They are the subject of scores of tourist photographs and a documentary film, and have been cared for by communities since Ottoman times. But a law passed on Tuesday means that Turkey’s street dogs are now set to be rounded up and, in some cases, put down.
The legislation has pitched Turkey’s animal rights activists against supporters of President Erdogan’s conservative ruling party. It has also divided Turks who believe the street dogs are dangerous and dirty, and those who insist they are an integral part of the country’s history and culture.
“Of course they can be aggressive and attack if they are hungry or thirsty, or if they are not sterilised,” said Mine Vural, who cares for dozens of street animals in her Istanbul neighbourhood and has been attending protests against the law. “But the biggest problem is people attacking them.”
The debate over Turkey’s street animals has been raging for two centuries. In the early Ottoman era, animals were cherished and protected thanks to a passage in an Islamic hadith, or verse, which commands that animals should be well-treated. Homes were often built with bird boxes attached to the eaves and water bowls integrated into the entrance so that animals could drink. Laws against animal abuse were passed in the 16th century, and in the 17th century Sultan Ahmed I decreed that excess food from the home should be left out for animals.
The world’s first animal hospital was opened in the city of Bursa, in northwest Turkey, in the 19th century. In the same period, however, social and political attitudes began to shift. A modernisation and westernisation drive in the late Ottoman era led to round-ups of street animals, and in 1910, 80,000 dogs were removed from the streets of Istanbul and taken to Hayirsizada, an island in the Sea of Marmara, where they starved to death.
Cats are still tolerated and even revered by most conservative Muslims — one imam in the Istanbul district of Uskudar was well known for allowing a cat to nurse her kittens in the minbar, or pulpit, of his mosque. However, dogs are now viewed by some as dirty and dangerous. The law was introduced after months of debate on social media, with many supporters of the legislation recounting attacks they have suffered.
Today there are an estimated four million stray dogs in Turkey, some of them born on the street and some abandoned there by their owners. They are cared for by local volunteers who feed them and pay their vet bills. Municipalities are obliged to sterilise street animals and an estimated 2.5 million dogs have been neutered over the past 20 years. They are then returned to their neighbourhoods, where they are often treated as communal pets.
Some even become minor celebrities. In Istanbul, a street dog called Boji rose to fame after he was pictured riding the city’s public transport system. After he was microchipped, local officials discovered that Boji was travelling up to 25 miles a day by metro, bus and even on ferries across the Bosphorus, winning legions of fans along the way.
Boji has also attracted controversy, however, with some Turks claiming that he was defecating on the trains — an allegation that was never substantiated. He has recently been adopted by Omer Koc, one of Turkey’s top businessmen. Stray, a 2020 documentary, depicts Istanbul through the eyes of Zeytin, a street dog whose daily journeys through the city bring her into contact with Syrian refugees, traders and drug addicts.
In neighbourhoods where they are well cared for, the street dogs are generally placid. But in areas where they are not regularly fed, or are abused, they can be aggressive. Kangals, the native Anatolian shepherd dogs that are so big they can easily kill humans, are often kept semi-feral in rural areas in order to deter thieves.
There is an outcry whenever animals are attacked or abused in Turkey, and a law passed in 2021 makes animal cruelty punishable by up to four years in prison. In practice, however, sentences of less than two years are usually suspended, meaning that perpetrators usually avoid prison. Animal rights activists have also been prosecuted under data protection laws after sharing details of abusers.
Municipalities will now be required to round up and house all street dogs in shelters. Those that show aggression or signs of infectious disease must be put down; the same fate may await those for whom an owner cannot be found. Some Turks dismiss the furore as a convenient distraction from the country’s economic problems and soaring cost of living crisis. But activists insist they will keep fighting to get the law overturned and will block attempts to round up the dogs.
“We will never allow them to take our animals,” Vural said.