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The film was a documentary covering Korea's dog-meat trade from all angles. Dog farmers – whose demeanors ranged from coolly professional to savagely inhumane - showed their facilities, activities and doomed charges. A pusillanimous National Assembly adviser prattled about the threat to the "national image" if the trade were legalized. An impotent local official accompanied animal rights activists on an inspection visit to a dog farm, where he was turned away at the gate and ended up apologizing to the farmer. Consumers and chefs discussed canine cuisine.
Most traumatically, the documentary captured footage of diseased, wounded dogs in cages; dead puppies being hurled into the trash; livestock slaughtered with blunt instrument strikes to the skull; and packs of dogs crammed into tiny cages for transport from Jeju to mainland markets.
These sequences are benchmarks for under-cover filmmaking. If we accept Sir Max Hastings' definition of a journalist's role ("Cause trouble!"), this was fine journalism. It is a challenging film that deserves to be widely viewed and debated. It wrought behavioral change in me: I have eaten dog meat in the past, but after watching this film, won't again. (Though, having watched it, I reached the opposite conclusion of the animal-rights activists who helped make the film: I am convinced that the sector needs to be fully legalized, so related slaughter and butchery can be properly regulated.)
Camerawork and editing were first class. The length probably needs to be cut (it runs at 90 minutes) to increase tempo. But overall this was hard-hitting material, and ― as suggested by one reporter ― may win prizes at film fests.
One might expect such a professional, difficult-to-make film to be the work of a well-funded team of pros from KBS, EBS, or perhaps Channel 4. In fact, it was done on a shoe-string, over two years, with money raised from crowd-sourcing. This may be the future of journalism at a time when the Internet is killing off one traditional media outlet after another.
This trend is problematic. Professional news content that informs the general public and that is (ideally) independent of interested parties in business or politics is critical for democracy. While the profession of journalism is rightly criticized for its failure to respond to the "free information" internet era, one has to also ask how many other professions could remain viable when the public experts their products/services pro bono.
There is a real danger that journalism – and its intrinsic skill sets – will die. This would leave the media space open to bloviated opinionists and fake news merchants who have agendas that are far more dangerous than "selling news."
This is why the film may be an encouraging signpost toward media's future. The backbone of the production team was an experienced independent journalist (who, incidentally, cut his teeth on this very newspaper). What he produced is not disinterested journalism ― he allied with animal-rights activists, and I guess the latter were the main source of funding ― but the documentary had the all-important quality of balance: Dog farmers, politicians and bureaucrats got to tell their side of the story.
The issue now is distribution: How will the film be shown and seen, beyond YouTube? This is a question I cannot answer. I suspect no mainstream Korean channel will touch it.
There is a "touche" to this story. The journalist invited dog farmers to attend the screening; they declined. They are apparently busy making their own counter-documentary ― focusing on the pig, beef and chicken industries.
In a free society, this is their right. While the internet may be killing traditional media, it empowers anyone to create and distribute self-made content. I suspect their effort will be less effective than the professionally produced "anti-" voice ― but we shall see: it may offer value.
As traditional media withers, new media must rise. Let a thousand flowers bloom…
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.