The death of a child in Lahore’s Sultan Colony after an attack by stray dogs was a tragedy. Pakistan’s kneejerk response of a fresh round of dog culling, however, perpetuated the same cycle of fear, outrage and failure that has shrouded it for decades with no end in sight.
In May, the Municipal Corporation Lahore (MCL) launched a large-scale campaign against the city’s stray dog population in response to the incident. As photos and videos of piled up dog carcasses reached social media, a swift public backlash followed, particularly after reports alleged the dogs were killed through cruel methods despite calls from the Lahore High Court and animal welfare advocates to pursue humane alternatives outlined in the Punjab Animal Birth Control Policy, 2021.
The controversy has since evolved into something larger than a debate over animal rights; it has become a test of whether Pakistan is willing to adopt solutions that actually work, or continue relying on measures that create the illusion of action.
Reports from activists and eyewitnesses have painted a disturbing picture. Dogs were poisoned or shot and killed indiscriminately, with carcasses dumped in open areas across the city. Beyond the obvious cruelty, such practices create public health risks of their own. Improper disposal of animal remains can attract pests, spread disease and contaminate urban environments already struggling under immense pressure.
The MCL has disputed many of these allegations. Officials have maintained dogs are being captured, vaccinated and relocated rather than exterminated. The stated goal remains reducing rabies transmission and improving public safety.
Yet the broader question remains: even if culling is carried out more humanely, does it work? The evidence suggests it does not.
Both the World Health Organization (WHO) and the World Organization for Animal Health (WOAH) have repeatedly warned that culling is an ineffective long-term strategy for managing stray dog populations. Numerous studies have demonstrated what experts call the “vacuum effect.” When large numbers of dogs are removed from an area, new animals quickly migrate in to occupy the available territory. The reduced competition for food and resources also allows surviving dogs to reproduce more successfully.
The result is predictable. Populations briefly decline, only to rebound months later, often reaching levels similar to or even higher than before. In other words, culling may provide a visible response to public anger, but it rarely provides a lasting solution.
Countries around the world have learned this lesson, sometimes the hard way. Turkiye, often cited as a model for its treatment of stray animals, has recently faced its own difficulties. In response to growing concerns about dog attacks, authorities shifted from a “neuter and release” approach toward large-scale collection and sheltering programs. Municipalities were tasked with removing millions of dogs from public spaces, backed by strict penalties for non-compliance.
The consequences have exposed the limits of even well-intentioned enforcement. Shelters have struggled with overcrowding, resources have been stretched thin, and hundreds of thousands of animals have entered facilities that were never designed to absorb such numbers. The challenge has become less about removing dogs from the streets and more about determining what happens to them afterward.
Meanwhile, countries that committed themselves to long-term Animal Birth Control programs have generally achieved better outcomes.
The formula is neither dramatic nor politically exciting: catch, sterilize, vaccinate, return and monitor. It requires patience, funding and sustained implementation. Bhutan and parts of Indonesia have recorded significant reductions in rabies transmission through such programs. The Netherlands paired population control measures with strict pet ownership regulations and now has one of the world’s lowest stray dog populations.
The common factor is consistency. These countries accepted that meaningful results would take years, not weeks.
Pakistan is not starting from scratch. The Punjab Animal Birth Control Policy, 2021 already outlines many of the necessary steps. The problem is not the absence of policy; it is the absence of commitment. Long-term strategies are repeatedly overshadowed by emergency crackdowns designed to deliver immediate and highly visible results.
Compounding the issue is a fragmented system of responsibility. Municipal corporations, livestock departments and health authorities all play a role in managing stray animals, yet no single institution bears full accountability. The result is uneven enforcement, inconsistent standards and, in many cases, reliance on outsourced capture teams whose training and oversight remain unclear.
Until that structural problem is addressed, even the best policies on paper will struggle to produce results on the ground.
Pakistan’s stray dog crisis is ultimately a governance challenge, not merely an animal control problem. The choice facing policymakers is straightforward: They can continue pursuing periodic culling campaigns that generate headlines but fail to solve the issue, or they can invest in coordinated vaccination, sterilization and monitoring programs that require patience but offer lasting results.
One path delivers the appearance of control. The other delivers actual control. The difference will determine whether Pakistan is still fighting the same battle a decade from now.