I met Carlos Andrés, as I have met many others, in a restorative justice program in Medellín, Colombia. He did not introduce himself through the language of crime, nor did he begin with apology or self-justification. Instead, he began with memory, carefully tracing moments from his childhood that had never been explored with curiosity or care. What stood out was not the behavior itself, but the clarity with which he could now describe its emotional origins and the silence that surrounded them.

Carlos Andrés spoke about animals before he spoke about people, and he did so without dramatization or shock. He described a childhood shaped by emotional absence, unmet needs, and a persistent feeling of being invisible within his own home. Anger, he explained, was not explosive, but heavy and contained, moving inside him without language or direction. No adult ever asked what he was feeling, and no one noticed when his capacity for empathy began to weaken.

From a psychological perspective, harm toward animals is rarely about animals alone. Research has long identified childhood cruelty to animals as an early indicator of later aggression, not because it directly causes violence, but because it reflects deeper difficulties in emotional regulation and empathy development (Felthous & Kellert, 1987). These behaviors could signal internal failure long before any criminal act occurs. They are expressions of distress that has not found a relational container.

Contemporary research reinforces this understanding. Exposure to animal cruelty frequently coexists with broader patterns of adversity, emotional neglect, and psychological vulnerability. Studies show that such exposure is associated with........

© Psychology Today