What Kia Said Wasn’t New. Who’s Finally Listening?

Kia Joorabchian didn’t whisper. In his recent Daily Mail interview—a piece that now hangs in the air like a loaded question—he looked the racing industry dead in the eye and called it a “secret society.” And he’s not wrong.

In a sport built on tradition, few things are more threatening than honesty with volume. But what he said wasn’t new. It’s just usually said by those with less power and fewer connections—quietly, cautiously, behind the scenes. This time it came from someone with visibility. But make no mistake: truth doesn’t need a trust fund to be valid.

What matters here isn’t who said it—it’s whether the industry is finally ready to listen. Because racing is on the edge. The margins are shrinking. Staff are leaving. The next generation of fans isn’t buying in. Owners are cautious. Punters are jaded. And goodwill? It’s running on fumes.

You don’t fix that with Ascot content and platitudes. You fix it by dismantling the rot—starting with a system that rewards silence and performance over protection.

Joorabchian named it: underpaid stable staff working exhausting hours, a mental health epidemic hiding in plain sight, and a culture that still treats welfare as a side dish rather than the main course. For all the PR gloss and charity campaigns, too much of racing is still structured around hierarchy, not humanity.

Amo Racing, the operation he’s built, is proof he knows the game inside out. It’s not a vanity project. It’s a disruptive, multi-million-pound syndicate challenging old empires with real bloodstock, real wins, and real influence. But again—this isn’t about his bank account. It’s about the uncomfortable reality that everything he’s pointed out is already known by those working closest to the horses. They just rarely get the microphone.

There are brilliant people inside this sport who’ve been pushing for reform for years. Charities doing the heavy lifting. Quiet allies inside racing bodies trying to shift the culture. But are they being backed with power? Or are they being patted on the head and asked not to rock the boat?

Racing can’t keep painting over the cracks with heritage and hashtags. It has to rebuild the foundations—starting with those who carry it. The grooms, the riders, the staff who turn up before dawn and leave well after the last race is run. The people who don’t get invited to the after-parties but carry the cost when something goes wrong.

Who is protecting them?

Who is holding owners and syndicates accountable for the conditions they fund?

Who is investigating toxic workplace cultures in yards where speaking up can cost you your job?

Who is ensuring that mental health support is embedded, not outsourced?

If the answers are vague, performative, or convenient, then the industry isn’t evolving—it’s circling the drain.

This isn’t about gatekeeping who gets to speak. It’s about recognising that when the truth is spoken—by anyone—it demands action, not defensiveness.

Racing has a choice. It can cling to its old guard, its safe narratives, and its performative PR. Or it can grow up. Take the hits. Get honest. Rebuild with integrity. Protect the people who make it run. Not just when tragedy strikes or glory hits—but every ordinary day in between.

Because if a sport built on courage can’t face its own reflection, what legacy does it really want?

Extinction isn’t dramatic. It’s quiet. It happens when you stop listening. When you polish the trophies but ignore the toll. When you let the show go on while the people backstage collapse.

So what now? The curtain’s been pulled back.

Time to decide what kind of sport you want to be.