tigers. From where they crouch on the sidewalk, a stone’s throw from the
central train station, it is a thirty-minute bus ride to the Harbin Tiger
Park. Jammed between an army base, a housing estate, and a railroad line,
this euphemistically termed “breeding and rehabilitation center” is one of
a dozen or so privately owned factory farms dressed up as theme parks in
which tigers are kept and bred like so much livestock. The stated goal of
the Harbin Tiger Park is to release these animals into the wild, but one
only needs to see these cats’ ineptitude when presented with a live cow to
understand that this is impossible. There is virtually no doubt that,
eventually, these animals will find their way into the wide variety of folk
remedies still sold by many Chinese apothecaries. Whether or not to
legalize the breeding of tigers for this purpose is a matter of acrimonious
debate. The general feeling among conservationists and those
knowledgeable about the industry is that if it is legitimized, the killing of
tigers will also be legitimized and products made from “wild” (poached)
tigers will become even more highly prized. Furthermore, distinguishing
between farmed and wild tigers would be next to impossible.
The trade in tiger-based products has been officially banned in China
since 1993, but it is lackadaisically enforced, and blatant evidence of this
greets every visitor to the Harbin Tiger Park: in the center of the ticket
lobby stands a huge glass vat filled with “tiger wine.” Immersed in this
transparent liquid like a piece of provocative modern art is the full
skeleton of a tiger, shreds of flesh still hanging from the bone. Around its
feet are strewn more bones from other tigers. Visitors may have some of
this morbid elixir decanted for 1,000 yuan (about $140) per liter. It is in
the presence of things like this that one can better appreciate Far Eastern
Russians’ anxiety and confusion—the feeling that they are perched
precariously on the rim of an alien world.
But as easy and tempting as it is to vilify the trade in tiger-based
products, it has a long and honored history in Asia. As the Plains Indians
were reputed to have used every part of the buffalo, so, in Asia, is there a
use for every part of the tiger. Even the scat was used to treat gastric
ailments, and Korean mandarins especially prized robes made with the
skins of unborn cubs. This may seem repugnant, but in every culture, the
ron
(Ron)
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