Violence within the family, particularly involving children, represents one of the most disturbing and least understood forms of human behaviour. Maternal filicide, where a mother kills her own child, remains especially difficult to comprehend, challenging fundamental assumptions about caregiving and protection.
What happened in Lahore recently is the kind of incident that shakes the moral imagination. It resists easy explanation because it violates one of the most deeply held human assumptions: that a mother is the ultimate source of protection. When that bond fractures so violently, the instinct is to ask: how could this happen? But a more difficult and more necessary question is: what conditions make such a tragedy even conceivable?
To confront this honestly, we must move beyond outrage and into uncomfortable terrain. Incidents like this rarely emerge from a single moment of madness. They are often the endpoint of layered distress – psychological, social and economic – interacting in ways that remain largely invisible until it is too late.
Across parts of South Asia, including Pakistan, India and Bangladesh, family life is deeply embedded in collectivist traditions. On the surface, this provides strength: shared responsibility, emotional interdependence and strong kinship networks. But these same structures can become suffocating under strain. Women, especially mothers, are often expected to absorb emotional burdens silently. Their identity is tightly bound to caregiving, sacrifice and endurance.
Postpartum depression, chronic anxiety and domestic conflict are frequently minimised, dismissed or moralised rather than treated. In many such settings, mental health struggles remain taboo – spoken of in whispers, if at all, while deeply patriarchal norms often concentrate decision-making power in the hands of husbands, leaving women with limited autonomy and voices that go unheard, even in matters affecting their own well-being.
Mental health, despite growing awareness, still carries stigma. A struggling mother is not always seen as someone in need of care; she may be seen as weak, ungrateful, or failing in her duties. This silence is dangerous. It isolates individuals at precisely the moment when intervention is most needed.
Economic pressures intensify this vulnerability. Inflation, unemployment and housing insecurity place enormous stress on households. In many families, financial strain translates into conflict, instability and, in some cases, violence. Women who lack financial independence may feel trapped, unable to leave harmful environments, yet expected to maintain the facade of a functioning family.
There is also the issue of social isolation within the very fabric of ‘community’. Urbanisation has fragmented traditional support systems. Extended families may no longer live together, and even when they do, emotional support is not guaranteed. In some cases, the presence of in-laws or extended relatives introduces additional pressure, surveillance and judgment rather than relief.
Psychologically, extreme acts of filicide are often linked to severe mental distress, untreated depression, psychosis or overwhelming hopelessness. In such states, perception itself becomes distorted. A mother may not see her actions as harm in the conventional sense; she may believe, tragically, that she is protecting her children from a worse fate, or escaping an unbearable reality. This does not excuse the act, but it underscores the urgency of understanding the mind in crisis.
What, then, can be done? First, mental health must be normalised as part of everyday healthcare, especially maternal mental health. Routine psychological screening during and after pregnancy should be standard, not optional. Community health workers can play a crucial role here, particularly in low-resource settings.
Second, families need to be re-educated – not just about mental illness, but about emotional literacy too . Recognising signs of distress, taking them seriously and responding with empathy rather than judgment can save lives. Silence and denial are not neutral; they are active risks. Third, economic empowerment of women is essential. Financial independence is about both income and agency. When women have resources and mobility, they are better able to seek help, leave harmful situations and make decisions that protect themselves and their children.
Fourth, community structures, religious institutions, local organisations and schools must become active participants in mental health awareness. In societies where formal mental health services are limited, these spaces can serve as first points of contact, offering support and referral rather than stigma.
Finally, media and public discourse must shift away from sensationalism. Labeling such incidents as ‘monstrous’ or ‘inhuman’ may satisfy emotional reactions, but it shuts down inquiry. If we treat perpetrators only as aberrations, we miss the systemic failures that allowed the crisis to deepen unchecked.
There is no way to undo the loss in Lahore. But there is a way to take it seriously with a commitment to changing the conditions that make such tragedies possible. The question is not whether society is shocked. The question is whether it is willing to look closely enough at itself to prevent the next one.
The writer is a professor and HOD at the Department of Community Medicine /Public Health at the NUST School of Health Sciences (NSHS), Islamabad.
