South Korea banned dog meat. So what’s going on with dogs?

If he does not preach the Word of God, Reverend Jze Yong Bong raises dogs for slaughter.

Business goes not so well. In fact, it is on the verge of becoming illegal.

“Since last summer, we tried to sell our dogs, but traders just continue to hesitate,” says 60 years Mr. Joe. “No one appeared.”

In 2024, the South Korean government implemented a nationwide ban on sales of dog meat for consumption. The legislation, which was adopted last January, gives farmers like Mr. Joe, until February 2027 to close their activities and sell the rest of the animals.

But many say that this is not enough time to stop the industry that has underpinned the livelihood for generations – and the authorities still did not come up with proper guarantees for farmers or according to half a million dog dogs.

Even those who support the ban, including experts and supporters of animal rights, noted the problems over its forced execution – including the complexity of rethinking dogs who, saved from the floor of the murder, are now faced with an increasingly likely threat of euthanasia.

In the middle of the exquisite period, the dogs are with hundreds of practically poor animals, farms that cannot be closed, and there is little tools to apply food on the table.

“People are suffering,” says Mr. Joe, who is also the president of the Korean food dog association, a group representing the industry. “We have drowned in debt, we cannot pay it, and some can’t even … find a new job.

“This is a hopeless situation.”

Chang has 18 months to get rid of 600 dogs.

After that, the 33-year-old meat farmer-whom we agreed with anonymization, fearing the return reaction-sentence up to two years in prison.

“Real, even just on my farm, I can’t process the number of dogs I have at the time,” he says. “At this point I put all my assets (in the farm) – and yet they don’t even take dogs.”

Under “they”, Chang does not just mean that traders and butchers who bought an average of half a dozen dogs per week.

He also refers to human rights defenders and authorities, who, in his opinion, are so difficult to ban the trade of dogs, does not have a clear plan what to do with the remains of animals – from which there are 500,000, according to the government.

“They (the authorities) have passed the law without a real plan, and now they say they can’t even pick up dogs.”

Li Sangung, head of Humane World for Korea Animal (HWAK), repeats these problems.

“Although the ban on the dog’s meat has passed, both the government and civilian groups are still fighting how to save the rest of the dogs,” he says. “One of the area that is still missing is a discussion around the dogs left behind.”

A press secretary of the Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Rural Areas (MAFRA) told the BBC that if the owners of the farm abandoned their dogs, local authorities would accept the property and manage them.

However, having rethinking them, it turned out to be difficult.

Because the weight is equal to profits in the dog meat industry, the farms usually prefer large breeds. But in a very urbanized South Korean society, where many people live in residential complexes, seeking pets often want the opposite.

There is also a social stigma associated with dogs that come from meat farms, explains Mr. The problem is additionally complicated by the fact that many either clean or mixed Tosa-Inu, a breed that is classified as “dangerous” in South Korea and requires state resolution as pets.

Meanwhile, rescue shelters have already been overcrowded.

This perfect storm of obstacles indicates a perverted irony: that innumerable so -called rescue dog, where it will never go anywhere else, are now faced with the prospect of being strewn.

“It’s just incredible,” says Chang.

“As the law was passed in accordance with the requirements of these groups, I suggested that they also developed a decision for dogs – as if they were responsible for them. But now I hear that even animal rights groups say that euthanasia is the only option.”

Cho Hed Kyun, Head of the Korean Animal Protection Association, was recognized in September 2024 that while groups will try to save as many animals as possible, “there will be dogs left over”.

“If the rest of the dogs become” lost and abandoned animals, “it is great, but they will be poured,” she said.

The government sought to harden these problems in a few weeks, saying that the euthanization of animals was “certainly” not included in their plan.

Recently, the Mafra has informed the BBC that it invest about 6 billion Korean wins (4.3 million dollars; 3.2 million pounds) annually for animal shelter and supporting private facilities, and offers up to $ 600,000 (450 dollars; 324 pounds).

But Chun Mun Sun, the director of the Veterinary Medical Education Department at the Seoul National University, agrees that the government’s broader plan on the remains of dogs is not enough.

“There must be a specific discussion on how to” dispose of “dogs,” she says.

“Both adoption and euthanasia should be on the table. (But) when we went on efforts to rescue dogs from severe slaughter, to only pour them, it is clear that people feel broken and evil.”

Some searched for solutions further, sending animals abroad to more eagerly adopters in countries such as Canada, the United Kingdom and the United States.

In 2023, the HWAK team saved about 200 dogs from the farm in Asan – all of which have been sent to Canada and the United States since then.

Former owner of this farm, 74-year-old Jan Cong-Tsa, told the BBC that, watching the rescuers loading dogs into their trucks, he was surprised by the level of sympathy they showed.

“When I saw them treated with animals – as if they were doing people, so gently and with love – it really moved me,” he said.

“We do not treat them like that. For us upbringing dogs was just a way to make a living. But those people from a group of animals treated dogs, like humans with dignity, and it really touched my heart.”

Mr. Yang was in a hurry to add that he did not approve of the ban on dog farming.

“If the dog meat is forbidden because dogs are animal, why do you eat other animals such as cows, pigs or chicken?” he said. “It’s the same. These things exist in nature to live.”

Eating the dog does not coincide with the food of other meat, Ms Chun reports. She notes that dog meat is more risk in terms of food safety and hygiene – especially in South Korea, where it has not been integrated into a formal, regulated meat production system.

And although the consumption level has fluctuated throughout Korea’s history, it has become increasingly taboo in recent years.

In a state poll since 2024 it was found that only 8% of respondents said they tried dog meat for the previous 12 months – decreasing compared to 27% in 2015. About 7% said they would continue to eat until February 2027, and about 3.3% said they would continue after the ban had entered into full activity.

Meanwhile, as of June 2025, 623 from 1537 South Korea’s dog farms closed.

“As society and culture have developed, South Korean society has decided to stop the production of canine meat,” says Ms Chun.

And yet, for many, it remains the cornerstone of the industry in which they built their lives.

Each member of the dog meat, who BBC acted with uncertainty in how they would support themselves now that their long -standing existence was considered illegal.

Some say they quit to the life of poverty, noting that they were born during the Korean war and knew how to live hungry. Others suggested that trade could pass underground.

However, many agree that repression is particularly concerned about young farmers.

“Young people in the field are really faced with gloomy reality,” says Mr. Joe. “As they cannot sell dogs, they also can’t close quickly. They are not stuck, in no case or back.”

Changa reminds that when he started working in this area ten years ago, at 23, “the perception of dog meat was not so negative.”

“However,” he adds, “there were some comments around me, so even then I knew it wasn’t what I could do throughout my life.”

The ban came faster than he expected – and from the moment of his announcement he says that “earning a living has become incredibly uncertain.”

“Everything we hope is that the exquisite term can be extended so that the process (fighting the rest of the dogs) can happen more gradually.”

Many others hope for the same. But since the deed meat trade is pulled out of the feet of those who came from this, Mr. Joe cannot but think about the gloomy thought: that some farmers will not be able to survive the uncertainty much longer.

“Now people are still holding on, hoping that something may change – perhaps the exquisite term will be extended,” he says. “But by 2027, I really believe that there will be something terrible.

“There are so many people whose lives have completely unfolded.”