When people ask us if Hounds in Homes is against greyhound racing, the answer is yes.
Yes — for the greyhounds. Absolutely.
But our answer also comes with something that is sometimes missing from this conversation: compassion for the human beings and communities caught up in the system too.
We can be firmly anti-racing and still recognise that not every person who worked within the industry was the architect of it.
For years, people were encouraged, pressured and manipulated by the gambling industry to breed, race and take in more dogs. They were praised for their involvement, told there was a place for them within the industry, and made to feel that their participation was valued and necessary. For some, their livelihoods became completely dependent on it.
The industry didn’t simply rely on people’s involvement — it cultivated dependence through gaslighting, coercive control and constant reinforcement of the idea that this was their place, their livelihood and their community.
We will NEVER defend trainers who abused or mistreated dogs. There is absolutely no excuse for cruelty, neglect or suffering.
But we can have compassion for people who were enabled, manipulated and ultimately trapped by a system that had spent years convincing them that this was the only path available to them. Understanding the coercive environment people were placed in does not excuse abuse — it helps explain how an industry was able to maintain participation and dependence for so long.
We can hold individuals accountable for cruelty while also acknowledging the powerful system that encouraged, conditioned and controlled people’s involvement in the first place.
When peoples attitudes changed, The industry was forced to change. "Lets create a flashier and more gentlmanly like sport" Lets convince people things are changing. Nothing has changed, dogs are still suffering and the men in suits are still profiting. It's an unsustainable and cruel industry no matter where you come from.
When the machine no longer needs you, it will chew you up and spit you out — leaving smaller, independent rescues to pick up the pieces.
The people at the top of the pyramid don't necessarily feel the consequences in the same way as the people at the bottom.
And we've seen versions of this happening everywhere in society. Systems can encourage people into something, profit from their participation, and then leave ordinary people to deal with the fallout when the system changes.
We see something similar with gambling.
We don't have to decide that every person who becomes addicted to pokies is a bad or greedy person. We can recognise that they are being enabled by a system designed to keep them participating — while the people making the money remain far removed from the devastation.
Greyhound racing is complicated in a similar way.
We can be anti-racing and still have compassion for the people who have lost their jobs, their livelihoods and their communities because of changes within the industry.
Those two things can exist together.
In fact, we think they need to.
Because ultimately, if we don't work together, more greyhounds will be the ones who pay the price.
And they already are.
This is where our position sometimes becomes uncomfortable.
We don't believe the answer is simply to handpick the greyhounds who fit a particular mould (The industry created) and leave the others behind.
Because the greyhounds left behind are not bad dogs.
They are good dogs.
Wonderful dogs.
They may simply be young. They may be playful. They may need more guidance. They may be a little more complicated. They may need a different home, a different environment or someone willing to give them the time to learn.
It's a bit like choosing only the perfect black and white garments from a shop because they have no imperfections, while leaving behind the colourful ones because they have a tiny hole.
That hole might be stitched.
And underneath it is still something beautiful.
We are anti-racing because we want a future where greyhounds aren't bred, raced and treated as commodities.
But being anti-racing does not mean we have to stop caring about the people who were used by the system too.
We can want racing to end.
We can fight for the dogs.
We can support communities that are being left behind.
We can trust ordinary people to do better.
We can acknowledge that some people were enabled by the system without deciding that they are beyond compassion.
And we can stop allowing the people at the top of the pyramid to dictate the entire conversation.
Because perhaps the change we need isn't about choosing dogs or people.
Perhaps it's about recognising that both have been affected by a system much bigger than either of them — and deciding that neither should be thrown under the bus anymore.
The dogs deserve better.
The communities deserve better.
And we can demand both.
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