The Merlion Roars, the Street Cats Suffer.

Singapore ranks number one in Asia for education (OECD PISA Rankings, 2023), is among the top five countries for ease of doing business (World Bank, 2023), and holds seventh place on the global technological advancement index (IMD, 2023). It is the third cleanest city in the world (Reader’s Digest, 2023), and one of the safest, with a crime rate of just 588 cases per 100,000 people (Singapore Police Force, 2023).

For a country that only marked its 59th year of independence in 2024, these achievements are nothing short of extraordinary. In many ways, Singapore has become a symbol of rapid and calculated progress, a city-state synonymous with order, innovation, and ambition.

But national success stories often come with footnotes. While Singapore polishes its image for global rankings and investor confidence, an uncomfortable truth festers beneath the surface: a rising pattern of cruelty against stray animals, especially cats. In 2023, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) received over 1,200 reports of animal abuse. Street cats, often fed and cared for by residents, are being poisoned in HDB corridors, mutilated in back alleys, and tossed from rooftops. These incidents rarely make international headlines, nor do they prompt serious calls for stricter penalties against animal cruelty.

And it raises a difficult question: how can a nation so meticulously governed allow such violence to go unchecked?

Ironically, in countries often viewed as less developed or less orderly, such as Turkey, stray animals, especially cats, are not only tolerated but embraced. In Istanbul, street cats are fed by shopkeepers, sheltered by neighbourhoods, and protected by municipal policies. Although Turkey faces economic and political turmoil, its relationship with animals reflects a cultural ethic of coexistence that Singapore, despite all its advancement, appears to be losing.

This is the paradox of control: the tighter the grip on order, the less space there is for organic, communal care to thrive.

And once again, it raises the questions: What does progress mean if empathy is left behind? What happens when the vulnerable, even those without voices, are systemically ignored in a system built for control?

Street cats in an HDB corridor, Singapore. South China Morning Post. Accessed June 1, 2025. https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/people/article/3243823/long-overdue-singapore-animal-lovers-laud-decision-lift-34-year-ban-pet-cats-public-housing

King Kong, a beloved cat in the neighbourhood of Yushin, was found dead with his eyes gouged out and guts hanging out on the 9th of May 2025. Mothership noted that King Kong’s caretaker suspects “that someone tortured the cat to death before placing him on the road.” Shere Khan, or “Papa Cat”, was discovered with protruding globes and lacerations of the tongue in a car park near block 326B Sumang Walk in Punggol on the 14th of May. On the 24th, Sunshine, another community cat, was found brutally killed in Block 897 Tampines Street 81, suffering from blunt force trauma, internal bleeding, and a dislocated lower jaw. 

This is not just disturbing, it is inhumane and evil. 

When images of the mutilated cats began circulating online, the internet erupted. One user on Instagram, commenting under a Straits Times post, stated, “Stronger laws, stricter enforcement, and real consequences are urgently needed.”

King Kong the community cat and his new friend in Yishun, Singapore. Mothership.sg. Accessed June 1, 2025. https://mothership.sg/2025/05/king-kong-cat-yishun/

Yet critics say these responses have been largely reactive and insufficient. Despite laws prohibiting animal cruelty, as outlined in the Animals and Birds Act, which prescribes fines and jail time, enforcement remains patchy, and the penalties rarely match the severity of the crimes. Many animal advocates argue that the government’s approach lacks urgency and comprehensive policy reform, especially given the rising number of abuse cases. To effectively tackle this issue, it’s crucial to understand what drives such cruelty, not simply through appeals to empathy, but by examining the underlying social and psychological factors at play.

Cat cruelty seems to be a recurring theme in Singapore. In 2015 and 2016, the Yishun cat killings made national headlines, with over 40 cats found dead or injured in a single neighbourhood. The case sparked public outrage and eventually led to the arrest of a 40-year-old man, one of the few instances where a perpetrator was identified and charged. Yet even after Yishun, similar cases have continued to emerge in places like Tampines, Bedok, and Bukit Batok, pointing to a pattern rather than isolated acts. 

The timing of these incidents, occurring almost back-to-back in May 2025, raises unsettling questions. While it's impossible to know the precise motivations behind each act, motifs like this suggest something more than coincidence. In some cases, violence can become a form of reassurance or even encouragement: one act emboldens another, signalling to potential offenders that they are not alone, or that such cruelty can be committed without consequence. Others may seek visibility, timing their actions to profit from public attention, turning abuse into a grotesque spectacle. 

Understanding who commits these acts is just as important as understanding why. While official profiles are rare, global studies on animal cruelty often point to a disturbing pattern: perpetrators tend to be young, male, and often exhibit other forms of violent or antisocial behavior. A 2020 study published in Anthrozoös found a strong correlation between hostility toward cats and sexist attitudes, particularly among men who view empathy, nurturing, or care as weak or feminized traits. In this context, hating cats becomes more than personal preference; it reflects a deeper discomfort with perceived vulnerability, softness, or autonomy, traits often projected onto both cats and women.

At its core, cat abuse can also be read as an expression of misogyny. Historically, cats, particularly female cats, have been feminized in language and culture: they are seen as elusive, independent, emotionally intuitive, and, crucially, ungovernable. In many misogynistic frameworks, these are the very traits that patriarchal control seeks to suppress. A growing body of psychological research shows a strong link between animal cruelty and gender-based violence, with both stemming from a desire to dominate the perceived “weaker other.” In this context, violence against cats isn’t just about the animals, it becomes a proxy for resentment toward femininity itself. Harming a cat becomes an act of power performance, coded in gendered aggression. In a tightly regulated society, like Singapore, where direct gender aggression is often suppressed or severely punished, that violence doesn’t disappear; it simply mutates, finding targets that can’t fight back. 

This violence doesn’t occur in isolation. In densely packed public housing estates like HDBs, where lives are closely monitored and regulated, daily frustrations can quietly build. With limited space, strict rules, and few outlets for expressing discontent, some individuals may redirect their anger toward those least able to resist. In this context, hurting animals, especially stray cats, becomes a way to assert control in a system where many feel powerless. Development can improve infrastructure and security, but it can also create environments where alienation and aggression simmer beneath the surface.

Today it’s cats. But the logic behind that hatred, the desire to control, dominate, and erase, rarely stops at one species.

Perhaps the real measure of a nation’s development lies not only in how quickly it rises, but in how gently it holds what it could so easily crush.

This article is dedicated to King Kong, Shere Kan, Sunshine, and the countless other cats, named and unnamed, who have suffered in silence. Their deaths demand urgent attention, and meaningful change must follow.