Julie Harrington’s Whip Legacy: ProCush, Perception, and the Scandal No One Wants to Talk About

As outgoing British Horseracing Authority (BHA) CEO Julie Harrington prepares to step down, her legacy is one of reform and, at times, quiet controversy. Much of her tenure has focused on preserving horseracing’s "social licence"—a term that has gained prominence in the sport thanks to BHA’s Chief Regulatory Officer, Brant Dunshea. This "licence," as Dunshea describes it, is an odd one: a licence with no licensor, no written contract, and most precariously, no formal appeals process. Racing’s very existence is tethered to the court of public opinion, and as anyone in the industry knows, that court is often one of ignorance.

Harrington’s efforts to preserve this licence have centred on high-profile reforms, particularly the use of the ProCush whip. But recent rumours surrounding the Dee Stakes suggest that while the public may have been placated by surface-level reforms, deeper issues remain unaddressed—and some of them might be quietly swept under the rug to keep horseracing’s reputation intact.

The ProCush Whip: A Modern Solution or a Mere Gesture?

The ProCush whip, with its foam-padded design, represents an attempt to modernise the sport and reduce the perceived cruelty that the word "whip" inherently evokes. Unlike traditional whips, the ProCush makes more noise than impact, acting as a communication tool between jockey and horse rather than a device for punishment. Under Harrington’s leadership, the BHA introduced stricter rules, limiting jockeys to seven strikes on the flat and eight over jumps—an attempt to allay public fears about horse welfare and ensure the sport remains aligned with evolving societal expectations.

However, critics have long pointed out that the real issue isn’t the number of strikes, but the force behind them. A lightly tapped horse struck seven times is arguably far better off than one whipped four times with excessive force. The ProCush whip was designed with horse welfare in mind, but the debate has shifted from what the whip actually does to what it looks like it’s doing. And therein lies the rub—racing, and Harrington’s reforms in particular, have been more about managing public perception than confronting the more complex realities of horse welfare.

Social Licence: A Licence with No Licensor

Brant Dunshea’s concept of the social licence—a licence with no licensor and no written contract—speaks volumes about the precarious position racing finds itself in. It operates legally, of course, but its ultimate right to exist rests not with regulatory bodies but with the unpredictable whims of public opinion. And in recent years, that public opinion has become a dangerous force. Horseracing is constantly at the mercy of this ill-informed jury, and all it takes is one widely publicised incident—one clip of a jockey using the whip or one on-track horse fatality—for the entire sport to face an existential threat.

The uncomfortable truth is that the vast majority of the public does not fully understand modern horseracing, let alone the intricacies of how the ProCush whip works or the stringent welfare measures in place. For many, the sight of a jockey whipping a horse, regardless of the science or safety behind it, triggers an instinctive reaction: cruelty. Even if the ProCush causes no pain, it looks like it does. And as Dunshea and Harrington have acknowledged, in the court of public opinion, perception often trumps reality.

This is where the social licence becomes so tenuous. The public sees, reacts, and condemns, even if their understanding of what they’ve seen is incomplete. This emotional reaction isn’t necessarily driven by malice, but by ignorance—and that ignorance has real consequences. For horseracing, the balance between satisfying public sentiment and preserving the sport’s integrity has become more precarious than ever.

The Dee Stakes Rumours: Sweeping the Scandal Under the Rug?

This brings us to the rumour that two horses in this year’s Dee Stakes returned from the race with marks, likely from excessive use of the whip. This incident, if true, would expose a significant breach of the very welfare standards the ProCush whip and Harrington’s reforms were designed to uphold. By any measure, it should have sparked an investigation. But according to insiders, the racing authorities chose to downplay the issue—perhaps recognising that a public scandal could have catastrophic consequences for an industry already treading on thin ice.

If the marks on these horses were indeed from overuse of the whip, this incident represents not only a failure of enforcement but also a betrayal of the public’s fragile trust in the sport. And yet, instead of transparency, it appears the issue was quietly brushed aside. The stewards and regulators, faced with the possibility of another media storm that could damage the sport’s already embattled reputation, may have calculated that it was better to suppress the issue than risk more negative headlines. After all, racing’s social licence is as easily revoked as it is granted, especially when public opinion is driven more by gut reaction than informed analysis.

This alleged cover-up, though still unproven, exposes the real tension at the heart of Harrington’s reforms. In focusing on the visible (the number of strikes), horseracing may have missed the opportunity to address the invisible (how the sport is actually regulated and enforced). The ProCush whip debate was always more about optics than reality, and incidents like the Dee Stakes rumour threaten to pull back the curtain on the sport’s real welfare challenges.

Perception vs. Reality: Racing’s Ongoing Battle

The Dee Stakes rumour also highlights the ever-present gap between perception and reality in horseracing. While the ProCush whip reforms were introduced to create the image of a kinder, more regulated sport, incidents like these suggest that behind the scenes, not everything is as polished as the sport would like us to believe. It raises the uncomfortable possibility that some within the sport are more focused on maintaining a "clean" image than on ensuring that the rules are consistently enforced.

Meanwhile, the public, watching from the stands or via televised coverage, often has no idea that these deeper welfare issues are at play. Most are unaware that the ProCush whip has been scientifically designed to be non-harmful, or that the number of strikes may be less important than how much force is used. Instead, they see a whip and make their own assumptions—often driven by emotion rather than fact. And when perception becomes the primary driver of policy, the sport risks bending to a misinformed court of public opinion.

Julie Harrington’s Legacy: A Fragile Social Contract

As Julie Harrington departs from her role, her legacy will be remembered for her attempts to preserve horseracing’s social licence in a time when the sport’s relationship with the public is more fragile than ever. Brant Dunshea’s description of a licence with no licensor, no written contract, and no clear terms is an apt metaphor for the ongoing battle the sport faces. Horseracing must continuously earn its right to operate in the public eye, and the terms of that contract can change overnight based on the latest viral clip or media scandal.

Harrington’s whip reforms, while well-meaning, were always more about managing the optics of the sport than solving its deeper welfare issues. Limiting the number of strikes may have bought the sport time with an increasingly welfare-conscious public, but it didn’t address the more complex realities of horse safety, injury prevention, or the enforcement of regulations behind the scenes.

The Dee Stakes rumour, if true, is a reminder that transparency is key to preserving the sport’s integrity. If horseracing wants to survive, it cannot simply brush aside uncomfortable truths in the hope that no one notices. In a world where public opinion can turn on a dime—and where that opinion is often shaped by ignorance—the only way forward is through genuine accountability and a commitment to the welfare of the horses that make the sport possible. Otherwise, racing risks losing its most valuable asset: the trust of the public. And in the court of public opinion, once that trust is lost, no amount of reform will win it back.