West meets East: The clash of medicine

A medical journal on display at the Heo Jun Museum in Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

Heo Jun (1537-1615) the great healer. An exhibit at the Heo Jun Museum in Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

These days, the news is dominated by the coronavirus.

Everyone ― including doctors ― has an opinion that often conflicts with, or contradicts, the opinions of others. Sometimes these differences can become quite heated, with denunciations of "quackery" between the two parties. The present is no different from the past.

J. Bernard Busteed, an American missionary doctor in Korea in the 1890s, was quite opinionated when it came to the differences between Western medicine (which he obviously favored and viewed as real) and Korean traditional medicine (which he tolerated at times but generally mocked).

According to Busteed, there were two types of doctors in Korea: those of the low class and those of the high class. The doctors of the low class had no formal training (only what they picked up here and there) and gave what medicine they thought best ― trying one after another until they either healed their patient or killed him. There were many of these "irregular" doctors in Seoul and they were looked down on by their more-learned peers.

The high-class doctor, on the other hand, "has made a study of medicine for years, having originally learned from his father or from one high up in the profession and known to have great skill in curing disease."

Busteed cautioned that in Korea, as in the United States, one had to choose one's doctor carefully based on his reputation, "keen perceptive faculties" and understanding of what he was to treat.

Horace N. Allen was also critical of Korean traditional medicine, especially as to who should be practicing it. He claimed that "all educated Koreans seem to think they can practice medicine" and have no hesitation to try their hand at acupuncture. Using dirty needles, they sometimes did more damage than good.

A diorama of Heo Jun attending King Seonjo on his deathbed. Heo Jun Museum in Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

He recalled the experience of one of his Korean friends:

"His only son was the last male of seven generations: he was a handsome, strong young man of about twenty-one years. One day he complained of a headache at the back of his head and a friend who was with him proposed giving him a needle…

A statue of Heo Jun along Heo Jun Street in Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

Heogabawi marker in Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

"The boy's mother was behind the screen and urged him to take the needle and get relief from his pain. He consented and his friend boldly plunged the needle into the back of the sufferer's neck, accidentally piercing the medulla, so that the young man fell down frothing at the mouth and died.

"His mother died of a broken heart within a few hours, and my poor old friend was bereft of his son and his only wife; for he was one of the few natives of my acquaintance who had taken but one wife."

Of course, there were other extremes.

Another powerful tool of the traditional doctors was moxa (moxibustion). According to Busteed, "moxa is made of leaves powdered finely and compressed. There are two ways of applying the moxa ― one to apply directly to the skin, the other placed inside of a portion of a gourd which has been cut in two and used as an inverted cup. The moxa is attached to the top of this inverted cup, lighted and the gourd applied to the body and held in position by the hand."

Several of my friends ― Korean and foreign ― swear by moxa as a treatment for their ills. But, according to one of Busteed's Korean companions, it also had the ability to bring people back from the brink of death ― at least temporarily.

"A man who had been in the water three hours and apparently dead was brought very carefully to the shore, the attendants being careful to avoid unnecessary movement. He was laid on the warm kang floor of a house nearby, ashes were spread on the swollen abdomen and around the edges of the ashes in a circle were placed perhaps from twenty to thirty moxas. The body was compressed from the sides by a Korean pack saddle and then the moxas were lighted. It is said the water came out from all the openings in the body and the man was restored enough to breathe but not to consciousness."

Busteed's friend swore to the veracity of the account ― claiming to have witnessed it ― and admitted the man died the next day, but the fact he breathed at all after his apparent death was due to the moxa.

Western doctors were not the only ones critical of Korean traditional doctors. Philip Jaisohn (Seo Jae-pil), a naturalized American physician, described them as being "about the most helpless human beings as I had ever seen when they were called upon to treat a case of sickness. They had no knowledge of human anatomy, physiology, chemistry, physics or biology. They only thing they said they knew were the virtues of different herbs and some animal tissues, but they were absolutely ignorant as to their chemical composition or the reason for their administration."

Tomorrow we will look at some of these potions, ointments and salves ― and their ingredients.

The path to Heogabawi in Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

Heogabawi, also known as Gongam ― "the empty rock." According to legend, this was the birthplace of Heo Seonmun, the progenitor of the Heo clan. Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

A sign board at Heogabawi, Gangseo-gu, Seoul, January 2020. Robert Neff Collection

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