In an unethical equation, we have come to barter the blood of our children for the satisfaction of international organizations. We silence our voices whenever a dog tears into a child’s body, bow our heads before reports of “animal welfare,” as if humanity excludes victims who have neither fangs nor tails. Yes, we have truly lost our compass—trapped between external pressures and the absence of internal decision-making.
اضافة اعلان
The issue is no longer just barking that wakes residents at night or a familiar sight on city outskirts. We now face streets that have turned into chase arenas, children rushed to hospitals bleeding, and municipalities tossing responsibility back and forth like garbage in alleyways. This is not a temporary incident, but the eruption of a silent crisis left to rot on the sidewalks of neglect and failure.
The case of the child in Mafraq, who was mauled by stray dogs and rushed into surgery, is not an isolated incident, nor should it be treated as one. When a single governorate records 96 mauling cases in just thirty days, we are not talking about a potential risk but a bloody reality already unfolding.
Stray dogs are no longer confined to city fringes—they are now in the heart of neighborhoods, at school gates, on farm roads, among children and pedestrians.
And with every incident, we hear the same recycled justifications: limited budgets, too few employees, lack of coordination among authorities. Yet no one dares to admit the truth: we have failed.
What angers us even before it frightens us is the fact that these dogs did not emerge from nowhere or escape cages. They were bred by garbage mismanagement, slaughterhouse neglect, poultry farm indifference, and the absence of oversight—turning our environment into permanent breeding grounds.
Responsibility does not fall on municipalities alone, despite the immense burden they face, nor on a single ministry. What we need is a comprehensive national plan involving the Ministries of Environment, Agriculture, Health, Local Administration, and even Education—because children are now in the daily danger zone.
The approaches taken so far reflect obvious official confusion: some call for the return of culling as a radical solution, while others cling to “humane” measures dictated by global organizations. In the middle of this, the compass is lost.
But the fear of international criticism must never outweigh the fear for our children. No one is demanding mass extermination of dogs. Yet it is unacceptable to leave citizens facing danger alone under the banner of “animal welfare,” while lacking the infrastructure for humane and scientific handling of these animals.
To be clear, it is not my role to propose technical or detailed solutions—that is the duty of decision-makers, experts, and competent authorities with the resources and responsibility. But it is my duty, as a writer and citizen, to shed light on this escalating danger, to raise my voice when silence becomes complicity. It is my duty to write, on behalf of those who cannot scream—among them the children attacked by dogs in broad daylight, left to face their fear alone.
In the end, our reality is reaching a breaking point day after day. Citizens are exhausted from pleading with officials, from seeing images of wounded children dominate the headlines, while municipalities crumble under public pressure and officials continue playing the role of cautious spectators.
If the concerned authorities do not act today with realistic and courageous solutions, tomorrow will bring bloodier scenes and higher social and human costs. We are not asking for a miracle—we are simply asking that this file be treated with the seriousness and attention it deserves.
