The Movement to Save Bettas From the Cup

By Conner Tighe

Walk into nearly any pet store, and you’ll likely find a row of tiny plastic cups holding a solitary betta fish. Brightly colored and barely moving, these fish float in inches of stagnant water, their long fins often drooping from stress or illness. For some shoppers, it’s a sad but familiar sight. For others, it’s a call to action.

In recent years, many people have begun “rescuing” bettas from these conditions, not purchasing them as pets, but saving them from what they see as systemic neglect. The trend has gained momentum on social media through viral before-and-after videos showing once-sick fish thriving in properly maintained tanks. But behind these uplifting transformations lies a deeper issue: the fish-rescuing movement isn’t just about kindness. It’s a response to a much bigger problem—one rooted in how pet stores, breeders, and even consumers have long normalized the inhumane treatment of aquatic animals.

As the cup method comes under growing scrutiny, it’s becoming clear that fish rescuing isn’t an isolated trend—it’s part of a larger reckoning with how we treat the industry's most overlooked pets.

The Popularity of Bettas and the “Cup Method”

Betta fish—also known as Siamese fighting fish—have become one of the most recognizable aquatic pets in the world. Their vibrant colors, flowing fins, and reputation for low maintenance have made them a staple in pet stores, dorm rooms, and office desks. However, their popularity has also led to some questionable industry practices, most notably the widespread use of the “cup method.”

Walk into a major pet retailer and you’ll likely see bettas lined up in small plastic containers, each no bigger than a coffee mug. This method of display isn’t random—logistics drives it. Male bettas are territorial and prone to fighting, so housing them separately is necessary. But instead of using proper tanks, retailers often opt for tiny, unfiltered cups that save shelf space and reduce maintenance costs.

While convenient for the store, the cup method is incredibly damaging for the fish. Bettas are labyrinth breathers—able to take in oxygen from the surface—but that doesn’t mean they thrive in still, cramped water. Prolonged confinement in such conditions can lead to a host of health issues, including fin rot, ammonia burns, stress-related lethargy, and even death. More insidiously, it desensitizes consumers to poor animal welfare by presenting neglect as normal.

What’s often marketed as a simple, beginner-friendly pet is actually a complex creature suffering in silence, sold in a way that prioritizes profit over well-being. But despite these challenges, betta fish are resilient. They can thrive in the right conditions, and it's our responsibility to provide them with that.

The Problems Behind the Practice

The issues with the cup method go far beyond aesthetics. Keeping fish in containers that barely allow them to turn around isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s dangerous. Bettas in these conditions are often subjected to prolonged exposure to their waste, leading to high ammonia levels in the water. Without filtration or regular water changes, their environment becomes toxic in days. The result? Faded colors, clamped fins, labored breathing, and a significantly shortened lifespan.

But the problem doesn’t start—or end—with the cups. Bettas are mass-produced in fish farms, often overseas, bred in bulk to meet demand. These "fish mills" prioritize quantity over quality, with little regard for genetics, health, or humane treatment. Many fish arrive at pet stores stressed, injured, or sick from cramped shipping conditions and poor breeding practices.

What makes it worse is the pervasive belief that fish are "starter pets"—easy, disposable, and emotionless. Unlike dogs or cats, fish aren’t protected by most animal welfare laws, and they’re rarely seen as creatures capable of suffering. This allows the industry to cut corners with few consequences, and encourages consumers to treat fish as decorations rather than living beings.

It’s a cycle of neglect that starts at the breeding level, gets normalized in stores, and is often unknowingly perpetuated in homes. And for many fish rescuers, that cycle is exactly what they’re trying to disrupt.

The Rise of Fish Rescuing Culture

In response to the bleak conditions bettas often face, a new wave of hobbyists and animal advocates has taken matters into their own hands—literally. Fish rescuing, once a niche concern among seasoned aquarists, has become a viral movement, largely thanks to the power of social media platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube.

Content creators post emotional rescue and transformation videos, documenting everything from plugging a lethargic betta out of a store shelf to the fish’s recovery in a fully cycled, heated, and filtered tank. These visual journeys often include educational commentary about proper tank size (at least 5 gallons), water parameters, enrichment, and diet. For many viewers, it’s a wake-up call that fish have real needs and personalities.

What was once seen as an obscure pet care niche is now a full-fledged awareness campaign. Hashtags like #BettaRescue and #FishDeserveBetter are trending, and creators are using their platforms to challenge misconceptions about fish care and hold pet stores accountable. Some rescuers have even started collaborating with animal shelters or forming independent fish rescue operations to rehome bettas and educate future owners.

At its core, the fish rescuing movement isn’t just about saving one fish—it’s about changing an entire mindset. It’s about rejecting the idea that life in a cup is acceptable, and proving that with the right care, even the most neglected fish can thrive.

What This Says About the Pet Industry at Large

The rise of fish rescuing isn’t just an isolated pushback against how bettas are treated—it reflects a much broader issue within the pet industry. Much like the controversies surrounding puppy mills or the exotic animal trade, the mistreatment of fish exposes an uncomfortable truth: when profit drives the system, animal welfare often takes a backseat.

Fish, unlike dogs and cats, rarely benefit from regulatory oversight or humane standards. While most countries have laws protecting mammals from neglect and cruelty, aquatic animals tend to fall through the cracks. This regulatory gap allows pet stores and breeders to operate without meaningful accountability and enables the sale of fish in conditions that would be considered unacceptable for any other pet.

Even the way fish are marketed reflects this systemic disregard. Bettas are often sold in the same aisle as tank decorations or water conditioners, bundled into “starter kits” that offer convenience over actual care. They’re framed as low-maintenance, low-emotion pets—ideal for beginners, children, or anyone looking for a splash of color on their desk. The message is clear: fish are more product than pet.

This commodification creates a feedback loop where poor care becomes normalized, consumers don’t know any better, and the cycle of suffering continues. The fish rescuing movement—highlighting individual stories and speaking up against industry standards—is starting to break that loop. It’s a grassroots effort pushing for something the pet industry has long ignored: treating fish like they matter.

The Ethical Dilemma of “Rescuing” from Pet Stores

While the intent behind fish rescuing is rooted in compassion, it raises a difficult question: Does buying a neglected fish from a store help, or does it reinforce the very system rescuers are trying to fight?

At the heart of this dilemma is the line between rescue and purchase. When someone buys a betta to “save” it from a cup, the store records a sale, not a rescue. That sale signals demand, encouraging the store to restock, potentially perpetuating the supply and demand cycle. It’s a moral paradox that many fish rescuers grapple with—feeling compelled to intervene in an individual fish’s suffering, while knowing the act may indirectly support a flawed system.

This ethical tug-of-war mirrors debates in other areas of animal welfare, like whether adopting a puppy from a disreputable breeder counts as rescue or enables cruelty. The difference with fish is that options are more limited—there are fewer shelters or formal rescue groups for aquatic animals, and adoption isn’t as mainstream.

Some fish keepers have responded by focusing on education rather than direct rescue. They create guides, post reviews of store conditions, and advocate for policy changes instead of making purchases. Others have shifted toward adopting from individuals rehoming unwanted fish or supporting small-scale, ethical breeders.

There’s no one-size-fits-all solution, but the growing awareness of this dilemma is a step forward. It forces consumers and retailers to think more critically about where their fish come from—and what each purchase represents.

What Needs to Change

The growing popularity of fish rescuing has illuminated the system's cracks, but awareness alone isn't enough. Real change requires action from within the industry and from the consumers who support it.

First and foremost, better regulations are desperately needed. Unlike cats and dogs, fish often lack legal protections regarding their treatment and living conditions. Governments and animal welfare organizations must start recognizing aquatic pets as sentient beings deserving of humane standards. That means setting minimum requirements for tank size, water quality, and display conditions, and holding stores accountable for violations.

Pet stores must also take responsibility. Some stores have started to phase out the cup method or improve their betta displays, offering filtered tanks and better care instructions. But these improvements are far from universal. Until retailers consistently prioritize animal welfare over aesthetics and shelf space, the root of the issue remains untouched.

For consumers, the most powerful tool is information. Learning what fish need—and refusing to support stores that fail to meet those needs—can shift demand toward more ethical practices. Supporting local fish rescues, buying from reputable breeders, and encouraging others to do the same can make a meaningful difference.

Education is the bridge. The more people understand that fish are not disposable decorations but complex creatures with real needs, the harder it becomes for the industry to continue business as usual. The more pressure placed on retailers, the more incentive there is for them to change.

Fixing the system will require a combination of public pressure, policy reform, and cultural shifts in how we view fish, not just as pets but as lives worth protecting.

This article was written by Conner Tighe