In 1898, the world’s first International Conference on City Planning was held in New York. Despite experts gathering from around the globe, they couldn't find an answer. As industry developed and freight volumes grew, horses became absolutely essential for transportation. It was a dilemma: reducing the number of horses would bring the economy to a standstill. Roads had to be widened, more carriages built, and more space allocated to stable and feed them. Ultimately, the conference adjourned after only three days, failing to complete its scheduled ten-day run. This meeting took place following the "Great Horse Manure Crisis of 1894." At that time, New York was reportedly home to over 150,000 horses. One horse produces an average of 7 to 10 kg of manure and over 1 liter of urine daily. The hay needed to feed 150,000 horses formed mountains.
Based on this trend, Britain’s The Times issued a pessimistic forecast: "In 50 years, every street in London will be buried under nine feet of horse manure." New York was no different; people lived in fear that manure would soon rise to the third story of buildings.
In Korean, cow urine and horse manure are called usu-mabal (牛溲馬勃), a term used to describe trivial or worthless things. These wastes emit a pungent smell, attract swarms of flies, and those flies bring numerous diseases. While dried cow and horse dung can be used as fuel, they also generate methane gas, a major culprit of global warming. So, how did the world escape the worry of horse manure?
The invention of the steam engine and the internal combustion engine led to transcontinental railroads and the creation of the automobile. Measured in "horsepower"—the pulling power of a single horse—one car could produce tens or hundreds of horsepower and run tirelessly. New technology emerged and solved the world's problem with ease. When cars appeared, industries related to horses and carriages collapsed. Those employed in those fields claimed cars would steal their jobs and lead to mass unemployment, but instead, a massive number of new jobs were created in car factories, maintenance, car washes, road construction, insurance, oil refining, and gas stations.
In recent years, Artificial Intelligence has made dazzling progress. It doesn't just list search results; it answers questions skillfully—and in the form of clean reports, too. It is truly like Aladdin’s magic lamp. Having used several generative AI programs, the results still require careful verification, but they are remarkably capable. Most surprising is the translation function. Korean and English have different word orders and idioms. Yet, somehow, the AI has learned to translate satisfactorily. Suddenly, translators seem unnecessary. Simple office work is barely needed. Soon, licensed professions will be replaced as well. It has become common for AI to draft legal judgments or write newspaper articles. Since people can do it all themselves, experts and agencies are losing their footing.
Physical AI (robots) equipped with sensors and AI perform tasks instead of humans. If we produce and use many sophisticated robots, will there be any work left for humans? What should we do? Just as the disappearance of horses and carriages led to more jobs in production, driving, and maintenance, how many people will be needed to research, develop, produce, and utilize AI? Yet, even those tasks might be mostly handled by AI and robots. People worry about labor shortages due to low birth rates, but perhaps that is a needless concern. There is even talk of using people in their 50s and 60s for security or odd jobs due to a lack of soldiers. This, too, could be replaced by AI equipment and robots. What, then, will people do? Regarding translation, there are still occasional flaws, but I am highly satisfied. I shudder at the memory of spending over six months translating an 800-page e-commerce book from English while teaching. That was in the early 2000s, only about 20 years ago. I lost my eyesight, and my back, shoulders, and wrists were ruined.
Recently, however, an unexpected "war on dog poop" has broken out in New York. What happened? As the winter snow melted, the city became a field of bloated dog waste. When we think of New Yorkers, we imagine wealthy, stylish people living in the world's greatest city. Perhaps out of loneliness, they care for their pets more than their parents, but it seems they hid the poop in the snow while walking their dogs.
In the old days, our elders gave precious children humble names like Gaeddongi (dog poop), Soeddongi (cow poop), or Malddongi (horse poop). In folklore, these are called "childhood names" or "lowly names." It was a form of warding off evil—giving a child a worthless name to avoid the eyes of malevolent spirits and ensure they grew up safely. They say even dog poop is precious when you need it for medicine; if you need dog poop, head to New York! / kieejo@naver.com
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