This is part IV of my 3-month journey in Sri Lanka, as a volunteer for WECare Worldwide.
As I sit in the recovery pen, surrounded by sleeping dogs fresh from surgery, I find myself lost in thought. These animals, unaware of the procedure they’ve just undergone, will wake up unable to reproduce. It’s a process that happens with assembly-line efficiency, raising an important question: Is this ethical?
While I lack any training in philosophy, and have no ethical framework to guide me, I had plenty of daydraming time. And the ethical implications of mass dog sterilization weigh heavily on my mind. The justification seems clear: we’re addressing a dog overpopulation crisis. Unchecked, dogs can be environmentally destructive – here in Sri Lanka, they dig up turtle eggs and transmit diseases to wildlife. From this perspective, our actions seem justified for the greater good of nature.
Yet, this rationale raises uncomfortable parallels. Humans face our own overpopulation crisis, consuming resources at an unprecedented rate. The idea of forcibly sterilizing humans would be universally condemned as unethical and illegal. Can we ever reconcile this double standard?
Others argue for non-intervention, letting nature take its course. After all, life on Earth has evolved and adapted for millions of years without our interference. Species come and go, and nature has shown remarkable resilience. However, this “hands-off” approach is flawed. Humans have already significantly altered the environment, directly affecting dog populations through urbanization and waste management. A truly “natural” scenario no longer exists.
If inaction isn’t an option, then the responsibility falls to us to shape a better world. But who decides what “better” means? Given our struggles to address climate change, reaching a consensus on improving the world seems unlikely.
Therefore, it’s more fruitful to focus back on the dogs. We can consider the “Five Freedoms” of animal welfare: freedom from hunger and thirst, freedom from discomfort, freedom from pain, injury or disease, freedom to express normal behavior, and freedom from fear and distress. Spay and neuter surgeries, while generally safe, does pose a small risk of complications. It also prevents female dogs from experiencing motherhood, which some consider a natural and important life experience.
Advocates for sterilization claim it can enhance individual dog welfare, citing potential benefits like reduced skin conditions in females and lower risks of certain cancers. However, these advantages are not universally accepted. Critics, on the other hand, argue that sterilization may actually increase cancer risks in some breeds. Regardless, the ethical question remains: Is it justifiable to surgically remove healthy organs to prevent potential future issues? This approach seems questionable when applied to humans, and it’s worth considering if the same ethical standards should apply to our canine companions.
From a broader perspective, though, it’s clearer that mass sterilization can benefit the dog population as a whole. It reduces the number of puppies born into harsh conditions, often facing early death from diseases like rabies. Fewer dogs mean fewer territorial fights and road accidents. Limited veterinary resources can devote more time to each patient. As dog numbers decrease, public perception may shift from viewing them as pests to valued companions, as seen in parts of North America and Europe where street dogs are less common. Ultimately, a smaller population could lead to better survival chances for individual dogs.
So, we are forcing each dog to join in, because a smaller population only comes as a result of universal participation.
Critics, rightfully so, argue that sterilization primarily serves irresponsible humans rather than the dogs themselves. A New York Times opinion piece pointed to Norway, where dog sterilization is illegal, yet overpopulation isn’t an issue. But drowning in the humid heat of Sri Lanka, I witness the daily cycle of puppies being born and dying, as well as three-legged dogs hobbling around after road accidents. Norway is the last place I could see right now.
This is part IV of my 3-month journey in Sri Lanka, as a volunteer for WECare Worldwide.