Sharmin Sultan Joya
Bangladesh was left shaken after the heartbreaking incident in Ishwardi, where a woman drowned eight newborn puppies in a pond. The image of the mother dog crying and frantically searching for her babies spread across social media, triggering an outpouring of national grief and anger. For many, this moment was not just about animal cruelty—it became a symbol of the vulnerability of all voiceless beings living among us.
But as public empathy surged, so did a different kind of debate. Critics questioned why the nation reacts so powerfully to the suffering of animals while remaining comparatively silent when human beings—women, children, workers, students—are killed, beaten, or violated. Social media users pointed out that the same celebrities who expressed solidarity with the puppies often do not speak out when a woman is raped, when a child is beaten to death, or when a citizen loses his life over a dispute. The comparison stirred controversy, frustration, and accusations of selective moral outrage.
This debate, however, needs careful unpacking rather than quick judgment. Animal suffering is emotionally straightforward. A mother dog mourning her puppies is an image free from politics or social complexity. Her grief is pure, instinctive, universal. Defending her carries no risk of offending institutions, no fear of backlash, no entanglement in the country’s social or political tensions. Human tragedies, in contrast, are layered. They involve perpetrators with power, institutions with influence, and systems that do not always protect victims. Speaking out is often complicated—or dangerous.
That does not mean the empathy shown toward the dog is misplaced. A society that responds to animal cruelty with collective outrage is showing signs of ethical growth. Empathy for animals does not diminish empathy for humans; it can actually strengthen it. Cultures around the world that prioritize animal welfare tend to be more sensitive to violence in all forms.
The Ishwardi case also exposes the urgent need for Bangladesh to improve its laws and practices around animal welfare. Stray animals, especially dogs, live in constant risk—facing poisoning, beating, starvation, or abandonment The tragedy did not occur in isolation; it reflects gaps in awareness, community responsibility, and humane education.
Still, critics of selective outrage raise an important reminder: our compassion must widen, not narrow. While we defend the rights of animals, we must also remain vigilant and vocal against the violence inflicted on human beings. Both battles matter. Both define the soul of a society.
In truth, this moment should not divide people into camps of “animal lovers” versus “human rights advocates.” Instead, it should inspire a broader moral awakening. The grief we felt for one mother dog can be the beginning of deeper empathy—for every mother who loses a child, every worker who suffers injustice, every woman denied safety, every child deprived of dignity.
If we learn anything from Ishwardi, let it be this: cruelty in any form is unacceptable. And compassion, when exercised, grows stronger. Bangladesh has the chance now to expand that compassion—to protect the voiceless, whether they walk on two legs or four.
The writer is a Chief People Officer, GPH Ispat
