Dogs killed for barking in China

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http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A16274-2000Dec2.html

 

Dog Fight Bares Marks of Civil Society in China

 

By John Pomfret

Washington Post Foreign Service

Sunday , December 3, 2000 ; Page A01

 

BEIJING –– Killers are on the loose in Beijing. Their latest victims

are two Dalmatians, a German shepherd, a Pekingese, a dachshund and a

Weimaraner.

 

Since August, at least 30 dogs are believed to have died from poisoning

in neighborhoods around Beijing. The killings have sent the Chinese

capital's dog owners into a panic. Although nobody has been arrested or

charged, the culprits are believed to be residents infuriated at the

noise of barking dogs.

 

" They killed too few! " said Wen Haiyan, a 26-year-old resident of one

crowded apartment complex in Beijing where four dogs were killed last

month. " These barking beasts wake me up every day at 5 a.m.! It's

driving me crazy! "

 

The controversy illustrates some new tensions in China's fast-changing

urban society, where increasing affluence and changes in traditional

extended-family structures have prompted a boom in pet ownership. The

killings also have produced a reaction that points to the sprouts of a

civil society--citizens organizing to influence the

government--struggling to bloom in China's arid political landscape.

 

Dogs have long been associated with controversy in China. In the early

days of the Communist revolution, keeping a pet was considered

bourgeois. Leaders ordered massive dog killings in the 1950s. By the

1960s, urban China, which had been home to a large number of special

breeds of dogs, was almost canine free, except in the northeast and

southeast, where dog meat is considered a delicacy.

 

With economic reforms, pet dogs began trickling back into the cities,

mostly over the border from Russia. Today, an estimated 18 percent of

Beijing families keep pets. Almost half are dogs, giving the city at

least 170,000, according to conservative estimates.

 

But Chinese Communist leaders have never liked dogs. During the

Cultural Revolution that began in the 1960s, " capitalist roaders " were

" running

dogs. " Beijing's former mayor, Chen Xitong, once remarked that he had

been bitten by a dog as a boy, and his anti-canine campaigns were noted

for their ferocity. During his tenure, which ended in 1995 because of

corruption, Beijing's police were instructed to club the animals to

death on the spot.

 

These days, the city still has only one dog pound, behind a women's

jail in the suburb of Changping. Conditions there, according to dog

owners, are horrendous.

 

Zhang Peng, a bachelor in his thirties, is an executive on a small

newspaper in Beijing and a classic example of the city's pet owners. He

lives alone in a simple one-bedroom apartment that he bought a few

years ago in a suburb north of Beijing. Like many of his well-educated

peers, Zhang has benefited mightily from China's economic reforms. He

has money in the bank and paid $50,000 for the apartment.

 

But something was missing in Zhang's life. Years before, Zhang's

loneliness would have been softened by at least two generations of

relatives living cheek by jowl. But times are changing; more and more

single people are moving away from home.

 

" I needed a companion, " Zhang said. " So I decided to get a dog. "

 

Enter Nini, then a 40-day-old Dalmatian puppy. Zhang gave Nini love and

affection for more than a year. He nursed Nini through a pregnancy; she

gave birth to nine pups, and he found owners for all.

 

On the night of Sept. 29, Zhang took Nini for a walk in the Wanke

housing project, a middle-class collection of two-story town houses and

low-slung apartment buildings 15 miles north of Beijing. When Zhang

stopped to chat with another dog owner, the curious pooch found a piece

of meat on a lawn and gulped it down.

 

By the time the pair returned home, Nini was trembling. Five minutes

later she was dead. That night five other dogs died on Wanke's

property--all poisoned.

 

Police responded the next day. Officers identifying themselves as

forensics experts took a few carcasses and $150 from each owner, $900

in all, saying that the money was to pay for tests. Almost two months

later, no results have been returned. And no culprits have been nabbed.

 

The killings of Nini and the others, and the way police handled the

investigation, sparked outrage among dog owners in Beijing. Some took

their case to raucous Internet chat rooms to complain about the plight

of pet owners in China. Zhang wrote a formal complaint to the police

department, demanding to know what happened to his $150.

 

Others decided to hold a vigil for the dead dogs. Running the risk of

arrest--police have the legal right to break up gatherings of more than

three people--more than 100 people turned out Sept. 30 for a dog wake

at Wanke. The meeting was all the more sensitive because the next day

was

China's national day, and Chinese security services are even more

concerned than usual about protests near holidays.

 

Since 1994, Beijing has moved to limit--some would argue wipe out--dog

ownership, setting the fee for a dog license at $600 for the first year

and $250 for each annual renewal. In Beijing, that's equivalent to more

than twice the average monthly wage.

 

" It's crazy, " said Lan Zihui, 28, who works in an air transport agency

and owns a Dalmatian.

 

To escape the license fee, Lan moved to Beijing's suburbs, adding two

hours to her daily commute. " I thought I had died and gone to heaven

when I first came here, " she said. " There were people walking their

dogs. No one was screaming, 'Help, help, dog, dog.' "

 

Hundreds of people like Lan have fled central Beijing to avoid the fee;

thousands more simply refuse to pay. Only 80,000 dogs are registered in

Beijing, less than half of the estimated canine population. Each

Beijing police station has been given a quota to capture 60

unregistered dogs a year, animal rights activists say. During the

intermittent anti-dog campaigns in central Beijing, many residents

leave the city with their pooches, hiding out in nearby villages until

the coast is clear.

 

The killings sent a chill through Lan's life and encapsulated for her

the difficulties of keeping a dog in a society that is not disposed to

like animals.

 

" People still criticize me on the street for keeping a dog, " Lan said.

" They think only rich people keep dogs. One woman once said to me, 'We

have enough unemployed people, we have enough children not in school,

you shouldn't be allowed to keep a dog.' But this is my money. Anyway,

if one of our pandas coughs in a zoo, everyone says, 'Oh, how sad, he's

going to die.' But then they kill dogs like nobody's business. "

 

In a small dog shelter in a suburb west of the city, Wu Tianyu said she

is mad and is not going to take it anymore. " I'm going to sue over this

case in Wanke, " Wu, her hands rough and red from working with dogs,

declared.

 

But sue whom? The police? The housing development?

 

" That's a good question, " Wu replied. " But we need to publicize this

case. "

 

The director of the shelter, as well as a part-time veterinarian, Wu is

in the vanguard of a fledgling animal rights movement in China. She is

pushing legislators to pass a law banning cruelty to animals. She has

also led a petition drive against Beijing's dog laws and has helped to

stop the slaughter of unregistered dogs in several cities.

 

But as with many of the attempts to create a civil society in China, in

trying to force a recalcitrant government and state-run media to

change, Wu faces roadblocks.

 

" You say you were in your home when the police came and took your dog

away? You say you loved him a lot and because you lost your job he had

become really important to you? "

 

Wu was on the phone with a caller who had just lost her pooch to the

police.

 

" Well, that means that you must oppose this rule about dog licenses,

right? " The caller agreed.

 

" Well, then the next time we do a petition drive, you should sign our

petition. "

 

The caller paused before finally saying:

 

" I am worried about trouble with the police. "

 

 

 

 

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