Can We Love What We Cage? The Dilemma of Marine Parks

I’ve long been obsessed with the ocean and its inhabitants, a fascination shared by humanity for ages. As divers, we’re privileged to witness the underwater world firsthand, observing marine life in its natural environment. Many of us, however, were likely first inspired by visits to places like SeaWorld or aquariums. I fondly remember my local aquarium in Chester, UK, and the joy of sharing that experience with my nephew, Oscar.

While divers might sometimes feel a sense of superiority, we must consider how non-divers develop their passion for the underwater world—how they begin to understand something they may never experience directly.

For decades, marine parks and aquariums have aimed to bridge this gap, showcasing magnificent creatures like dolphins, whales, seals, and sharks. These centers were once celebrated as educational and entertaining marvels, offering a glimpse into the ocean for those who couldn’t see it themselves. But as our understanding of marine life has deepened, so has the controversy surrounding captivity. The debate is complex: Are these facilities still relevant? Do they do more harm than good? To answer these questions, we must examine their history, evolution, and the ethical dilemmas they present.

Marine animal captivity dates back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries with the display of smaller species in aquariums. The move to larger animals coincided with advancements in tank design and transportation. The 1960s and 70s marked a golden age for marine entertainment parks. Facilities like SeaWorld in the US and Marineland in Canada captivated millions with performances featuring orcas, dolphins, and sea lions. These meticulously choreographed shows highlighted the intelligence and trainability of these creatures. At their peak, these centers symbolized innovation, adventure, and a connection to nature.

However, this booming demand had a dark side: the capture of wild animals. Early capture methods were often brutal. Dolphins and orcas were herded into bays, separated from their families, and transported to marine parks. Young animals, prized for their adaptability, were often targeted. For every animal captured, many others perished during the hunt or shortly after from stress, injuries, or separation trauma. The orca captures in Puget Sound during the 1970s are a particularly infamous example. Entire pods were disrupted, and the effects are still felt today. Orcas, known for their strong family bonds, suffered immensely. This raises a crucial question: Was humanity’s desire for connection with marine life worth this ecological and emotional cost?

By the late 20th century, public opinion began to shift. Documentaries, books, and investigative journalism exposed the darker side of captivity. Blackfish (2013), focusing on Tilikum, an orca involved in several human fatalities at SeaWorld, was particularly influential, sparking widespread outrage and renewed scrutiny. Research further amplified these ethical concerns. Scientists documented the physical and psychological suffering of large marine animals in captivity: chronic stress, reduced lifespans, and stereotypic behaviors like repetitive pacing. The confined tanks, lack of natural stimuli, and forced human interaction were a far cry from their vast ocean habitats. Simultaneously, advancements in technology offered new ways to engage the public. Virtual reality and drone footage provided immersive alternatives, prompting the question: Do we still need live animal displays?

Today, the marine entertainment industry is at a crossroads. Attendance at parks like SeaWorld has declined significantly since Blackfish. In response, many facilities have reformed their practices: ending breeding programs (SeaWorld ended its orca breeding program in 2016), focusing on rescue and rehabilitation (like the Clearwater Marine Aquarium), and prioritizing educational initiatives about conservation and threats like climate change and pollution. However, criticism persists. Opponents argue these reforms are superficial and don’t address the core ethical issue of keeping large marine animals in captivity. Even with improved conditions, critics maintain that no artificial environment can replicate the freedom of the ocean. The challenging question remains: Can captivity be justified if it serves broader conservation and educational purposes?

The debate is deeply polarizing. Pro-captivity arguments emphasize the role of these facilities in education, research, and conservation, inspiring millions to care about marine life. They argue that some captive-born or injured animals wouldn’t survive in the wild, and that parks offer them the best possible quality of life. Anti-captivity arguments contend that the educational benefits are overstated, failing to convey the complexity of natural behaviors and risking a disconnect from the natural world. They emphasize the ethical implications of confining intelligent creatures for entertainment and question whether the resources spent on these facilities could be better allocated to habitat protection and addressing threats like overfishing and climate change.

I believe the decline of marine parks holding large animals is a positive development. Keeping such incredible species in captivity seems incongruous with our modern understanding. But this raises a crucial question: How do we continue to educate and inspire young people to protect these animals? How can we forge new connections?

Modern solutions include:

• Virtual and Augmented Reality: These technologies offer immersive experiences of marine life without captivity.

• Documentaries and Films: Engaging films like My Octopus Teacher, Blue Planet, and Our Oceans continue to inspire.

• Social Media Campaigns: Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube can share impactful short videos and infographics.

• Modern Aquariums: Aquariums can transition to non-captive spaces with lifelike digital exhibits, holograms, and immersive projections, such as the life-size whale models at Whales of Iceland.

• Whale Watching Tours: These tours offer a cost-effective and natural way to experience these creatures in their environment and on their terms.

As divers, what do you think? Can these modern solutions effectively engage the next generation? What childhood experiences shaped your perspective? Share your thoughts and let’s continue this important conversation.