Children pose with oxen carrying wood in Seoul circa 1908. / Courtesy of Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
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Cattle were a very important part of Joseon society. In a missive to his government, Walter C. Hillier -- the British Consul-General in Seoul, wrote "[Korea] is noted for its fine breed of cattle, which are used exclusively in farm work and share with the sturdy ponies -- also an indigenous breed, small, but great weight carriers, with exceptional powers of endurance -- the whole of the carrying trade. Hundreds of bulls enter this city alone everyday with firewood, grain, and other commodities, and beef is a common article of food."
But in the fall of 1891, things changed rapidly. Franklin Ohlinger, an American residing in Seoul, wrote that within just a few weeks of the discovery of a case of rinderpest, the Korean bulls "had entirely disappeared from the streets." The only cattle to be seen were the dead and dying.
Hillier blamed the Korean government "as no measures were taken to isolate the infected cattle, it spread with appalling rapidity." There were claims that only two or three cows in a herd of one hundred survived, but Hillier suggested that this was an exaggeration and that the mortality rate was actually between 60 or 70 percent. He did, however, acknowledge that "competent authorities" estimated thousands of bulls in the Seoul vicinity had died.
The price of cattle fell sharply -- to a tenth of their value -- based upon the worth of their bones and hides. Many cattle owners butchered their stock before (and possibly after) they died and the price of beef rapidly fell so that "for nearly two months beef-eating seemed to constitute the chief occupation of the masses."
Of course, many people worried about the safety of eating infected beef which led to a subsequent demand for another domesticated animal -- dog. "Fat dogs are now in demand," reported Ohlinger, "[because] many of the poorer people [believe] that a corresponding fear of dog's meat will counteract any poison there may have been lurking in the beef."
Another resident of Seoul, identified only as "M," reported that the loss of so many cattle caused a "great inconvenience to traffic" resulting in merchants raising the price on their goods "thus creating much anxiety to the common people." The common people were not the only ones to suffer. The Korean government's herds of black cows were also decimated by the disease and there were not enough for the ancestral ceremonies of the monarchs forcing officials to procure cattle from the markets.
But worse was to come.
Winter arrived early and more severe than usual. Ohlinger lamented that as "nearly all the fuel for the city as well as the freight between [Jemulpo] and Seoul is being carried or hauled heretofore by bullocks, we are spending the winter on the uncomfortable edge of a fuel-famine." The only option was to transport brush and wood on the backs of men -- which led to exorbitant prices.
Rinderpest may seem to have been a boon for brush and wood gatherers. It may have made their work even more dangerous. Rinderpest also killed large numbers of deer. Tigers, which depended upon deer as prey, may have turned their attention to humans.
Fortunately, rinderpest is no longer a threat to Korea and, for that matter, the world. In 2011, it was officially declared that rinderpest was the second infectious disease -- the other being smallpox -- to be globally eradicated.
Robert Neff is a historian and columnist for The Korea Times. He can be reached at robertneff103@gmail.com.