A couple of mosquitoes are buzzing around me. I carefully target my palm so as to cover one completely and go – thud! Then, I go for another one. I clasp both my hands and thud! The enemies are down for now, before their next attack begins.
“I ‘killed’ it”, I repeat to myself. The word ‘killed’ is what’s bothering me. Surely, it can’t be ethical to kill anyone, or can it sometimes? Is it okay to kill someone too weak in comparative power dynamics or too small? Can the presence of a higher purpose serve as a justification for killing someone? Does the same logic apply when killing is mandated as per society or as per law, not individual discretion? If the opponent is only hurting me a little, is it proportionate action to just kill it?
A singular act of killing a mosquito, opened up a Pandora’s Box for self-reflection.
Ethics are rules of conduct that are decided and enforced by and to the community or social system at large. On the other hand, morals are principles that act as an individual compass of right or wrong action.
When the mosquitoes cause a disturbance at a much larger level, giving rise to epidemics, like widespread dengue or chikungunya, surely the government would be right to spray mosquito repellants. So, on the ethical front, perhaps there lies a justification in the consequentialist’s theory of Utilitarianism (best expressed by Bentham) which says – greatest happiness of the greatest numbers. But the question of morality still persists.
Now, killing a mosquito doesn’t sound like a big deal. But, why is the life of a mosquito insignificant? Just because it is small in size? If that were true, all beings bigger than us, would then be justified in killing us. Surely, size can’t be the only determinant.
Is it then, the purpose one serves or the lack of any purpose at all, that may justify the killing? Mosquitoes are vital for the health of our ecosystem. Not only do they help in pollination, but their larvae also break down important organic matter in stagnant water bodies, including ponds and marshes. They are important to the food chain and for biodiversity, at large. Nature has designed female mosquitoes in a way that they need a ‘blood meal’ to produce eggs.
But is the act of killing a mosquito wrong because I killed a mosquito or because I killed?
The Buddhist tradition, which has seeds of deontological ethics, requires us to consider the rightness or the wrongness of the act based on the character of the behaviour rather than the outcome. This is why the Buddhist precepts require non-violence and non-killing, even of insects since they are seen as beings capable of feeling. This is why Jains use strainers when drinking water, to avoid killing insects. Some religions provide for a hierarchy of the forms of existence, depending on the number of senses they have – for example, worms (two senses), ants (three) and flies (four) and consequently, killing them may lead to differing values of negative karma.
Maybe I could have endured a few more bites. Wasn’t my action opposed to the principle of proportionality? I could be said to act in self-defence but self-defence from irritation? There was no imminent threat to my life from the mosquitoes. Besides, they probably didn’t mean to irritate me.
So I killed them because I could, I tell myself. Is that a good reason to kill?
Do I treat someone as less than equal, just because I can? Think of how we treat people who serve us at the restaurant or those who work at our homes, or those who keep our roads, our cities clean – those who pick the garbage, clean the drains with their hands. They have no power in the social hierarchy and I won’t suffer any consequences by treating them badly.
So can power justify violence? Can governments put individuals behind bars for years, just because their thoughts or writings or work irritate those in power, just because they can?
How much violence is justified, against whom, by whom and in what proportion?
The importance of India’s Constitution is worthless unless there is a social revolution , where we challenge underlying values, re-adjust the definitions of power, and make it our religion to question. Otherwise, we are doomed to live an unreflective, unconscious life – both as individuals and as a nation.
This “me, my, mine” attitude is emblematic of a larger malice that our society suffers from. We need to imbibe a collective consciousness in our thinking and our actions.
Rachel Carson once wrote in The Silent Spring, “In nature, nothing exists alone”. That’s one lesson the incumbent government needs to remember, as they take on the constitutional mandate of governing ‘we, the people’.
The writer is a lawyer
