A tradition steeped in blood faces its twilight in Colombia, as a nation grapples with the morality of a brutal spectacle.
On the fringes of Cartagena, far removed from the vibrant colonial architecture and the imposing fortress that guards the Caribbean coast, a different kind of drama was unfolding. A crowd of approximately 300 people were on their feet, their roars echoing into the night. While in a nation captivated by football, such exclamations might signify a triumphant goal, here they marked the violent conclusion of a cockfight.
The scene was a stark contrast to the celebratory atmosphere. Blood stained the white padded walls of the fighting arena, a grim testament to the intense contests. As the predominantly male audience, many clutching chilled drinks, collected their winnings, handlers removed the fallen birds. Quickly, the arena was cleaned, with feathers swept away and blood scrubbed, preparing for the next bout in an evening that promised over 100 fights.
Cockfighting, a practice introduced by Spanish colonizers, has long held a strong grip on Colombian culture. However, its reign is drawing to a close. A landmark ruling by the constitutional court in September declared the practice illegal. Yet, this wasn't an immediate end; the court mandated a three-year transition period, during which the government is tasked with providing alternative means of support for the tens of thousands who depend on this industry.
"I was horrified by the court’s ruling," confessed Alí Viveros, a 38-year-old who not only breeds around 50 fighting cocks but also runs a shop supplying specialized equipment for fellow breeders, known as galleros. This equipment includes everything from vitamins and specialized carrying cases to cages.
"Cockfighting is a tradition, it’s part of our culture," Viveros asserted. He pointed to the literary significance of the practice, noting how in Gabriel García Márquez's iconic novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude, an insult exchanged during a cockfight sets in motion a chain of events leading to the founding of the fictional town of Macondo. This literary allusion highlights how deeply ingrained cockfighting is in the nation's narrative and identity.
But here's where it gets controversial: Viveros emphasized the widespread economic impact, stating, "A lot of families depend on it." He elaborated, explaining that it's not just the galleros themselves, but also the vendors selling food and drinks on fight days, the doormen, the judges, the cleaners, and those who craft the cages – a whole ecosystem of livelihoods.
The national cockfighting federation paints an even larger picture, claiming there are nearly 10,000 fighting arenas across the country and that between 270,000 and 290,000 families rely on this activity. However, animal rights organizations and activists challenge these figures, arguing that the often informal nature of cockfighting makes accurate data collection difficult. This very uncertainty is why the court also ordered a government survey to ascertain the precise number of individuals involved.
"We have waged a long and intense struggle against activities labelled as cultural, but that are cruel," stated Andrea Padilla, a senator and a prominent advocate for the ban. She drew a parallel to past societal norms, remarking, "Until recently, child marriage was also considered an acceptable cultural practice in Colombia. [But] the fact that something is deeply rooted in a society does not mean it’s morally valid."
This ruling followed similar prohibitions enacted in 2024 against bullfights, coleo (where bulls are felled by their tails), and corralejas (where often inebriated amateur bullfighters taunt bulls in an open ring).
In response, a rightwing senator introduced a bill in January aiming to reverse these bans, championing cockfighting and other practices as integral parts of the nation's heritage. This proposal is still in its nascent stages of legislative review.
The supreme court's core reasoning for these bans was that cultural tradition cannot serve as a justification for legitimizing violence, suffering, or the intentional killing of sentient beings. But this is the part most people miss: a counterargument emerged from Fabián Montes, a 60-year-old dentist and one of the country's leading cock breeders, who oversees about 1,000 birds. "And what about the chickens and cattle we kill to eat – aren’t they sentient too?" he questioned.
Montes, who stated that cock breeding is not his primary income source, defended his practice by asserting that the animals are not mistreated. He claimed that the birds fight due to their "natural condition." He elaborated, "You can release 10 brothers into the same yard and let them roam freely, and until they are about five and a half months old they can coexist. After that, even if they were raised together, they will inevitably fight and kill each other."
Scientific research does indicate that centuries of selective breeding by humans have led some breeds to develop a predisposition for combat. Nevertheless, once a chick is identified as a potential "fighter," it undergoes a form of "training," which includes simulated bouts and exercises designed to enhance its stamina. Montes insisted, "Nobody induces them to fight," and suggested that the government should "regulate" rather than ban the practice.
During a recent cockfight observed by The Guardian, at least one bout saw the birds initially hesitant to attack. Judges repeatedly nudged the birds towards each other, and only on the third attempt did they engage in pecking and clawing, resulting in the death of one bird. The practice also involves physical alterations: combs and wattles are trimmed, and leg and chest feathers are cut. To increase lethality, natural spurs are filed down and replaced with artificial ones made of metal, resin, or bone, secured with hot wax and tape.
Breeders contend that fewer than 20% of cocks perish during fights. However, animal rights advocates like Senator Padilla maintain that this figure is significantly higher. "The objective is always for one to die," she stated.
Despite her advocacy for the ban, Senator Padilla expressed concern that the government is not acting swiftly enough to provide alternative livelihoods for galleros and others involved in the industry. She warned that this inaction could lead to a new crisis when the ban fully takes effect in 2028. The Guardian's request for comment from the government went unanswered.
"I’m absolutely certain that what is coming is rampant clandestinity, because staging a cockfight is very easy – all it takes is a small space where people can gather, place bets and put two cocks to fight," Padilla predicted. "To think that a law can simply erase a cultural practice is absurd. Laws do not perform miracles."
What are your thoughts? Is it possible for a deeply ingrained cultural practice to be truly eradicated by law, or does it simply drive it underground? Do you believe the argument that cultural tradition can justify animal suffering? Share your perspective in the comments below.
