by STEVEN BOROWIEC
The tragic death of a migrant farm worker has led to self-reflection in South Korean agriculture. But can technology free farmers from their dependence on imported labor?
To enter Yeo Chan-dong’s farm, workers must put on a white lab coat and cap and then pass through an air shower. Inside, shelves of green vegetables are in various stages of growth, under blue and red LED lights that combine to give the space a purple glow. On a wall near the entrance is a screen that states the room’s temperature (24.3), humidity (78.5%), CO2 level (701 ppm), as well as the pH and nutrient solution levels.
The plants grow in water, not soil, meaning that there is no dirt to sully the space’s gleaming surfaces. They absorb water through their roots, so they don’t need to be sprayed. Because the farm is indoors and sealed off from insects, no pesticides are used, meaning visitors can pluck and eat the greens right off the plant. The lettuce is crisp, with a slightly buttery flavor.
Fifty-one kilograms of greens come out of this operation per day, ending up in salads, sandwiches, and smoothies. Yeo, who wears black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, with spotless eyeglasses and neatly combed hair, claims that this farm, a space smaller than 400 square meters, can produce 40 times more than conventional agricultural land.
Located in Sangdo Station on Seoul’s subway system, the farm is the first one out of five in the city’s metro stations, the result of cooperation between the city government and Farm8, a private company that develops smart farm technology and sells the produce. Amid rising interest in smart farming, Farm8 brought in $47.8 million (54 billion South Korean won) in 2020, up from $7.4 million in 2010.
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