It's not the beef, it's the gravy from world trade

SEOUL, South Korea — By nine o'clock every evening, the grassy plaza in front of City Hall of this city of 10 million was ringed by police vans as hundreds of cops in blue jumpsuits stood in orderly rows in the heat of the sidewalks, waiting for the inevitable clash.

This is what happens when world trade meets the dinner table, a tableau of misinformation and strong emotions that changes the way the world shops.The issue these nights in Seoul was beef, specifically U.S. beef — and, indirectly, beef from Washington state that was found to be contaminated with the biological tombstone known as mad-cow disease.

Koreans are a beef-eating people. One Korean told me the country had been so poor for so long, eating beef at home became a status symbol. Now the Koreans, among the richest and most productive people in the world, want their beef without strings.

The protests, among the most orderly and yet the most emotional I have seen, were about a perceived sellout by the Korean government over the ban against imported U.S. beef. Korea's dominant political party is rabid over getting a free-trade agreement with the United States. So are Korean Americans here in the Seattle region, who see the links between trade and culture important to them as Americans, and important to them as businessmen and women.

But 9,000 protesters in Seoul last week and smaller demonstrations in cities all over the country show how emotional trade has become. Many protesters believe it's not the lifting of the beef ban that is at stake, but a way for the Korean government to get the U.S. to finally approve a free-trade agreement. The result is that people feel they've been sold out at their dining-room table for a larger trade deal that will make a few people rich.

"Americans don't realize Koreans eat so much more of the animal than they do," said a Seoul woman the night of the rally. By the following weekend, Korean farmers in funeral costumes paraded with the head of a cow before thousand of Koreans. On Sunday, the funereal farmers showed the two sides of trade — the loss of control over the country's health, and maybe more important, the threat to Korean farmers by imported beef.

The single downed cow that started this mess originated in Canada but was discovered in Yakima County. The Korean ban went into effect shortly after the diseased animal was discovered, and now has been lifted, Koreans believe, without adequate controls.

"I will die sooner from this than I will from bad cows," said Kang Chunsuk, editor in chief of Chosunilbo Daily, the country's largest newspaper, holding up a package of cigarettes.

The rational branch of Korean traders, politicians and intellectuals, see the beef protests as politically handy to vex an unpopular government. The idea of unsafe meat from the United States is caught up in a nest of ideas and conflicts about America that cross class lines from farmers to office workers to housewives skewering thin slices of beef. It's about a worldwide struggle with the true costs of open trade and wraps into the importance of national identity.

By a ratio of 5-to-3, the people of Washington state also say global trade has been less that good for the country, according to The Elway Poll (May 2008). The poll remarkably finds that even those connected to the trade industries of Washington are doubtful of its benefits to the economy. In short, Elway suggests, they believe globalization has not lived up to its expectations.

"I was surprised by the results," Elway said late last week. "I think there is a real shift in attitude about the benefits of trade."

In the night, the Seoul protests were sometimes drowned out in the sheer energy of this enormous city. A few blocks away, Seoul's famous nightlife was blazing away. But the impact of the nightly demonstrations could not be ignored. I estimated 60 or more police buses parked tightly front to back ringing City Hall. Each the size of a Greyhound bus, they were covered with protective steel mesh and were used by the police as dormitories and redoubts.

In Korea, young conscripts can be drafted either into the military or the national police force, so for those caught in the cop draft, the job of being a riot policeman is something new. Nineteen-year-olds stood in their heavy riot gear, waiting to push and be pushed through the night.

We'll see more of this, especially about food, about jobs and the sovereignty of what's put on the family table.

James F. Vesely's column appears Sunday on editorial pages of The Times. His e-mail address is: jvesely@seattletimes.com; for a podcast Q&A with the author, go to Opinion at www.seattletimes.com/edcetera