The greatest sin is to think yourself weak.
Swami VIVEKANANDA

When asked how I, as a Hindu, can defend the taking of animal life for medical research, I often feel cornered, not from doubt, but from inadequacy. I am no pundit. Not even by the most charitable measure could I claim deep knowledge of Hindu theophilosophy. I am simply a flawed practitioner of this way.

This question hits harder when it comes from an American friend who follows one of the great Semitic faiths, Judaism, Christianity, or Islam, and whose idea of Hinduism may be mostly derived from made-for-TV mysticism, right before the next commercial break. In moments like these, I envy the British rule that polite company avoids religion, politics, and money. Alas, British restraint isn’t in my karmic chart, at least not in this lifetime. And dodging questions? Hopeless. Especially with Americans, who can be as relentless as Hanuman flying to Lanka, undaunted by mountain or mirage.

Give me points for the diversion attempt. I pivot, usually toward the scientific, medical, and ethical arguments for terminal animal research, many of which I’ve laid out in recent l’express columns. I tug them into my passionate case for amending the 2017 Mauritius Animal Welfare Act (MAWAA), not just for national progress, but to position Mauritius as a serious contributor to global medical science.

But my American friend?
Unflinching. Unmoved.

“C’mon, Shiv! Stop stalling. How can you, as a Hindu, support animal research? Assume I know nothing about your faith. And keep it short. We don’t have all day.”

Ouch. Straight to the jugular.
“Alright, alright…” I mutter.
There’s no dodging this one.

First, a reality check for the uninitiated: Hinduism isn’t one religion, it’s a choir of clashing, coexisting truths. Insiders call it a pluralistic tradition. My friend, ever skeptical, squints.

“Pluralistic? So basically, you all make it up as you go? No commandments, no rulebook?”
Yes and No.
Since its emergence in the Indo-Gangetic plains over 5,000 years ago (older, as held in certain cosmological traditions), Hinduism has grown like a braided river, its currents diverging, converging, yet drawing from a shared spiritual aquifer. Unlike traditions anchored in a single prophet or revelation, Hinduism gathers its force across time and space, layering practices and insights as its tributaries flow.
My friend raises an eyebrow and says, “Honestly, I just can’t wrap my head around a religion without a prophet, a revelation, or at least a newsletter. And aren’t you dodging my real question? How can you, a Hindu who’s supposed to revere all life, support animal experiments?”

I smile, caught.

“Fair,” I say. “But before we get back to lab rats, let me try to explain this ‘shared water table’ business.”

To address my support for animal research, allow me to refer to the three hree recurring insights from the Hindu tradition relevant to the question.

First: Most Hindus, if not all, uphold belief in Brahman, the Ultimate Reality, formless, eternal, and the wellspring of all existence. Brahman isn’t outside creation but pulses through it: in the human, the monkey, the cockroach, the rat, the mouse, and the fish. This metaphysical unity shapes the Hindu reverence for life, not as a hierarchy, but as a tapestry of forms, each woven from the same divine thread.

The next pillar is Dharma, not easily captured in English, but often rendered as ‘that which upholds’ or sustains order, duty, and meaning. It isn’t a fixed rulebook but a fluid, context-driven compass. Dharma calls us not merely to avoid harm, but to act with awareness and accountability for the greater good. Within this frame, medical research involving animals, when sincerely aimed at relieving suffering, curing disease, or preventing death, may align with Lokasangrahadharma: action undertaken for the welfare of society.

Hindu thought emphasizes intention (bhava) and method (upaya) in determining righteousness. Harm born of greed, vanity, or cruelty is adharma (unrighteousness). But harm approached with reluctance, discernment, and compassion, especially in service of a greater good, is not inherently sinful. In this light, animal experimentation that is transparent, scientifically justified, minimally harmful, and carried out with reverence can align with dharmic ethics.

Finally, where does this leave us, with our own morality and responsibility? For that, we turn to another foundational Hindu concept: karma, not as fate, but as moral causation. Every thought, intention, and action carries weight, shaping both the world and the self. Karma demands awareness, not detachment. It asks not just what we do, but why and how. Was our motive compassion or convenience? Did we act with humility or entitlement? Karma insists that integrity matters, particularly within complex systems. It reminds us: we are not passengers in this world, but co-creators. There is no ethical autopilot. To engage with karma is to act with care, balancing necessity with compassion, science with stewardship. That is the weight, and grace, of dharmic responsibility. My friend chuckles. “Okay, I think I get your point, though it’s denser than a box of Diwali sweets. But aren’t all Hindus supposed to be vegetarians who wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless it landed in their dal? And why are Mauritian Hindus supposedly unsure over terminal experiments on lab animals?”

I look her square in the eye.

“What rock do you live under? Didn’t you polish off my chicken tikka last week, fly-free, I might add?”
According to the Pew Research Center, 80% of Hindus eat meat. In other words, most Hindus are comfortable taking animal life for nourishment. On a recent visit to Mauritius, nearly every Hindu I spoke with was puzzled: “Why are we even debating the ethical use of lab animals for medical research, especially if it could save lives? Isn’t it obvious we should amend MAWAA to allow terminal provisions, like India already does?” Even the few absolutists who objected acknowledged the medical need and hoped for quicker alternatives rather than outright bans.

“This makes sense now. Thanks for walking me through it,” says my friend, nodding.
“Mauritius really should embrace medical research, even the terminal kind, if it’s done ethically.”
Then, with a grin: “And next time, let’s do lunch. Something vegetarian. Malai kofta, maybe?”

If Hinduism teaches us anything, it’s that the world is rarely binary. It is a dance of suffering and salvation, shadow and light, sacrificed lab monkeys for medical research and revered Hanuman. In that spirit, I say: let us proceed with MAWAA, not with arrogance, but with discernment, compassion, and courage.

Dr. Shivraj Sohur

Eight-in-ten Indians limit meat in their diets, and four-in-ten consider themselves vegetarian