Taiwan’s annual ritual of releasing animals as a form of relieving suffering might just be achieving the opposite.
Walk into a bird shop and it’s not difficult to feel sympathy for the poor birds that would much rather be flying free. Those were the same feelings I experienced as I stood outside the historic Tong Siang Tng Buddhist temple along Singapore’s Devonshire Road. A rusty and brittle cage full of scruffy and dehydrated Eurasian tree sparrows lay along the sidewalk in the scorching sun, tormented by hungry stray cats. “Fast food,” the felines must be thinking.

Catch and release: A hunters demonstrates a trapping procedure for birds
A monk came to bless the birds with water. A prosperous-looking gentleman apparently purchased the birds. He believes he will earn some merits upon releasing these pathetic-looking creatures back to Mother Nature.
After the monk finished his chanting, the man lifted the door of the cage. But no birds flew out—they were probably too tired. The man tried to get through the anti-climactic moment by hitting the side of the cage, scaring the poor things out. A few too weak to fly simply hopped out of the cage and stood there. The stray cats made haste of the situation.
“Releasing Life” is a direct translation of the Chinese term fang-sheng, and specifically refers to the practice of saving beings that face imminent death.
Although Buddha did not directly teach the practice, it is a natural expression of the Buddhist tenets of benevolence and protection for all forms of life
Indeed, the first of the ten negative actions to be avoided by a Buddhist is to not intentionally take the life of any being, human or otherwise. Furthermore, theSamannaphala Sutra exalts a monk as “one who has cast aside cudgel and sword and is repelled by violence. He is moved by mercy and, living compassionately, is kind to all creatures that have life.”
Professor Govindasamy Agoramoorthy is a biologist at the Tajen University of Technology in Taiwan. He sheds light on Taiwan’s ecological disposition.
“A century ago, naturalists Robert Swinhow and Alfred Russel Wallace were impressed by the diversity of wildlife in Taiwan, a small island 36,000 square kilometers in areas, with a population of 23 million. Taiwan has grown from agricultural-backwater status to global technological giant within a few decades, with environmental disasters as a frequent by-product.
“Sika deer, which were once common, became extinct in the 1960s as a result of intensive hunting. The Formosan flying fox and clouded leopard were added to the extinction list in recent decades because of hunting and habitat destruction. Despite the existence of several protected areas, human pressure and development intensify the strain on natural habitats. To make things worse, large numbers of non-indigenous wildlife are released into nature through an annual ritual known as ‘prayer animal release’ (or PAR).”
PAR is also practised in Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Hong Kong, and Korea. But no other country holds it on as grand a scale as Taiwan. Animals are loaded and literally dumped by the container load; it fuels a multi-million-dollar industry and this single annual event is possibly the lifeblood of bird and other animal traders in the country
In a 2004 campaign, Taiwanese animal welfare groups condemned the religious practice of releasing wildlife, pointing out that people in Taiwan spent nearly $6 million annually to set free 200 million wild animals, ranging from insects to monkeys.
Taiwan’s two major religions, Taoism and Buddhism, stress the importance of doing good deeds during one’s life, and they dictate the return of wildlife to nature as one way to ensure good karma and eternal life. Thus temples sponsor religious services that feature the release of wildlife.
The market for this trade is huge, and all kinds of animals—birds, fishes, snakes, frogs, turtles, insects, monkeys—are being captured in the wild or smuggled into the island through seaports to be purchased and eventually released into rivers, mountains, forests, lakes, and reservoirs.
Prof. Agoramoorthy is concerned about the effects of this religious practice. “Religious freeing of animals has already led to invasions of non-native species. For example, we have recorded 75 species of exotic birds in the wild in Taiwan, which is potentially disastrous to the island’s delicate ecosystem.
He feels the Taiwanese government must “act quickly to educate the public about the lethal consequences of wildlife release and come up with a policy to counter the unregulated release of wildlife.”