By Neil Trent
In ancient times, when the Olympic games were as much about
religious observation as they were an athletic competition,
animal sacrifice played a central role in the festivities. The
gods of Mt. Olympus were feted with the steady flow of blood.
On the final day, no fewer than 100 cattle were slain on the
altar of Zeus, the undisputed king of the hill.
This summer the games are returning to Greece, where they
were first celebrated in 776 B.C. While no official sacrifices
are planned, many in the animal welfare community fear a
massacre is forthcoming.
Athens teems with stray dogs. Non-existent animal control
policies, a lack of shelters, and a national resistance to
keeping pets at home have allowed this problem to mushroom to
the point where an estimated half million homeless pooches roam
Greece, some 15,000 in the center of the capital alone. Now,
with the city poised to bask in the international spotlight,
these unfortunate creatures could face animal control of the
cruelest kind.
Call it poison ball. Someone in Greece has learned to play a
very nasty sport. Visitors to the national gardens came upon
the ghastly aftermath on New Year's Day 2003: scores of dogs
and cats lying dead among the lush greenery, apparent victims
of strychnine-laced balls of meat called fola ("poison
ball") in Greek. Animal advocates in Greece have documented
numerous cases of stealth massacres, including one last August
in which nearly 3,000 street animals were culled while
Athenians blithely enjoyed their traditional vacation
period.
Government officials have emphatically denied any
involvement in the indiscriminate killings, though that hasn't
stopped animal protectionists from pointing fingers in their
direction. After all, as animal advocates note, the mass
killings tend to happen on the eve of high-profile events. For
instance, the national gardens massacre occurred just as Greece
assumed the presidency of the European Union.
Death by strychnine is slow and extremely agonizing—hardly
in keeping with land that gave the world the word euthanasia,
or "good death." The ironies aren't just etymological. There is
strong objection in Greece to putting down sick animals
humanely, by such means as injections of sodium pentobarbital.
The country also has shown an aversion to commonsense spaying
and neutering programs that would help keep the population of
feral dogs and cats under control.
For years, animal welfare advocates have fought to get Greek
authorities to adopt humane policies, and many hoped the
Olympics would give their crusade an important boost. For a
fleeting moment those hopes seemed well placed.
In November, the United Kingdom-based World Society for the
Protection of Animals hosted a conference in Athens to discuss
humane solutions to the dog problem with Athens Deputy Mayor
Tonia Kanellopoulou, among others. I was at that meeting, along
with representatives of another UK animal organization, the
Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, as well
as a number of Greek groups. We felt more than a little
encouraged when officials signaled their resolve to solve the
canine conundrum.
But reality has not borne out the hopeful rhetoric of that
day. Following the gathering, the Agriculture Ministry issued a
report, proposing the creation of more shelters to warehouse
animals for longer periods of time, and little else. The report
did not address how the animals would get to the shelters or
how to keep tabs of these mom-and-pop facilities, some of which
have notorious track records of neglect and cruelty. The plan
also gave short shrift to spaying and neutering programs, and
sidestepped the thorny issue of euthanasia altogether.
So here we are just months from the start of games, and
there's no pragmatic plan for dealing with these street animals
who literally beg for scraps at sidewalk cafes or force
tourists to sidestep them on their way to the Acropolis. The
Guardian of London reports that animal protection activists
"have launched a mass evacuation campaign, transporting the
strays by plane, train, truck and bus to new homes around
Europe." Yet this mostly cosmetic approach seems to address
only the symptoms, not the underlying causes.
For their part, the Greek authorities are scrambling to do
what they can. Athens Mayor Dora Bakoyanni has reportedly
adopted two strays, and last year her office announced a
10-point plan to address the canine and cat crisis. Among other
things, the mayor's plan calls for the round up, sterilization
and adoption of stray animals. On the national level, the
government has passed a law that penalizes Greeks for
abandoning their pets to the streets.
All of these are small steps in a long journey toward a more
humane Greece. Moving forward, the Greeks should continue to
improve registration and licensing procedures, place feral
animals in approved and appropriate shelters, and implement
effective sterilization programs. We can only hope that the
next time the Olympics come to Athens, the street dog problem
will be a dismal chapter from the past.
