South Koreans still mad about U.S. beef

Anxieties about American beef imports are causing public demonstrations almost daily in South Korea.

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buy this photo A protester walks in front of an anti-U.S. imported beef banner in Seoul, South Korea on Monday. The Korean reads: "Don't Want to Eat Mad Cow Disease Beef." Continued rallies against U.S. beef imports have humbled South Korea's new president and forced his government to delay carrying out a deal with Washington to resume imports. (AP Photo/ Lee Jin-man, FILE)

SEOUL, South Korea — Shin Hae-suk is convinced beef imports from the United States pose a potential danger to her family.

The 54-year-old housewife believes the country will send South Koreans meat at higher risk of mad cow disease. “What if my child eats dangerous beef in a restaurant?” she asked.

Shin’s views on American beef — which South Korea banned in 2003 after the first U.S. case of mad cow disease was discovered in Washington state — may seem odd to Americans, who wolf down steaks and hamburgers from domestic cattle by the millions every day.

But in Seoul, such anxieties have caused street rallies almost daily.  The demonstrations have humbled South Korea’s new president and forced his government to delay carrying out a deal with the U.S. to resume imports.

Fears have been fanned largely by a sensational television report last month and Internet chatter about the meat, which U.S. and Korean governments have repeatedly said poses no health risk. Rumors have circulated that U.S. meat packers plan to dump beef from older cows — considered at higher risk for mad cow — on the South Korean market.

A belief that the South Korean government is sacrificing safety to curry favor with Washington and President Lee Myung-bak’s perceived arrogance have also angered Koreans.

A crowd estimated by police at about 2,000 people gathered Tuesday night to denounce the beef import plan and call for the ouster of Lee — who took office in February.

Protests, occasionally reaching 10,000 people, have been for the most part peaceful, even festive, affairs characterized by singing, chanting and speeches at a popular gathering place in downtown Seoul.

Tensions, however, have risen markedly the past few days as police arrested more than 200 people after protesters spilled onto the streets. Some were even beaten by riot police during scuffles. Dozens of the detained have been released.

After protracted talks, limited imports of beef from U.S. cattle less than 30 months of age briefly hit supermarkets last year in South Korea, formerly the third-largest export market for U.S. beef. But they were soon halted when banned items such as bones and bone fragments were discovered in some shipments.

Then last month, the two countries announced just hours ahead of the start of a summit in the United States between Lee and President Bush that the issue was resolved and U.S. imports would finally resume.

Case closed? Far from it.

A popular current affairs TV program with a reputation for muckraking went on the air about 10 days later, questioning the safety of U.S. beef and claiming Koreans are more susceptible to the very rare human form of the disease, which is  believed to be caused from eating mad cow-infected beef.

South Korean medical officials who appeared at a press conference with the agriculture minister denied the claims. But days later, 10,000 people gathered for a candlelight protest and the movement was up and running.

Lee went on television last week to apologize for not having gained public understanding. The government has at least twice delayed taking the final administrative step required for imports to resume.

Suspicions the openly pro-American Lee was too eager to give in to Washington on the beef issue to help ensure passage of a bilateral free trade agreement, under fire from members of Congress in U.S. beef-producing states, have not helped.

Indeed, Lee’s image — that of a can-do former businessman that helped him win office by a landslide — has taken a hit, with his approval ratings falling sharply amid the view he has behaved arrogantly.

“Lee ruled us as if he was a CEO and his people were employees,” said Oh Se-young, a 43-year-old software company worker.

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