Animal Welfare Bill: A dog’s breakfast?

 The most glaring flaw in the Bill lies in its expansive definition of the term “animal”. Section 48 defines an animal as “any living being other than a human being and includes... aquatic animals”. In plain language, “animal” includes all seafood: fish, prawns, crabs, and cuttlefish 

The long-awaited Animal Welfare Bill, 20 years in the making, represents a long overdue attempt to modernise Sri Lanka’s animal protection framework and replace the obsolete Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Ordinance of 1907. While its stated goals of fostering compassion, preventing cruelty, and establishing a statutory duty of care are commendable, the draft legislation presented by the government amounts to a litany of fatal defects, conflicts of interest, and unintended consequences.

Sorry Sir, no seafood

The most glaring flaw in the Bill lies in its expansive definition of the term “animal”. Section 48 defines an animal as “any living being other than a human being and includes... aquatic animals”. In plain language, “animal” includes all seafood: fish, prawns, crabs, and cuttlefish.

Unlike mammal slaughter, commercial fisheries and aquaculture are not protected by the legal exclusions in Section 19 of the Bill, which exempts food slaughter performed under the Butchers’ Ordinance. However, the Butchers’ Ordinance applies exclusively to livestock (cattle, buffaloes, sheep, goats, and swine); it does not regulate fisheries, whether inland or marine. While Section 19(f) of the Bill allows animal usage for agricultural or cultural purposes, it does so only on the strict condition that it is performed “without any harm being caused to such animal”. 

Commercial capture fisheries, by definition, inflict physical injury and death by asphyxiation, rendering this exemption legally inapplicable. Therefore, the bill effectively outlaws the entire fisheries industry.

What is more, Section 17(1)(a) explicitly bans any “recreational sport involving injury to or destruction of the lives of animals”. Because sport fishing inherently inflicts physical trauma on fish, recreational angling is effectively criminalised. Anyone engaging in fishing, whether a commercial fisherman or a weekend recreational angler, faces a fine of up to Rs. 500,000 and up to three years’ imprisonment. Our already overcrowded prisons will have to find toom for the nation’s 250,000 fishermen.

Poultry paradox

If you plan to switch your diet from fish to chicken, you are out of luck there, too. Birds fall squarely under the Bill’s definition of “animal”. Section 19(c) exempts “the slaughter of animals for food consumption performed under the provisions of the Butchers’ Ordinance and any other written law on slaughter of animals”. But because the Butchers’ Ordinance regulates only mammals, it does not apply to poultry.

Given that Sections 4(1)(a) and 5 of the Bill criminalise causing unnecessary pain or killing an animal in a cruel manner, chicken farmers and abattoir operators are set to join the criminal classes overnight. It is difficult, after all, to conceive of a method of mass-slaughtering poultry that a court would deem to be free of pain or distress.

Paw patrol

Section 25 mandates annual licencing for pet shops and “breeding centres”, a definition that includes private residences. Crucial welfare metrics, such as maximum breeding frequencies and spatial requirements, are left completely undefined. Nor is there a requirement that pups be a minimum age (usually 8 weeks in other countries) and microchipped before being offered for sale.

Section 25(1) of the Bill states that no person may maintain a pet shop or breeding centre without a licence from their local authority. Section 29(3) then defines a “pet shop” as any premises where a person carries on the business of selling animals as pets, “including a private dwelling.” In short, to sell a litter of home-bred puppies, a citizen must obtain a Local Authority Breeding Licence under Section 25. To apply, one must first secure prior written approval from the area Government Veterinary Surgeon. Once granted, the licence remains valid for just 12 months before the entire administrative chain begins anew. 

If a dog were unintentionally to become pregnant, the owner has at most eight weeks to get the paperwork done. We all know how Government works, and that simply is not long enough to jump the necessary hurdles. The result? People may simply fling puppies onto the street or into the nearest canal. 

And it gets crazier. Under the Bill, even  a kid breeding and selling guppies, even out of a home aquarium or backyard tank, must be formally registered and licenced. Or face hefty fines and prison time.

 Despite two decades of deliberation, the Animal Welfare Bill is a mess. Back to the drawing board, please

Pachyderm parades

Much public debate has focused on the Bill’s impact on perahera elephants, with concerns that anti-cruelty provisions could disrupt centuries-old traditions. Here, the Bill attempts a middle ground by favouring regulation over prohibition. Section 19(f) explicitly permits the use of animals for traditional purposes, provided it occurs “without any harm being caused to such animal”. However, terms like “unnecessary pain” and “without harm” leave little room for judicial leniency. Common handling practices such as chaining, tethering, and guiding with a ‘hendu’ (i.e., an ankus), can easily be interpreted under the law as acts that inflict physical harm.

Enforcement overreach

The Bill’s administrative architecture introduces multiple contradictions. Under Section 3, overall administration is assigned to the Director General of Animal Production and Health (DAPH). However, DAPH’s primary mandate is maximising industrial livestock yield. Assigning animal welfare enforcement across strays, pets, and wildlife to an agency tasked with industrial production is an obvious conflict of interest—akin to placing child welfare under the Department of Prisons.

There is also the problem of unbalanced representation. The Animal Welfare Advisory Committee (Section 30) overwhelmingly favours bureaucrats and livestock industry representatives. Registered animal welfare organisations are allocated just 5 out of more than 20 seats.

What is more, Section 48 restricts Animal Welfare Officers strictly to Government Veterinary Surgeons. Clinical veterinarians are ill-equipped and under-resourced to act as criminal investigators, entry officers, and prosecutors in court (Section 37). Worse, Section 33 grants authorised personnel power to enter private property without a warrant and seize ‘evidence’. Without strict statutory protocols for evidence handling and procedural checks, this risks opening the door to corruption, abuse and extortion.

Sri Lanka urgently needs a modern animal welfare law. However, the current Bill reads as though it were hastily written on a Friday afternoon. It mirrors the flaws of the National Authority on Tobacco and Alcohol (NATA) Act, which taxes cigarettes at a rate 30 times higher than it taxes beedis despite beedis causing higher rates of oral cancers, Worse, it leaves betel leaves, which are responsible for more cancers than cigarettes and beedi, entirely unregulated. Despite two decades of deliberation, the Animal Welfare Bill is a mess. Back to the drawing board, please!