Some are calling for the intentional “reintroduction of free-ranging dogs in those places where they have been wiped out in the name of civilization.” Doing so would be a mistake.
A recent article in Psychology Today features an interview with
“free-ranging dog researcher and trainer Marco Adda.” Mr. Adda studies
community dogs in Bali. By researching “streeties,” Adda hopes “we can
exponentially expand our ‘dogness’ and ‘dog literacy’” and advocate for
their protection. These are goals I wholeheartedly embrace. But unlike Adda,
I do not idealize the life of street dogs and was taken aback by his
advocacy “for the progressive reintroduction of free-ranging dogs in those
places where they have been wiped out in the name of civilization.”
He believes that village dogs often live better lives than dogs in homes. He
also suggests that the widespread belief that the more advanced a society,
the fewer dogs we should find living on the streets is backward and
“reflects a society where humans control nature and separate from her.”
[Unlike dogs, people, and other individuals, nature is not a “she” as
“nature” has no sex, no gender, and no sentience. Nature is an “it.” As
such, nature has no rights. Nature matters only because individuals care
about or rely on nature for their health and happiness. The rights belong to
them.] Finally, he suggests a truly “civilized society” requires
“free-ranging dogs around.”
While I agree with him that we should have never rounded up and killed
community dogs in the United States, now that they are largely gone, there
is no compelling reason to intentionally reintroduce them—and many reasons
not to.
Adda’s views are part of a disturbing trend of scholars unduly romanticizing
the past by appealing to “ancient wisdom” as better, more conducive to
happiness, and more “natural.” In subservience to this golden age thinking,
they argue that modernity undermines human and animal flourishing—a claim
at odds with clear evidence of progress regarding people and dogs. In
addition to arguing that dogs should be allowed to roam freely, some authors
even call for an end to living with dogs (“pet-keeping”).
For example, University of California at Riverside Professor Katja Guenther
envisions a “utopia” by replacing cities with small village-like
neighborhoods where dogs are no longer considered “private property.”
Instead, these dogs have what she terms “intimacy without relatedness.” They
can choose to come and go by running around as free-living dogs. Guenther
and her ilk ignore that dogs (and cats) want to live with us, choose to live
with us, and should live with us, given all the benefits humans bestow upon
them, our proven potential for ongoing improvement, and our immense capacity
for love.
Through self-domestication, dogs sought out humans to maximize their chances
of survival. In doing so, they “successfully adapted to us and our ways,
seizing the opportunity that our planetary dominance presents, greatly
increasing their numbers, and extending their range beyond what was possible
in the absence of people.”
While authors like Geunther and researchers like Adda argue that the
relationship between people and dogs is one of inequality and dependence,
these claims often obscure more than they illuminate. Unlike other
relationships between humans and animals, our relationship with family dogs
is built primarily on mutual affection, not exploitation. Indeed, the
relationships are decidedly one-sided, with humans doing all the work and
dogs not expected to do anything other than grace us with the pleasure of
their company.
In a shared community of social animals—including those of different
species—varying degrees of dependency are ultimately inevitable and
inescapable. When these relationships are based on love and built for mutual
benefit, they aren’t necessarily wrong. Indeed, they are often necessary and
beneficial. For example, when we leash dogs near busy streets or prevent
them from eating a discarded piece of chocolate, our gifts of foresight and
intellect protect them from dangers they may be incapable of perceiving and
shielding themselves from. Such limits on autonomy protect and enhance their
well-being.
We also don’t have a choice as to whether we want relationships with dogs.
The only option is the kind of relationship we have. Assuming we could end
“domestication” (and we would want to), we could never end human-animal
relationships. Those relationships would inevitably re-develop as animals
continued to seek us out. How we respond to those overtures and
opportunities is up to us. We can ignore our best, most compassionate
instincts and keep our doors firmly closed — or we can obey those noble
impulses and open them.
Most people would and ought to choose the latter. Indeed, people throughout
the United States consider dogs a part of their families. Sometimes they
choose to live with dogs over having human partners and children. Arguing
that something is fundamentally wrong with doing so threatens to cut off
humans and animals from profound, meaningful, and loving relationships of
great mutual benefit.
That is my view. But which point of view do the facts support?
A literature review in Applied Animal Behaviour Science compared the
experiences of the “typical village dog” with the “typical modern suburban
or urban dog” to determine which leads to happier outcomes, healthier
results, and longer lives.
The authors found village dogs suffer from a “lack of sufficient and
adequate food” and a “lack of veterinary care.” Consequently, puppy
mortality is high (as much as 70%), and life expectancy is low (3-4 years,
on average). Tragically, they also face human hostility. Female dogs are
subject to targeted killing to prevent maternal aggression, mating, and the
birth of more puppies.
By contrast,
[T]he typical modern suburban or urban companion dog experiences good welfare in a number of respects. This is especially the case when it comes to security, satisfaction of nutritional needs (though companion dogs have problems with a high prevalence of obesity), and proper veterinary care.
Their average lifespan is north of 10 years.
Village dogs may be free to choose when and with whom to interact, but they
are also chronically hungry, suffering from treatable conditions, and have a
lifespan one-third that of homed dogs. Of course, we can do more to improve
the lives of street dogs, including veterinary care, food, and other
protection, but the most important thing we can do is find homes where they
can join a loving family.
So contrary to assumptions made by Adda, Guenther, and others, “natural” is
not better; it is objectively and demonstrably worse. There is no compelling
reason why individual animal suffering that humans can cure is preferable to
the extended lifespan and opportunity to pursue happiness when humans
provide a home. The idea that allowing avoidable suffering is somehow nobler
and more “natural” contradicts our experiences and preferences as living
beings and is incompatible with genuinely caring for dogs.
There is no basis for this view other than anthropocentric bias: a viewpoint
that sees the suffering of dogs as less important than that of humans in
similar situations. It also neglects our responsibility to reduce hardships
for other Earth creatures when we can.
Its limitations aside (and there are many), the literature review resolves
the quality of life debate between village dogs and dogs sleeping on our
beds, riding in our cars, playing in our yards, eating in our kitchens, and
vacationing with us in our hotels.
Of course, while most of us are already rising to the duties and
responsibilities inherent in that relationship, we could do better by our
companion dogs as a society, such as banning chaining, cosmetic surgery,
commercial breeding, and pound killing. But as Jennifer, my wife, and I
write in Welcome Home, our book exploring the relationship between humans
and dogs (and cats),
On behalf of children… we have banned child labor, eliminated corporal
punishment in our schools, and increased protections in other ways through
our legal system. Moreover, we have sought to find the necessary balance
between the demands we make upon them for their own good, such as education,
with their inherent needs for play and other forms of recreation. There is
no reason to assume that our relationship with dogs and cats—likewise
predicated upon love, affection, and the desire to both provide protection
and maximize well-being—cannot evolve in the same manner. In fact, there
is every reason to believe that it can.
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