Recently, shocking statistics in a media report prompted the Supreme Court of India to take suo moto cognisance of the stray dog ‘menace’. Relying on this ‘disturbing’ data, the Court registered a writ petition, issued notice to the NCT government and MCD, and appointed an amicus curiae. On August 11, the Court ordered the immediate rounding up of nearly 10 lakh stray dogs in the national capital region (NCR) into shelters. Though couched in the language of humane treatment, the absence of the resources required for such endeavour makes its workability questionable. Thereafter, the petition was placed before a larger three-judge bench on August 14, due to an apparent conflict with existing precedent. While judgment on stay over the August 11 order is reserved, the issues merit deeper consideration.
Stray dogs (Unsplash)
The figures cited from a newspaper report in the July 28 order (2,000 dog bites in Delhi per day, i.e., 60,000 per month) are at variance with the official data cited in the August 11 order, showing only 3,196 bites in January 2025, around 2,000 per month in 2024, 1,500 in 2023, and under 500 in 2022. Thus, the data prompting the Court’s action seems to be 30-times higher than official numbers. Even before the larger bench, the Solicitor General relied on another newspaper report and a WHO model projecting 18,000 rabies deaths annually, ignoring India’s official figure of 54 deaths in 2024.
Questionable statistics notwithstanding, no critic denies the existence of dog bites or overpopulation, nor suggests that the streets are where dogs belong. The real question is: How does the law already address this issue, and why has its implementation failed?
India has a legal framework: The Animal Birth Control (ABC) Rules, 2023 which mandate a Capture-Neuter-Vaccinate-Release (CNVR) programme for population control, and make relocation or permanent institutionalisation of stray dogs impermissible. Yet, the legal advisor to the Union of India discredited these Rules as offering “no solution”, which is baffling since the Centre itself enacted them. The amicus went further, suggesting that stray dogs’ very presence infringes the fundamental rights of citizens. However, the Court’s order does not engage with the validity of the ABC Rules, perhaps because no constitutional challenge was raised. Instead, by implication, the order seemingly rewrites them. One thus fears whether the widely reported oral observations like ‘for the time being forget about the rules’, though not officially recorded, appear reflected in the outcome of the order. Thus, without the Centre exercising its power to amend the Rules, or the Court exercising power to strike down the Rules, the Order ostensibly brings in a policy change and inadvertently creates a parallel regime for Delhi NCR, while contradictory provisions of the ABC Rules continue to operate in Delhi and across India. Other jurisdictions keen to follow similar suit, are thus faced with conflicting legal regimes to operate within.
If existing law already governs the matter, why has it failed? Though government and MCD remained conspicuously silent on this, the Court acknowledged systemic failure. Normally, this would invite stern, time-bound directions to enforce the Rules. However, the Court directed removal of all stray dogs to shelters (many of which are still to be constructed). Experts additionally doubt the workability of this order, given the enormous cost. Ironically, the same authorities who failed at sterilisation are now entrusted with greater responsibility of permanent institutionalisation. The obvious question arises: Would it not have been more prudent to direct them to achieve 100% sterilisation instead, and guaranteeing a population control in the immediate future, in a humane manner?
Besides existing law, the order also risks being at variance with previous binding rulings, including the Supreme Court’s decision in AWBI v. PEST (2024), where the Court prohibited indiscriminate culling and mandated adherence to the existing legislation (i.e. ABC Rules). By not referencing this judgment, the Order seemingly conflicts with it, as also the Constitution Bench ruling that if a bench disagrees with precedent, it must refer the matter to a larger bench. Moreover, AWBI v. PEST had indicated that conflicts between ABC Rules and local laws are best handled by high courts aware of local issues. Indeed, the Delhi High Court was already seized of the issue in Pratima Devi v. MCD, with a collaborative stakeholder process underway to evolve a policy. Not only did counsel before the Supreme Court fail to apprise the bench of this, they also failed to mention that the MCD itself had recently told the High Court that sterilisation under the ABC Rules was the only viable solution. Domain expertise, had it been presented, may have prevented such contradictions.
Most troubling perhaps was the Court’s refusal to hear animal welfare organisations, rejecting their interventions en masse during the August 11 hearing. Though the written order records that they would be heard later, the very same order has proceeds to issue interim directions adverse to their interests, without hearing them. Incidentally, the amicus’ suggestion of adoption of strays (initially rejected by the Court) found its way into the final order, ostensibly because welfare groups pointed out that abandonment is a criminal offence and would prevent sham adoptions. This small example reveals how vital stakeholder participation is.
The rise in stray dogs and dog bites is undeniably concerning. But judicial intervention, even with best of intentions, must rest on verified facts, statutory consistency, and inclusive participation. By relying on questionable data, not addressing the ABC Rules or established precedent, or domain expertise, the August 11 order risks setting a dangerous precedent: Where headlines, not law or evidence, shape policy.
This article is authored by Kanak Bose, Supreme Court advocate, New Delhi.
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