A Reflection on "The Chinese Dog" and Beyond

Rethinking Animal Ethics

In painting The Chinese Dog, my intention was to create a visual manifesto, a bold artistic statement against the suffering inflicted upon animals in events such as the Yulin Dog Meat Festival. I channeled my emotions into a vivid, chaotic composition meant to provoke empathy and reflection. Yet, as I step back and reconsider the broader implications of my critique, I am confronted by a troubling paradox, one that challenges my own position as both an artist and a human being who consumes meat.

Antonino La Vela - The Chinese Dog

The Dissonance of Selective Outrage

Why did I feel so compelled to denounce the Yulin Dog Meat Festival? What was it about the suffering of these dogs that stirred such visceral reactions, while I, like billions of others, continue to accept, normalize, and even celebrate the consumption of other animals? In questioning the morality of one cultural practice, I inadvertently upheld another: the Western ideal that some animals deserve protection while others do not.

Would it not be hypocritical of me to critique the consumption of dogs in China while living in a society where beef, pork, and fish form the very foundation of traditional cuisine? If I were to uphold the belief that eating dogs is inherently cruel, then should I not extend that same principle to cows, pigs, chickens, and fish? And if I do not, then I must ask myself: do some animals inherently deserve more dignity than others? Or are these moral hierarchies simply cultural constructs, shaped by geography, tradition, and personal bias?

The Universality of Animal Exploitation

The harsh truth is that every day, across the world, there is a festival of suffering. The Yulin Dog Meat Festival may provoke horror in many, but what of the mass slaughterhouses that operate year-round, hidden from view? What of the cows, bred and slaughtered to maintain global demand for beef? What of the billions of chickens crammed into cages, living short and painful lives before their inevitable end? What of the fish, hauled out of the ocean in quantities so vast that we have stripped entire ecosystems bare?

If we are to condemn Yulin, then must we not also condemn the industrial farming of pigs in the United States? The foie gras industry in France? The ritual slaughter of animals in countless religious traditions? How do we determine which suffering is unacceptable and which suffering is simply the price of human sustenance?

The Paradox of Octopus Love

Another of my paintings, Octopus Love, was inspired by my admiration for the beauty of Mediterranean octopus mating. I lamented the decline of octopuses due to the warming of the Mediterranean and overfishing, but did that stop me from eating octopus? Here again, I am forced to confront the contradictions in my actions. I marvel at the elegance of nature while simultaneously participating in its destruction.

Antonino La Vela - Octopus Love

If I truly appreciated the beauty of these creatures, should I not have reconsidered my own dietary habits? Or do I simply compartmentalize my admiration and my consumption, allowing myself to experience both wonder and complicity in equal measure?

The Democratic Fallacy: Do Animals Have Rights?

In questioning the ethics of animal consumption, we are inevitably drawn into the larger philosophical debate: can animals possess rights in the same way that humans do? Many argue that animals, lacking the capacity for rational thought and moral reasoning, cannot be granted the same ethical consideration as humans. Yet history teaches us that these very same arguments were once used to justify the subjugation of people.

And what about the ways in which we deny our beloved pets the very experiences that bring us joy? We neuter them, removing not only their ability to reproduce but also a fundamental source of pleasure and fulfillment. We justify it as a measure of control, of responsibility—but what if we viewed this act from a different lens? How much of what we do to animals is genuinely for their welfare, and how much is about shaping them into compliant, convenient companions?

The transatlantic slave trade was built on the belief that Black people were somehow "lesser"—that they were closer to animals than to humans, and therefore could be exploited without moral consequence. Today, such beliefs are rightfully condemned as abhorrent. But if we now recognize that all humans, regardless of race or nationality, possess intrinsic worth, then must we not also extend that consideration beyond our own species?

And if we do not, then what truly separates us from the oppressors of the past? Is our moral compass guided by justice, or merely by the limits of our own comfort zones?

Are Animals Merely Servants to Humanity?

Are all animals, in some way, at the service of humans? If someone argues that nature follows the law of the jungle, then we must accept that man is no longer truly Sapiens, no longer a rational being, but merely another animal that has manipulated the system to ensure its own dominance. But in the wild, prey have a chance to escape. In the human world, we have created a game where only humans can win.

This extends beyond animals and into human systems of power. If we examine the structures that govern the world, we see a similar imbalance: the 1% of humanity who control 90% of the world's wealth have crafted a society where they alone dictate the rules. The possibility of creating an equitable world—a true paradise on Earth—is constantly undermined by the greed of those at the top. If fairness does not even exist among humans, how can we ever hope to apply it to the creatures beneath us?

The Role of Power and the Influence of Industry

The global meat industry is not merely a reflection of human dietary preferences; it is a multi-billion-dollar machine, carefully maintained by corporate and political interests. Nations pass laws not to protect animals from suffering but to protect industries from disruption. In my own country, Italy, a law was recently passed to prevent the development and commercialization of lab-grown meat, an innovation that could have reduced, if not eliminated, the need for slaughter.

This is not about ethics; this is about control. Governments and corporate entities manipulate the discourse, ensuring that humane alternatives remain inaccessible, expensive, or outright illegal. We are conditioned to believe that our consumption choices are personal when, in reality, they are deeply political.

A Call for Consistency, Not Hypocrisy

I do not write this to absolve myself of responsibility, nor to suggest that we should remain silent in the face of injustice. But I do believe that if we are to speak against cruelty, we must do so with integrity. We must recognize that suffering is not defined by species, nor by geography. A dog in Yulin, a cow in Texas, an octopus in the Mediterranean, all experience pain, all deserve consideration.

To those who, like me, have found themselves angered by the Yulin Dog Meat Festival, I pose this challenge: Let us not simply direct our outrage at the unfamiliar. Let us turn our gaze inward, confront the suffering within our own communities, and acknowledge our own complicity. Only then can we begin to create a world where ethics are not dictated by convenience, but by a genuine commitment to justice, for all beings, human and non-human alike.

This is not a call to immediate veganism, nor is it a demand that traditions be erased overnight. Rather, it is an invitation to think critically, to question the structures that shape our moral views, and to consider whether our choices truly align with the values we claim to hold. It is a reminder that change does not begin with condemnation, it begins with reflection, empathy, and the willingness to challenge even our most deeply held beliefs.