Bloodshed in Bali

The Dark Tradition of Cockfighting

Photos & Writing by Deniz Tapkan Cengiz / We Animals Media
Editing by Mei Seva & Jorge Delgado-Ureña

I was standing with my camera in my hand, among about five hundred men, in the arena where sharp knives were attached to the roosters' legs and the animals were dragged into a bloody fight. 

The loud sound of five hundred men shouting which rooster they were betting on with a wave of their hands made my head spin. My ears were picking out the sounds of roosters among human voices, like cries for help. Or perhaps they wanted to warn the other roosters about the danger.

I know that altruistic behaviors are also observed in roosters because I am in the process of getting a master's degree in cognitive ethology. Last year, I interpreted a scene I encountered in a slaughterhouse as an animal photojournalist, and as a zoologist, and pursued the question: Does a sheep feel fear when it sees the death of another animal? My research built upon Darwin’s book 'The Expression of Man and Animals', which claims that animals and humans share basic emotions such as happiness, sadness, and fear.

This path I took in search of emotion took me into the deep wells of consciousness, when I came across the following definition in the book of primatologist Frans De Waal. 

"What is consciousness other than the processing of information?"

Our brain transforms the signals we receive through our sense of sight into information about our environment. This information then creates an emotion and even a reaction in us. If we talk about evolutionary continuity - which we have to do when we work in the field of cognitive ethology - consciousness is not something that suddenly appeared in humans, but rather a legacy that gradually develops, grows, evolves as needed, and is passed on to us from our ancestors in the evolutionary process.

So why is consciousness important when talking about cockfighting? Because we need to be able to imagine what kind of hell it is for the roosters, who are made to fight by attaching knives to their legs for gambling purposes, in arenas where hundreds of men gather and scream at them.

I should point out that systems created as a result of domination over animals, such as bullfighting, camel wrestling, and cockfighting, were all created by men. As a result, dozens of animals are left covered in blood and arenas fill up with people who profit and get excited from these deaths. Why does the consciousness of human beings, who see themselves at the top of the system, continue to hold on tightly to these shallow 'traditions' instead of moving away from them? What dimension of consciousness is this?

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If I rewind the movie, I went to Bali for vacation last month. Because Bali was always a beautiful destination where I loved its nature, culture and people. Of course, I carried my zoologist and animal photojournalist hats with me when I went. And I pursued a story in which I would wear both hats: cockfights.

When I researched about this practice on the internet, I read that this 'sport' was banned. However, as I learned, those who organize the fights get permission from the local government for a certain fee. I asked several locals where the fights were taking place and if I could enter as a tourist. Generally, the women I asked had no knowledge of the fights. Others told me that I could enter to watch, but that I had to buy a ticket. As a result, according to the information given to me by a local driver, I learned that there would be a big fight in the town of Sekaan, one hour away from the hotel where I was staying, and we set off together. 

When we came to an area where many motorcycles and cars were parked, we realized we had arrived. A woman was cutting the tickets. These tickets, which were mandatory only for tourists, cost 50 Indonesian rupees.

The sounds of people shouting could be heard outside the arena. When I walked in, the wall of sound hit me in the face. Shouts of 'the one on the right' and 'the one on the left', referring to the rooster they were supporting, reverberated throughout. Men lifted their prisoners high up in the air, their other hands stretched out to ask for bets. When I looked at the middle of the arena, the fight was about to start. Since I didn't have a telephoto lens with me, I quickly descended all the high stairs and came to the edge of the arena. I didn't know what to expect. I had never looked online before coming. In fact, I thought it was a fight in which the roosters would not die. But it wasn't like that at all.

After collecting the bets, the two men released their roosters into the arena for the fight. One of them ripped off a feather from his rooster, aiming to make the rooster angry. The roosters flew towards each other and started fighting. This is exactly how two roosters who met in a forest or on a farm would fight, for example, to compete for food.

But the biggest difference here was that the men attached sharp knives (taji) to the roosters' legs just before the fight. The roosters, who did not know this, were killing each other. Less than a minute later, both roosters were on the ground covered in blood. Then one of the men leading the fight placed a large basket over both roosters. The aim was to prevent the injured but angry roosters from escaping from each other and to lock them in a basket so that they could deliver the final blows. When he slowly lifted the basket, I saw the lifeless bodies of both roosters. 

"We were just fighting. Why are these people screaming?

Why am I lying covered in blood?"

After watching the fight, something inside me started to overflow. I wanted to scream and shout,  "What kind of insanity is this!" Tears began to flow as I tried to suppress my anger. Even though I tried to cover my face, the men saw me crying. And they started laughing. I turned my face to the arena and came face to face with a rooster in the basket. He was afraid. I was afraid too. As a woman. And as a human being.

I was trying to understand how this cruelty towards roosters, who can feel pain and pleasure, became normalized and how it has been preserved until today, protected by the label of 'tradition'. I wanted to leave. I turned my head back again and started looking for the driver. The men noticed that I was looking for something and started making fun of me.

''Are you alone?”

”What did you come with?”

“Who brought you here?”

These people, whom I smiled at when I met them in another part of the city, had now turned into a mob that I feared. Lots of male homo sapiens. Screaming roosters in baskets. The ground covered in bird feathers. And knives stained with blood.

After photographing three fights in total, as soon as I saw the driver, I made the 'we're leaving' sign and ran up the stairs and jumped into the car. I thanked the driver, who I felt was crushed under the weight of his culture, for taking me there. I leaned my head against the window. While passing through the rice fields, I saw a temple and asked to stop and got out of the car. I was so sad I had difficulty holding back my tears.

Remembering all the animals whose suffering I witnessed, the cow in the slaughterhouse, the sheep sacrificed, the 20,000 meat chickens that couldn't walk or breathe, the camel slaughtered for sausage, the calf that was forcibly separated from its mother so it wouldn't drink any more milk, and more, I stood in front of a Hindu temple with two rooster statues at its door. I waited for my mind to be centered again. I realized that it wouldn't be that easy. 

Until I told environmental writer Diana Hulet about the article I wanted to write about cockfights. I told her that if I shared this deeply shocking feeling I experienced as a woman, I would remain in a homocentric perspective and would leave the story of the roosters at a tangent. She replied, "This  can never be a homocentric article." My mind, which received the signal, quickly returned to its center and my tears began to flow.

Yes! Because I went into that hell for the animals. For animal freedom. And I had to share it with you before that fire burned me. I had to express the scream I held inside through my photographs.

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In closing, I would like my photographs to be accompanied by the words of American historical theorist Susie Linfield: "(…) today it is not possible to say 'I didn't know'. Photographs have deprived us of the complicity of ignorance. While we are now aware of injustices in the most remote corners of the world in ways our ancestors could not have imagined, the images we encounter demand not only our attention but also our actions.”

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To see more of Cengiz’s work, view her animal activism portfolio here.

Follow her on Instagram here.