Chiang Mai (Northern Thailand) Tourist Guide


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Underwater Warriors:
The Beta (Siamese) Fighting Fish

Text : Izak Walton
Images : Karin

You’re in Thailand. While there are many minor sporting components of this country’s intriguing culture you’d like to explore, perhaps some are just a shade too recherché to grab you, while others like Thai kick-boxing may be too plain bloody to allow you to admire its finer points. And beetle fights (no! I’m not kidding) staged during the coleopteran mating season? Not quite up your street, you might think. But how about fish fighting, as something you’re not likely to come across every day back in the West? It’s a facet of Thai culture not too many foreigners know about. And since you’re here and need to have something exotic to talk about when you go back home – well, why not join me in the jaunt I made to one of the murkier parts of Chiang Mai city recently?

I shall have to be a little cagey about names and locations. Like many other competitive activities here, betting on the outcome of plagut Thai (literally, ‘Thai biting fish’) contests is an inseparable component. And gambling - this is the point - is against the law.

“Oh, come on now,” you’re going to say. “Since when has the illegality of anything bothered anyone? It’s one of the charms of this country that it’s so free and easy. You can probably go up to a cop somewhere and ask directions to the nearest gambling joint, and he’ll point you in the right direction without batting an eye-lid.”

And you’re probably right, but there’s a difference between talking about such activities, and printing names and places, so I’m going to be a little light on the details. So just let me say that my friend Nualchira (Mit) who’s introduced me to so many aspects of Northern culture, was the one who raised the subject of fighting fish and led me to it. And as well as agreeing with the idea of being discreet, she provided a great deal of the fish-fight lore that follows.

So let’s follow Nualchira from the taxi that’s dropped us in a small soi in the walled city, into the fine old teak house fronting a somewhat dusty but well-lit compound, and mingle there with the fighting-fish fraternity - Northern Thai Kon Muang-speaking to a man (and the occasional woman); admiring the gleaming piscine warriors in their jars, plastic bags, jugs and tanks, some already in combat: sinuously twisting, turning, hovering, stalking and of course biting one another, while their owners and the on-lookers urge them on, and money, a very small amount of it mine, changes hands (and of course, its ownership).

Now let me say the overall spectacle of the occasion is rather more impressive to the newcomer than any particular bout taking place there. When the match between two warriors the size of a middle finger has been agreed on, and the battle-ready Beta fish (as they are also called) are scooped out of their bottles and plopped into a jar, seeing the two fish bristle their fins and lash out at each other like plucky, seasoned prize fighters, is quite a thrill. Nevertheless, one bout between a fishy Hector and a piscine Achilles looks pretty much like any other, and it was Nualchira - and through her some of the spectators - who was able to inform me on some of the finer points of the sport that would otherwise have been lost on me.

For example, how face-to-face, the opponents are transformed into wonderfully beautiful creatures - their color deepening, gills quivering and widening; fins and tails spreading outward, assuming a warm glow. Beautiful as they can be though, they’re putting on a show of territorial ownership. They lose no time in getting at each other, biting fiercely and cruelly. Sometimes with mouths locked for minutes or even as much as an hour, they move throughout their watery ring, maneuvering for position in the attempt to defeat the opponent.

All the same, after a couple of hours of flashing fins, falling scales, and a couple of losing bets, we left the compound to the aficionados, and it was afterwards that Nualchira filled me in on some of the details of the sport.

* * *

Each warrior has a fighting style engrained into its genetic engineering, she said, and while much of their tenacity and talents is instinctual, they are nowadays bred, fed and trained as lean, mean boxing machines - enthusiasts placing their bets accordingly, basing their calculations on the amount and severity of the injury inflicted and received by both sides.

In a historical nutshell, the original fighting fish were called plagut lug tung (literally, ‘upcountry biting fish’). According to legend, beyond being a food source, these finned fellers over 700 years ago were noticed by Thai countrymen to be fighting for territory amid their irrigated rice paddies.

Thais love entertainment. Hence, what started as an amusing observation naturally evolved into a more structured hobby that also involved betting. Likewise, the breeding and fighting arena moved from the fields to the houses and ponds of the traditional Thai village itself.

Eventually, fishes of varying colours and species were sought, in time evolving into genetically engineered super fighters that are brighter in colour than the Beta originals. They are also more stylistic, large and muscular - with shorter fins and broader bodies that better allow them to push the opponent around and make him lose control. Each species has its own fighting style. Some will go for the gills, fins or stomach. With others, the technique is simply to do whatever it takes to down the opponent and maintain mating territory.

Furthermore, the Thai fighting fish can be categorized into two main groups: short and long-finned, and further categorized into various sub-groups.

The plagut morh for example has been crossbred with other species from Cambodia, Vietnam, and Malaysia, so that it’s difficult to distinguish them nowadays by place of origin.

The ‘snake head’ is the most popular body style of the fighters. Its movements are fast and aggressive, and it has a nasty bite. Long and slender, it comes in an assortment of colours, while the scales are usually green.

The short head and bodied, ‘Anabas Testudineus’ is an older model of the plagut Thai. Most of them have solid colours such as green, red and blue. They are tough and don’t mess around when they attack. However, they are comparatively slow movers.

The inner workings of the fighting fish society are generally closed to the public. One, because those participating in this sub-culture are hobbyists, and new members are generally brought in by those who’ve been in the game a while. Two, gambling in Thailand is, as noted above, illegal. Three, the social dynamics of this sport leave little room for variation. This is a players’ game, with each participant slotted into a relative category.

The Breeder, for example: He plays the most significant role in fighting fish society. Good breeders produce good fighters. They nurture them from birth, as well as working diligently toward breeding a batch that buyers will want to choose from.

The Gambler: Some come to the game with their own fish. Others arrive empty-handed while watching to see which fishes to bet on. They generally have a good relationship with hardcore breeders and betting players.

The Seller: They serve as the middlemen between the breeders and other players.

The game these participants play is like poker. There’s an information lingo that goes with it. The fighting fish circle is generally an informal group that identifies by nicknames. Most participants don’t even know each other’s real names. However, there’s a hierarchy related to one’s colourful nickname and reputation.

Some examples: ‘Tik the eagle,’ refers to a player’s character: He has sharp eyes, is fast on the draw, is quiet and flies high. ‘Noi around the world’ can play everybody at his own game. ‘Ting yellow water’ may be someone who beefs up his fish with hormones. ‘The gang of four’ is the name given to four professionals working as a team. They play as if in a guerrilla war - planning well, acting systematically, remaining silent and accepting no betting limit.

Furthermore, there’s the ‘Eagle’, a young, keen, professional player. Individualistic, quiet, confident and with keen eyes, he can quickly decide whether a fighter will win or lose by watching for a few minutes. He’s likely to be one of the regulars who makes a living out of gambling on fish warfare.

Deer: This is the fighting fish seller who tries to please everyone. He doesn’t belong to any particular group and plays carefully with small sums of money without worrying overmuch about the results.

The Fox is the experienced trickster. The others have to look out for him.

And so it goes. This then is part of the lore that Nualchira imparted. There’s more at www.plakatthai.com. And even if this is as far as you go, you’ll have learned a great deal more about wider Thai society than you knew before. And can’t you see what a conversation stopper this has the potential of being, back in the West.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I won some money at a Thai fish fighting fiesta…?”