“Asian Ethics”: the Emotional Unifier of Greater Asia
The dogs just barked away in their little cages.
As I passed by the inconspicuous corner of the market, I could not have possibly missed those distinct sounds. I had to keep up my nonchalant appearance as I continued strolling down the dusty little market streets.
But the hawking would not stop. Targeting the strange, innocent-looking young tourist, the vendors came. They blocked my way down the street, whispering into my ear, “hey, how about one for tonight? It is cheap today.”
I had to look where the vendors were pointing their fingers. The dogs, all of which perhaps the most massive I have ever seen in my lifetime of strange travels, looked back at me from their cages. Some whimpered at the sight of a “new guy.” All examined me with almost teary eyes.
Toward the further inquiring voice of the overly enthusiastic vendors, I had no response. I was at a loss for words, any words. The sight of “the men’s best friends” happily wagging their tails at the sight of a new human friend was nowhere to be seen. There were only the almost constant cracks of whip from the “cage managers” against any animal who dared making a rebellious sound during their important trade negotiation.
Yet, I, the usually adventurous and fearless lone traveler, felt more scared and depressed than those unusual caged creatures waiting to be slaughtered for human consumption. I just froze in front of a little stall in a little market, not even 30 minutes outside the modern Korean metropolis of Seoul. I felt like a part of me was in the cages, right next to those normally fun-loving creatures quietly staring at the ground before them, waiting for their final, inescapable fate.
I was then suddenly shocked back to my senses. Behind the vendor who still stood before me and still begging for my business, other dog-meat vendors were cheerfully chatting away, to my disbelief, in Mandarin Chinese. Bewildered, I once again examined the inconspicuous little street corner at which I stood. Greeting me behind the live-animal-selling cages were disproportionate numbers of shops with signage in Chinese characters, advertising everything from herbs, cheap toys, to of course, dog meat.
It is quite a way to illustrate Asian unity indeed. On a sunny early Saturday afternoon, a Chinese-Korean trader with his shipment of live cargo met with an idealistic Chinese-American at a little street corner of a maze-like market in suburban South Korea.
---
In many ways, Asian people do share some strange habits. Food may be the most infamous in the Western world.
From the stories of Korean countryside seeing their dogs disappear during important festivals, to the news of Japanese whaling ships fighting Greenpeace to obtain that century-old delicacy, to the rumors of people eating wild cats in China as the beginning of SARS, and the fables of Indians drinking cow urine for strength and “genuine” sanctimony, within the Western imagination, Asia cannot be without her often well-known dark spots.
No matter how advanced Asia becomes economically and politically, the Westerners can only grimace at some of her continuing traditions, simply because such Oriental habits is not acceptable in the Western code of ethics based on centuries of Judeo-Christian teachings.
Even these deeply entrenched Asian culinary traditions have to take a step back for PR reasons. In Japan, my taking picture of whale meat in a “fish” market was severely criticized. And here in Korea, dog meat soup is now only referred euphemistically as “Revitalizing” or “Energizing” Soup, inferring only its traditional role of fighting off summer laziness, without any single mention of the contents.
At the request of a close foreign coworker, I went to find “Revitalizing Soup” in Seoul. We found a dish simply called “The Soup” with the same contents.
Perhaps because both of us are Asian, we had no qualms about seeking out and actually eating dog meat without too much anxiety. Although the pictures of his pet dogs and my visit to the dog-selling market continued to race through our minds, we actually spoke of the taste and the texture of the meat as if it is some sort of normal cuisine, “It is tough, but interestingly gamey...I would not mind eating it again if I knew it was not dog.”
Both of us did grow up outside of Asia, and neither of us would consider ourselves immoral beings. One is a devout Christian who believes social justice and the other is a left-wing internationalist who insists on social equality. Yet both of us, perhaps because we are Asian, somehow said that, trying, just trying, the Soup once would be no problem, physically or emotionally.
But for us, the Western-educated Asians, the experience ultimately cannot be without its uneasiness. Whether it is eating dog-meat, whale sashimi, or fried frog legs and insects, the feedback cannot be 100% positive. After all, most of our friends did grow up with Western values, so we can possibly brag about our experiences without portraying ourselves as little rebellious “badboys.”
And as Western influences spread to every corner of Asia, most Asians have come to agree with the Western characterizations of such Asian habits. My Korean students and coworkers also frowned upon me when I spoke off my adventures over the weekend. There were no laughs, no musings. What I received in response were only sheer embarrassments that the foreigner like me had to see “something like that.”
---
Within all this, one question begs to be asked.
Are these “morally appalling,” not to mention physically disgusting, Asian traditions, backed by their old-fashioned Asian principles, really deserve any sort of preservation?
In a world of moralistic convergence, in which Western-created concepts such as “democracy,” “nationalism,” and “basic freedoms,” and ironically, “free-market capitalism,” “individualism,” and “communism,” long dominated progress of modern socioeconomic, political, and cultural thoughts here in Asia, do the existence of any Asian values actually matter?
If my dog-filled weekend can illustrate anything, it would be the incredible tenacity of some traditions that people would expect to die out fastest. Even as ancestor worship, Confucianism, filial piety, and traditional attires are all given up under the incessant assault of Western materialism and individualism, somehow these foods survived.
The relatively “benign” Asian intellectual and social traditions, yet the “repulsive” culinary ones live on. It feels as if that, all over Asia, these sensationalized “weirdness,” besides our faces and languages, are the only Asian inventions that can survive against the Western onslaught.
So it is by these that we Asians have to collectively define ourselves.
The very survival of these practices shows that despite outward conformity and identification with “modern,” Western ways of thinking, Asians, underneath all that, still do stick by their own sense of moral definition. Even if the locals refuse to admit as such, the Asians, today just as in the centuries past, have their own idea of what is right and what is wrong, entirely separate from those originating in the Judeo-Christian communities.
However, the power of Western morality to market itself on the Asian continent is not to be underestimated. With their sense of philosophical superiority back by sense of socio-economic authority, the Western line of thought marches on, winning more and more young adherents even among the most conservative and traditionalist corners of Asia.
Thus, it has come for the time for Asia to unite in a concerted cultural resistance against the Western way of morality.
While this is not to suggest the complete preservation of all habits originating from Asia, it does mean that the preservation of Asian values and practices should not and must not depend upon how the West perceives them. In other words, how Asia develop herself culturally in the modern world will have to be decoupled from how the West makes of Asia and how Asians themselves make of the Western impression of Asian cultures.
In a time and age in which Western political systems have became the inevitable mainstream, and all Asian countries compete with one another under the auspices of an American-designed and dominated economic order, perhaps culture is that one thing that can still unite all Asians. If Asians can maintain their unique moral values, then perhaps our future generations can still identify Asia as more than just a diverse geographic block.
Dog-eating, whale-hunting, and insect-frying may all be shameful under the Western values. But despite all that, Asians have the moral responsibly to hold our heads up high and keep at least the principles behind those practices alive and well for the future.
It is our response to the continuing Western dominance on the cultural sphere. Asian integration into the Western political and economic systems does not necessarily mean Asian conformity to Western values and principles. We as Asians do have our unique ways of life, and we shall fight, together, as Chinese, Indians, Japanese, or Koreans, to defend those beliefs despite so-called Western moral high grounds.
As I passed by the inconspicuous corner of the market, I could not have possibly missed those distinct sounds. I had to keep up my nonchalant appearance as I continued strolling down the dusty little market streets.
But the hawking would not stop. Targeting the strange, innocent-looking young tourist, the vendors came. They blocked my way down the street, whispering into my ear, “hey, how about one for tonight? It is cheap today.”
I had to look where the vendors were pointing their fingers. The dogs, all of which perhaps the most massive I have ever seen in my lifetime of strange travels, looked back at me from their cages. Some whimpered at the sight of a “new guy.” All examined me with almost teary eyes.
Toward the further inquiring voice of the overly enthusiastic vendors, I had no response. I was at a loss for words, any words. The sight of “the men’s best friends” happily wagging their tails at the sight of a new human friend was nowhere to be seen. There were only the almost constant cracks of whip from the “cage managers” against any animal who dared making a rebellious sound during their important trade negotiation.
Yet, I, the usually adventurous and fearless lone traveler, felt more scared and depressed than those unusual caged creatures waiting to be slaughtered for human consumption. I just froze in front of a little stall in a little market, not even 30 minutes outside the modern Korean metropolis of Seoul. I felt like a part of me was in the cages, right next to those normally fun-loving creatures quietly staring at the ground before them, waiting for their final, inescapable fate.
I was then suddenly shocked back to my senses. Behind the vendor who still stood before me and still begging for my business, other dog-meat vendors were cheerfully chatting away, to my disbelief, in Mandarin Chinese. Bewildered, I once again examined the inconspicuous little street corner at which I stood. Greeting me behind the live-animal-selling cages were disproportionate numbers of shops with signage in Chinese characters, advertising everything from herbs, cheap toys, to of course, dog meat.
It is quite a way to illustrate Asian unity indeed. On a sunny early Saturday afternoon, a Chinese-Korean trader with his shipment of live cargo met with an idealistic Chinese-American at a little street corner of a maze-like market in suburban South Korea.
---
In many ways, Asian people do share some strange habits. Food may be the most infamous in the Western world.
From the stories of Korean countryside seeing their dogs disappear during important festivals, to the news of Japanese whaling ships fighting Greenpeace to obtain that century-old delicacy, to the rumors of people eating wild cats in China as the beginning of SARS, and the fables of Indians drinking cow urine for strength and “genuine” sanctimony, within the Western imagination, Asia cannot be without her often well-known dark spots.
No matter how advanced Asia becomes economically and politically, the Westerners can only grimace at some of her continuing traditions, simply because such Oriental habits is not acceptable in the Western code of ethics based on centuries of Judeo-Christian teachings.
Even these deeply entrenched Asian culinary traditions have to take a step back for PR reasons. In Japan, my taking picture of whale meat in a “fish” market was severely criticized. And here in Korea, dog meat soup is now only referred euphemistically as “Revitalizing” or “Energizing” Soup, inferring only its traditional role of fighting off summer laziness, without any single mention of the contents.
At the request of a close foreign coworker, I went to find “Revitalizing Soup” in Seoul. We found a dish simply called “The Soup” with the same contents.
Perhaps because both of us are Asian, we had no qualms about seeking out and actually eating dog meat without too much anxiety. Although the pictures of his pet dogs and my visit to the dog-selling market continued to race through our minds, we actually spoke of the taste and the texture of the meat as if it is some sort of normal cuisine, “It is tough, but interestingly gamey...I would not mind eating it again if I knew it was not dog.”
Both of us did grow up outside of Asia, and neither of us would consider ourselves immoral beings. One is a devout Christian who believes social justice and the other is a left-wing internationalist who insists on social equality. Yet both of us, perhaps because we are Asian, somehow said that, trying, just trying, the Soup once would be no problem, physically or emotionally.
But for us, the Western-educated Asians, the experience ultimately cannot be without its uneasiness. Whether it is eating dog-meat, whale sashimi, or fried frog legs and insects, the feedback cannot be 100% positive. After all, most of our friends did grow up with Western values, so we can possibly brag about our experiences without portraying ourselves as little rebellious “badboys.”
And as Western influences spread to every corner of Asia, most Asians have come to agree with the Western characterizations of such Asian habits. My Korean students and coworkers also frowned upon me when I spoke off my adventures over the weekend. There were no laughs, no musings. What I received in response were only sheer embarrassments that the foreigner like me had to see “something like that.”
---
Within all this, one question begs to be asked.
Are these “morally appalling,” not to mention physically disgusting, Asian traditions, backed by their old-fashioned Asian principles, really deserve any sort of preservation?
In a world of moralistic convergence, in which Western-created concepts such as “democracy,” “nationalism,” and “basic freedoms,” and ironically, “free-market capitalism,” “individualism,” and “communism,” long dominated progress of modern socioeconomic, political, and cultural thoughts here in Asia, do the existence of any Asian values actually matter?
If my dog-filled weekend can illustrate anything, it would be the incredible tenacity of some traditions that people would expect to die out fastest. Even as ancestor worship, Confucianism, filial piety, and traditional attires are all given up under the incessant assault of Western materialism and individualism, somehow these foods survived.
The relatively “benign” Asian intellectual and social traditions, yet the “repulsive” culinary ones live on. It feels as if that, all over Asia, these sensationalized “weirdness,” besides our faces and languages, are the only Asian inventions that can survive against the Western onslaught.
So it is by these that we Asians have to collectively define ourselves.
The very survival of these practices shows that despite outward conformity and identification with “modern,” Western ways of thinking, Asians, underneath all that, still do stick by their own sense of moral definition. Even if the locals refuse to admit as such, the Asians, today just as in the centuries past, have their own idea of what is right and what is wrong, entirely separate from those originating in the Judeo-Christian communities.
However, the power of Western morality to market itself on the Asian continent is not to be underestimated. With their sense of philosophical superiority back by sense of socio-economic authority, the Western line of thought marches on, winning more and more young adherents even among the most conservative and traditionalist corners of Asia.
Thus, it has come for the time for Asia to unite in a concerted cultural resistance against the Western way of morality.
While this is not to suggest the complete preservation of all habits originating from Asia, it does mean that the preservation of Asian values and practices should not and must not depend upon how the West perceives them. In other words, how Asia develop herself culturally in the modern world will have to be decoupled from how the West makes of Asia and how Asians themselves make of the Western impression of Asian cultures.
In a time and age in which Western political systems have became the inevitable mainstream, and all Asian countries compete with one another under the auspices of an American-designed and dominated economic order, perhaps culture is that one thing that can still unite all Asians. If Asians can maintain their unique moral values, then perhaps our future generations can still identify Asia as more than just a diverse geographic block.
Dog-eating, whale-hunting, and insect-frying may all be shameful under the Western values. But despite all that, Asians have the moral responsibly to hold our heads up high and keep at least the principles behind those practices alive and well for the future.
It is our response to the continuing Western dominance on the cultural sphere. Asian integration into the Western political and economic systems does not necessarily mean Asian conformity to Western values and principles. We as Asians do have our unique ways of life, and we shall fight, together, as Chinese, Indians, Japanese, or Koreans, to defend those beliefs despite so-called Western moral high grounds.
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