Inside the world of organised dog fighting and the fight to end it

When the BBC aired its Spotlight investigation into organised dog fighting this September (Dog Fighting: Exposed), it was a hard but essential watch. 

Sparse but devastating footage, mainly captured on mobile phones, showed Pitbull-type dogs forced to run on treadmills in secret training rooms and brutal fights between two dogs. Meanwhile, leaked match reports documented torn flesh and broken bones, while handlers boasted of victories that could only be measured in suffering.

As much as we would like to think of dog fighting as a relic from the past, the BBC investigation, led by Patrick Fee, concluded that it is very much a present problem. 

Far from the story of a few rogue individuals, the documentary gave us a glimpse into a vast global network that operates in most major towns and cities, out of housing estates and stately homes alike. 

Indeed, some of the kennels were discovered in ordinary neighbourhoods where families walked their own dogs, blissfully unaware that, just beyond the garden fences, others were being conditioned for violence.

For many of us, dogs are woven into the fabric of family life. They’re companions, guardians, therapists, comedians. We mourn them as we would any loved one. 

That’s what makes the revelation that dog fighting is widespread so disturbing. It asks us to face a reality that sits in direct opposition to how we usually think about dogs: not as friends or kin, but as commodities in a blood-soaked trade.

The cruelty behind closed doors

Dog fighting has a long and shameful history but, perhaps because it’s illegal in so many parts of the world, it’s often spoken of as if it belongs to the past. 

The BBC’s findings – built on months of intelligence gathered by the Ulster Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (USPCA) and the League Against Cruel Sports (LACS) – tell a different story. 

Together, these organisations documented dozens of organised matches, referees, handlers, and dogs traded between countries. One kennel was uncovered on a busy estate in County Armagh. Another hid within the grounds of Shane’s Castle, one of Northern Ireland’s best-known estates.

Investigators found that each match followed a grim pattern. 

The dogs were conditioned for months by being forced to exercise until exhaustion (often with heavy weights or chains around their bodies or tethered to a fast-moving treadmill), isolated from other animals, and brutalised to sharpen their aggression. 

Other reports of dog fighting practices suggest that dogs are frequently shocked with shock collars and deprived of food and water to make them more aggressive. Sometimes, handlers will cut off a dog’s ears and tail so that they can’t be bitten during a fight. In some instances, the dogs are even given steroids or cocaine to “improve” their performance.

The fight reports unearthed by the USPCA and LACS showed that the fights themselves often ended only when one dog could no longer move. In some reports, both died. 

When dogs are injured, they often die after the event due to infection and lack of proper veterinary care. They may also be killed by the handler if it looks like they won’t be fit to fight in the future.

Dogs who are unsuitable as fighting dogs (for example, those with a more passive nature) may instead be used as bait for “training” purposes. This generally means that they are muzzled, restrained, or otherwise rendered unable to fight back, then used as a target for the fighting dog to attack.

A hidden industry

Gambling fuels the dog-fighting trade, and secrecy sustains it. In the BBC documentary, Janette Reever, an American investigator for Humane World for Animals, says she is aware of bets ranging from $50,000 to $1 million being placed on a single fight. 

This is big business.

Trying to measure the scale of dog fighting is like trying to chart the shape of smoke. Official statistics barely exist. 

In the UK, cases are rarely logged under their own category and are instead absorbed into general cruelty or animal welfare offences. The League Against Cruel Sports says it has received 600 tip-offs since 2024 and estimates that reports have risen by around fifty per cent in two years, but even that only scratches the surface.

The World Animal Foundation publishes some further statistics:

• 16,000 dogs die annually as a result of dog fighting
• Almost 40,000 Americans participate in dog fighting in some way each year
• The average dog fight lasts for one to two hours
• Dog fighting has been encountered by 50% of police officers at least once in their career

Four Paws in Australia says that:

• There are currently believed to be 150 active dog-fighting rings in Australia
• Some fights have winnings totalling $700,000 (figures that don’t include inevitable side wagers)

Criminology research shows that dog fighting adapts with society. In the past, it was mainly rural, conducted in pits or barns. Today, it’s mobile and urban, taking place in garages, warehouses, and basements. Fights are arranged through encrypted messages. Videos circulate privately among gamblers and breeders. There are forums on the dark web dedicated to this industry.

The networks are complex. There are breeders who specialise in “game” lines, trainers who prepare the dogs, handlers who arrange the matches, and bettors who bankroll the spectacle. 

Money moves quietly through these channels, and where there’s money, there’s protection. Investigators have found links between dog fighting and other organised crimes, such as drug running, weapons trading, human trafficking, and illegal gambling. Each element reinforces the other, making prosecution incredibly difficult.

In the BBC documentary, a former member of a dog-fighting circle, now turned FBI informant, says his life would be in danger if his identity were revealed. Threats like this buy people’s silence and keep dog fighting hidden.

The law and its limits

In theory, the UK has strong legislation. Dog fighting has been illegal here since 1835. The Animal Welfare Act 2006 makes it illegal to cause, promote, or attend any animal fight. The penalties were increased in 2021 to a maximum of five years in prison, but enforcement is patchy. 

Because dog fighting isn’t always recorded as a distinct offence, it often falls through the cracks. Gathering evidence requires undercover work, surveillance, and forensic expertise, i.e. resources that overstretched police forces rarely have.

As we’ve seen, dog fighting commands enormous amounts of money. People can charge $100,000 in stud fees for a male “champion” (a dog who has won at least three fights) and raids often result in seizing substantial bets of $500,000-plus. 

When an illegal activity is this profitable, a great deal of money goes into protecting it from the police and prosecution.

Northern Ireland, where the BBC’s investigation began, faces additional hurdles. The USPCA can collect intelligence but has no powers of arrest. That responsibility falls to the police, who must balance animal cruelty against other pressing priorities. It means many leads go cold.

Elsewhere in Europe, laws vary widely. Some nations impose heavy sentences for organising or attending fights; others rely on outdated welfare provisions that make conviction difficult. 

Criminals exploit these inconsistencies, moving dogs and equipment across borders faster than legal systems can respond. Without a coordinated European approach, the trade persists in the gaps between jurisdictions.

The United States provides a useful comparison. Dog fighting is banned in all fifty states and under federal law through the Animal Welfare Act, which also makes it a felony to transport dogs across state lines for fighting or to attend a fight as a spectator. 

Yet despite this legal framework, the US remains one of the world’s largest hot spots for dog fighting. Tens of thousands of dogs are believed to be bred, trained, and fought every year, sustained by underground networks and high-stakes gambling. 

Several large-scale raids and prosecutions have demonstrated what’s possible when agencies work together, but they also highlight how difficult it is to root out a crime that thrives in secrecy and is powered by profit.

Breed Specific Legislation

In countries like the UK, another layer of legislation has been used in an attempt to curb dog fighting: Breed Specific Legislation, which bans or restricts certain types of dogs thought to be used in fighting, such as the American XL Bully, Pitbull Terrier, and Dogo Argentino. 

However, these laws are deeply controversial and many major animal welfare organisations (e.g. RSPCA, Blue Cross, American Veterinary Medical Association, Humane World for Animals) strongly oppose them. 

Critics point out that people engaged in organised dog fighting already operate outside the law, moving dogs through illegal channels and falsified paperwork. The ones most affected by Breed Specific Legislation are ordinary families whose well-loved dogs happen to resemble banned breeds. Many of these dogs are destroyed based on appearance rather than behaviour. 

Most experts feel that Breed Specific Legislation does little to deter the criminals it’s meant to target, while fuelling fear and misunderstanding of the very animals most in need of compassion.

Survivors in the aftermath

When raids do succeed, the images that follow are hard to forget. Investigators have found rows of scarred dogs in makeshift cages, eyes dulled by exhaustion or fear. Some cower at the sight of people; others greet rescuers with wagging tails, desperate for touch despite everything. They’re often living in rooms or crates covered in urine and faecal matter, with no enrichment.

Each one carries the marks of what has been done to them.

Physical injuries are often severe, including puncture wounds, broken bones, missing teeth, and chronic infections. The psychological trauma runs deeper still. Many have never known gentle handling or safe social contact. They’ve been rewarded for aggression and punished for hesitation. 

Tragically, one of the characteristics that makes Pitbulls so desirable in dog fighting circles is their devotion to humans and willingness to endure terrible suffering for the humans they know. In the BBC documentary, Janette Reever talks about being aware of Pitbulls who have fought to the death because a “trusted” human urged them on.

Rehabilitation, when possible, is slow and painstaking. Behaviour specialists work for months, sometimes years, to help these dogs rediscover a sense of security. Some learn to trust again, responding to patience and consistency with heartbreaking eagerness. Others remain too traumatised or reactive to be safely rehomed and either spend the rest of their lives in sanctuaries or, more commonly, are euthanised. 

In countries where there is Breed Specific Legislation, euthanasia may be the only legal option.

Those outcomes raise tough questions. How do we measure justice for the survivors of an industry that should never have existed? What does freedom look like for a dog who has been taught to fight? 

Even when rehoming succeeds, it requires extraordinary commitment, meaning experienced carers, ongoing behavioural support, and careful management. These are not quick rescues but lifelong responsibilities. Every success story represents hundreds of hours of care and thousands of pounds in veterinary and rehabilitation costs.

Fighting the networks

While the BBC Spotlight documentary presented compelling evidence against several individuals in the UK, US, and Europe, no charges have been made at the time of writing this article. 

It’s clear that immense protections are in place, especially for people operating breeding and training facilities.

Ultimately, tackling dog fighting means dismantling a worldwide network, not just arresting individuals who can be easily replaced by others in this secretive circle.

Some progress is being made.

The Leagues Against Cruel Sports and the USPCA’s Special Investigations Unit continue to feed intelligence to enforcement agencies. 

Internationally, groups like Four Paws, World Animal Protection, and the Animal Welfare Investigations Project are pushing for greater cooperation between nations. They argue that dog fighting, which is often described as a “gateway” crime to other offences, should be treated in the same way as trafficking or money-laundering: an organised criminal enterprise that demands an international response.

Training for police, vets, and customs officers can also make a difference. Recognising the signs, i.e. a particular pattern of scarring, modified treadmills, or chains, can lead to early interventions. 

Some regions have introduced anonymous reporting systems and community outreach programmes in areas where fighting is more common (for example, LACS’s Animal Crime Watch). These grassroots efforts may sound small, but they help chip away at the secrecy that allows cruelty to flourish.

Still, progress is uneven. Investigations take time, funding, and political will. And with budgets slashed to the bone, crime against our fellow animals too often falls to the bottom of the list.

The deeper contradiction

The existence of dog fighting forces us to confront a broader question about our relationship with other animals. How can societies that celebrate dogs as family also allow others to be tortured for entertainment? The answer, uncomfortably, lies in the way we separate compassion into categories. We love the dogs on our sofas, but avert our eyes from those in fighting rings.

It’s not a problem unique to dog fighting. The same moral disconnection underpins every industry that exploits our animal kin for profit, whether in racing, sport, breeding, or farming. The difference here is visibility: dog fighting is illegal, so it hides. That secrecy makes it easier to pretend it isn’t happening.

To face it honestly is to recognise that cruelty thrives wherever empathy is selective. The same empathy that leads us to comfort a frightened dog at home must extend to those we’ll never meet, the ones suffering behind locked doors.

Steps we can take to stop dog fighting

Change begins with awareness, but it can’t end there. The BBC’s investigation was powerful precisely because it dragged a hidden crime into public view. Awareness creates pressure, and pressure drives policy.

We need tougher enforcement, consistent data collection, and well-funded investigation units with the authority to act. We also need sentencing that reflects the brutality of the offence and resources for rehabilitation so that survivors have a chance at peace. Above all, we need to stop treating organised cruelty as a niche concern.

Ordinary people have a role too. 

If you suspect dog fighting, please report it. Trust your instincts. Fights aren’t always highly organised events; they can sometimes happen with little notice in the middle of a park or housing estate (known as a street fight or ‘roll’).

Common signs of dog fighting include:

• Dogs kept in heavy chains
• Outbuildings with muffled barking
• Animals with repeated injuries, especially around the face, neck, and front legs 
• Dogs being heard but never seen
• Unusual traffic, especially heading towards secluded areas
• Damaged equipment (including teeth marks) in local parks

It’s vital that you don’t intervene in a dog fight for safety reasons. Instead, the advice is to gather as much evidence as possible and to report your concerns. 

Supporting the organisations doing this work is another way to help. The League Against Cruel Sports, the USPCA, and local rescue charities depend on public donations to sustain investigations and provide sanctuary for survivors. Each contribution strengthens the network of compassion that counters the network of cruelty.

And finally, speak about it. Share the facts with your friends and family. The more openly we discuss these crimes, the harder it becomes for them to exist unseen.

Hope in resistance

It’s easy to feel despair in the face of such violence.

People often say that they can’t watch programmes like the BBC Spotlight documentary because it’s too upsetting. But that’s exactly why we should engage with these topics. If it’s distressing to us as a witness, just imagine what it’s like for the individuals in the fighting ring.

Every investigation, every rescue, every voice raised in defence of these dogs pushes the world a little closer to decency. There are already countless people working quietly to undo the harm – investigators risking safety to collect evidence, vets volunteering time to treat survivors, carers spending sleepless nights earning a traumatised dog’s trust.

Their work reminds us that compassion can be organised. It can be methodical, persistent, and unstoppable. The same determination that criminals channel into cruelty can be met with an equal and opposite resolve to heal.

When enough people care, there’s nowhere left to hide. That’s what the BBC’s investigation has shown; cruelty may adapt but so can compassion. It can cross borders, share intelligence, and refuse to look away.

To end dog fighting is to affirm something larger, that dogs are not property or entertainment, but sentient beings who trust us to protect them. Each of us, in our own way, can help honour that trust. Because if we truly see dogs as family, then the only acceptable number of fights is none.