How Would You Kill These Dogs? China Vs. The West

Photo: swisseduc.ch

How would you kill these dogs? This question may seem gratuitous, even cruel, but it's posed with purpose for those of us living in China. Imagine yourself in charge of a base on the Antarctic. You are told you have to abandon the base, but you cannot take the working dogs with you. This is not the edge of the Antarctic, thin ice floating on the sea, seals emerging through ice-holes; you're over the continent. The ice can be four miles thick. Temperatures can drop as low as -80°C. This is the driest place on earth – water is a rock here and rain doesn't fall. The dogs, left to themselves, would die well within a day; that is certain. Remember – certain. Turn the dogs out onto the ice cap and you're killing them as surely as if you put a gun to their heads and pulled the trigger.

Before you leave you have to make a choice: do you shoot the dogs and end it for them quickly? Or do you turn them out onto the ice cap to die a slow death from exposure?

Most of us would think the answer is obvious. Shoot. Better a fast death with a bullet than a slow, lingering, painful death from hunger, thirst and the cold. It's more humane. Right?

Well, perhaps not.

If you ask your Chinese friends this question you may be surprised at their reply. Most Chinese would choose to release the dogs onto the ice cap. You may be shocked by their cruelty in making that choice.

But they're equally shocked – perhaps more shocked - when you tell them you'd shoot the dogs. They will think you are cruel.

I stumbled upon this idea when I was in Japan. An item in a text book told the story of two bases in Antarctica that were abandoned, one American, one Japanese. The dogs had to be left behind and face certain death. The Americans shot the dogs before they left; the Japanese released the dogs onto the ice cap.

When I came to China I asked around and realised most Chinese people would do as the Japanese had done. As a teacher, I turned the idea into a lesson plan and, over several years, used it with dozens of classes with many hundreds of university and college students. The results were fairly consistent; around 80% of the students chose 'release' as the least-cruel option.

I recently discussed this with a large group of foreign friends. Around 80% of them chose to shoot. Some who chose to release, clearly found the idea of shooting the dogs uncomfortable. Is that the explanation for the Chinese decision then? Discomfort?

Certainly not. Many of my students came from the countryside and are far more used to the killing of animals than most of my foreign friends. In class discussions, it's clear their choice is based solely on ethical principles.

In making our choice, we consider the distress the dogs will suffer in experiencing a slow, lingering death. We can free them from the necessity of experiencing that misery by killing them quickly.

For most Chinese, though, this is hubris. Who are we to make such a decision on the dogs' behalf? Their lives are all they have. Every moment is precious and we do not have the right to take their final hours from them. We cannot assume for ourselves Godlike powers and decide that those final hours are too miserable to be lived. Who knows what those hours may contain? Cold, pain, misery, death ultimately, that is certain; but also the exhilaration of the struggle to survive, the scent of the air, the warmth that comes briefly in curling up with a companion in their final moments and who knows what else? Not knowing the importance or significance of this, we cannot deny the dogs those moments.

What is interesting is that some of my foreign friends who opted for release expressed their own ideas in very much these terms, just as some of my Chinese students who opted for shooting expressed their own ideas in terms very recognisable to the westerner. Nonetheless, for most, a huge cultural divide exists in considering what is best for the dogs and what constitutes the greater cruelty.

Perhaps the difference is rooted in the philosophies that underlie our cultures. Christianity tends to focus very much upon salvation; so much so indeed, that for some Christians the worship of God takes over from any other consideration about how one lives one's life. Worship Him and be saved. Fail to worship Him and be damned. At times, life seems no more than an entry examination. It may be important in achieving the goal, but it is not the goal itself.

In Buddhism, life is everything. We pass through life moment by moment into new life and decisions we make in those moments shape all that lies ahead for us through karma. Thus every moment is sacred. We cannot take from the dogs so much as one of those moments.

Moreover, Christianity gives us dominion over the animals in Genesis 1:26 - “... let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.”

Buddhism permits no such dominion. Indeed, some schools of Buddhism even forbid the eating of root crops, fearful that some creature beneath the soil may be harmed in pulling the plant from the ground.

Watching films with our Chinese friends, laughing at the same jokes, enjoying a meal together it can be easy to forget the differences that exist between our cultures and the way we think. “What is cruelty?” You may have thought the answer obvious and universal. Well, chances are, so do your Chinese friends. Your ideas, however, are likely to differ.