By Ashima Sharma
The recent Supreme Court judgment directing municipal authorities to remove stray dogs from the streets of Delhi NCR has now been modified.
A three-judge bench has now ruled that municipal authorities must release dogs back into their original territories after they are sterilised, dewormed and immunised. The only exceptions are rabid or aggressive dogs.
The earlier directive by the division bench—mandating that stray dogs be removed, placed in shelters, and not released back into streets had sparked widespread controversy. Activists, politicians, and concerned citizens reacted strongly, urging the government to adopt humane and scientific solutions instead.
The ruling was quite shocking, given its sweeping severity, but it also appeared to be a knee-jerk response to the perceived threat of rabies and its transmission from infected dogs to humans.
And while much ink has been spilled on the earlier SC order, a far deeper issue, rooted within our legal system, continues to be overlooked — what makes it possible for the judges to give such harsh directives that show such little regard for the lives of the animals, while prioritising human rights and welfare?
The legal status of animals in India
The Supreme Court’s reiteration of the legal status of animals in India— first in Animal Welfare Board of India v. A. Nagaraja & Ors. (2014), and again, in Animal Welfare Board of India vs. A. Nagaraja & Ors. (2023) judgment —is instructive when read in the context of the present issue.
In both instances, the court engaged with the tension between human interests and animal welfare. While the 2014 case centered on the legality of the Jallikattu, a bull-taming sport, and its place within Tamil cultural tradition, the 2023 judgment reaffirmed a particular legal characterization of animals.
According to the 2023 judgement: “Animals are world-wide legally recognized as ‘property’ that can be possessed by humans…Right to hold on to a property which includes animals also, is now only a legal right…”
In the Jallikattu case, where public discourse largely focused on bulls, animal rights and cultural preservation, a critical yet underexamined aspect of the judgment was the court’s emphasis on animals as “legal property”.
This classification quietly justified the exploitation of bulls’ natural nervousness as prey animals — during the taming event, bulls are chased by a crowd, thus placing them in terrifying situations and subject to distressing practices.
Similarly, the directives on Delhi’s stray dogs implicitly reinforced this same legal status, legitimizing their relocation in ways that would result in unnecessary suffering.
The premise that stray dogs could be removed from their familiar surroundings and transported to “far-off places,” even at the cost of their well-being, was made tenable only because they are deemed the ‘property’ of the state.
We seem to accept this classification of animals as ‘property’ with little scrutiny or resistance. It is precisely this problematic legal fiction that continues to shape—and often distort—judicial approaches to animal welfare in India.
We are legal persons, animals our legal property
In legal terms, every entity is classified as either a legal person or legal property. A legal person is considered the “subject of rights”, meaning they can hold and exercise rights under the law. Humans, as natural persons, are legal persons, as are companies, certain religious idols and scriptures that have been granted legal personhood in India.
In contrast, a legal property is seen as the “object of rights”, over which legal persons can assert their rights. In India—as in many other legal systems around the world—animals remain categorised as property, subject to human ownership and control.
Perhaps this is why pet guardians are referred to as “owners” rather than friends, family or companions. The notion that animals are comparable to lifeless objects renders them especially susceptible to indifference and objectification, as is evident in the case involving Delhi’s stray dogs.
This classification also allows for their interests to be overridden in favour of human interests, often without any genuine effort to strike a balance between the two.
Outdated animal protection laws and poor enforcement further exacerbate the consequences of this legal framework. For example, the ineffective implementation of the Animal Birth Control Rules, 2023 highlights how animals are first ignored, and then penalised for failures rooted in human negligence, through decisions such as the recent SC directives.
The outdated legal designation of ‘property’ strips an entity of their subjectivity, as well as their basic rights,while also opening doors to a host of systemic injustices—not just for animals, but for any being trapped within this status.
Persons or property?
In 2020, the People’s Charioteer Organisation in India filed a public interest litigation in the Supreme Court, seeking recognition of the entire animal kingdom as ‘legal persons’.
The petition which had highlighted the dismal state of animal welfare in India, marked by insufficient regulation, poor data on animal cruelty and other systemic failures was dismissed in 2023 as the judges observed that the prospect of granting legal personhood to animals in India to be a “bleak possibility”. This was likely due to the implication that animals, if accepted as legal persons, would then possess rights that could compete directly and equally with those of humans under existing legal frameworks.
While the Punjab and Haryana High Court and the Uttarakhand High Court have taken more progressive stances in the past — removing animals from property status and recognizing them as legal persons—a nationwide order on similar lines now appears unlikely.
So, should animals remain shackled to their current legal identity? The answer may lie in advocating for a middle ground—an intermediary space between personhood and property.
In several jurisdictions, animals are neither legal persons nor mere property. For instance, Austria’s Civil Code explicitly states that “animals are not things; they are protected by special laws”, while the Animal Welfare Act of Switzerland acknowledges animal sentience and protects concepts like animal dignity and well-being.
In 2022, the United Kingdom passed the Animal Welfare (Sentience) Act, officially recognising its animals as sentient beings. This is an important source of inspiration for India, where the lingering colonial-era view continues to reduce animals to property.
This middle path of accepting animals as living, sentient beings, though not full legal persons, is a more acceptable solution to the ‘legal property’ conundrum surrounding animals. It highlights that animals, like humans, are living beings too, but is unlikely to trigger massive legal and social upheaval as it does not demand an equal status for animals in the anthropocentric society that we live in.
It also fosters hope for a more equitable consideration of animal interests, especially in matters of human-animal conflict.
Moreover, language shapes our perception. When a society continues to frame animals as possessions rather than sentient beings, it is little wonder that many—especially those indifferent to animal welfare—remain devoid of empathy.
While the Supreme Court’s Directions have now been modified to be more humane and considerate of animal rights, this shift does not ensure that similar humane considerations will be applied in future cases involving conflicts between humans and animals. What is needed is an updated legal framework that recognizes animals not merely as property, but as sentient beings deserving of inherent protection—beyond the changing tides of society and the biases of the judiciary.
Ashima Sharma is Assistant Professor, BML Munjal University, Haryana, and doctoral candidate (Animal Rights and Law), O P Jindal Global University.
Originally published under Creative Commons by 360info™.
