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According to some quick Google Maps calculations, it's about 4,880 miles from the most easterly tip of Cyprus to the westernmost point of South Korea. I'm no geographer, so I might be off by a few dozen miles, but the point remains: it's really far away.
The reason I bring this up is not because I'm hoping to fly to Cyprus to sample some kleftiko or koupepia, as delicious as I'm sure they are. Rather, it's because the European Union (EU) ambassadors to Korea recently published a joint statement calling for an end to the death penalty in the republic. Cyprus, as the easternmost member of the EU, is the closest part of the bloc to Korea.
Since seeing the ambassadors' statement, I've been trying to figure out how I feel.
On the one hand, although I do sometimes waiver, I'm not a huge fan of the death penalty. There are all the classic arguments about possible miscarriages of justice, and the fact that, as the EU ambassadors note, the punishment is "irreversible." It might be mentioned, of course, that you can't get back the years spent in prison for a crime you didn't commit, but the point stands.
The campaign to end the death penalty is an admirable one. Whatever you think of the EU, it is surely to its credit that it places such a high value on life and seeks to end injustice. The people behind the EU's stance clearly have their hearts in the right place.
But I still feel uneasy about it.
If we accept the EU's opposition to the death penalty is a considered and principled position, so too we must concede that those who favor capital punishment are just as considerate and honest in their beliefs. It's pretty easy to paint supporters of the death penalty as blood-thirsty maniacs, but such a characterization is unfair. Even if you don't agree with the position, it's obviously possible that, after careful consideration of the issue, someone may take an honest stand in favor of the death penalty.
More concerning than the issue itself, however, is the fact that this is an institution on the other side of the world intervening in the internal affairs of a completely separate country. It reminds me of the Westerners who campaign to end dog meat consumption. It takes mere seconds on Twitter to find charities based in the U.K. and the U.S. campaigning against Asian dog meat consumption. They talk of "education" and "rescue," and while they are certainly earnest, their arguments lack the logic shown by the campaigners against the death penalty.
As far as I can see, there's nothing fundamentally different between killing a dog and killing a cow or chicken, a belief which the campaigners actually seem to share. In fact, every anti-dog-meat charity I have found is a vegetarian organization. Take, for example, British charity @notodogmeat's tweet that "dogs and cats are not food. (no animal is)" (sic). If they really believe that "no animal" is food, why are they so focused on preventing the consumption of dog meat in far-off Asia, rather than stopping the far more widespread consumption of beef, chicken, lamb and pork at home in the U.K?
I do understand, of course, that it just feels different: people have a stronger bond with dogs than they do with pigs or lambs. But hundreds of millions of Hindus revere cows. Abattoir workers in a leafy English shire are not about to become suddenly receptive to an Indian charity's education program explaining what is so horrific about their work. They're not going to stop slaughtering cows and no one expects them to. So why is there an expectation that Western discomfort should stop Koreans from eating dog meat?
And even though I'm unconvinced by their case, I respect that opponents of dog meat hold sincere, legitimate beliefs. That respect, however, does not go both ways. Campaigners talk of "savages" and "sick" behavior. They swear, they mock, they condescend.
And in doing so, they help me make up my mind about the dilemma I started with: this is cultural imperialism, pure and simple. The modern campaigners use different tactics for sure and are gentler, more humane; but underlying their actions is the same fundamental belief in their own superiority.
Like the EU ambassadors, the Western anti-dog-meat campaigners are acting out of a sincere belief that they are doing the right thing. Presumably, however, so were plenty of the colonists and soldiers who spread Europe's power across the world in previous centuries. The imperialists of old were so sure of their superiority that they declared themselves justified in dictating the laws and lives of the "savages" they conquered.
It's simply no one else's business what someone in rural Gangwon-do eats, and it certainly isn't up to the EU how an East Asian country organizes its justice system. I'm not arguing for isolationism ― of course it may sometimes be necessary to intervene in another country to prevent atrocities. But this isn't even about saving human life: as the ambassadors' letter itself noted, no one has actually been executed in Korea since 1998.
South Korea is a functioning democracy, and its government has democratic legitimacy. Let's not get into whether the same could be said for the EU, but even the staunchest Europhile must concede that the Korean government has more legitimacy in Korea itself than far-off Europeans do.
If the Korean people want to ban the death penalty or end the consumption of dog meat, then great. If not, then that's great too. Either way, well-meaning organizations should respect national sovereignty and leave Koreans to govern themselves.
Don't get me wrong: there's so much to love about Europe's countries, cultures and values. But the EU has enough to worry about without expanding its reach 4,880 miles east. So please, eurocrats; please, Western charities ― however good your intentions are, just let Koreans make their own laws. In the meantime, can't we just all come together over a nice plate of Cypriot delicacies? I suggest halloumi: surely a nice block of fried cheese is something we can all unite over. And better yet, it's even vegetarian.
Dr. Scott Shepherd is a British-American academic. He has taught in universities in the U.K. and Korea, and is currently Assistant Professor of English at Chongshin University, Seoul. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.
