In a previous post to the Practical Ethics blog, I discussed Ocean Embassy’s plans to open an aquarium and display local, wild-caught dolphins in Panama as part of a “conservation plan.” When I discussed this issue with friends and colleagues (particularly those who don’t regularly consider dolphin issues), they were rarely surprised that a for-profit initiative for a dolphinarium was underway in Panama. And why should they be surprised? Marine parks and performing dolphins have become part of the collective imagination and are largely taken for granted as a fixed part of our culture. It is not surprising, given the ubiquity of marine parks like SeaWorld. But the human practice of keeping dolphins in a captivity is a recent phenomenon. The popular, now-routine, “dolphin shows” only first emerged during the mid-twentieth century.

Sporadic attempts to display dolphins to the public began in the 1860s. It is telling that the history of dolphin display in aquariums is rooted more firmly in the circus than the traditional zoo. P.T. Barnum, the man who introduced the circus sideshow (a lucrative variation of the menagerie) and father of The Greatest Show on Earth, was among the first to capture and display dolphins in the mid 1800s. Having traveled up the St. Lawrence River to obtain two “white whales” (they were actually belugas), he transported the dolphins to New York by train and put them into a tank of fresh water, where they died within a few days. After filing the tank with seawater the second time, Barnum brought another pair of belugas in to display among the many “curiosities” at his “museum,” including flying fish, mud iguanas, human “freaks” (the Bearded Lady, Siamese twins, and the like), and “tamed red Indians”.

It may be a subtle point, but it is worth thinking about. Although many marine parks are part of AZA, an organization devoted to zoo professionals, their style and appeal is different from the typical zoo, where viewing animals on display is typically a passive exercise, and the animals are generally unto themselves (sometimes even hidden from view in more modern, “soft” enclosures). At dolphinariums, on the other hand, dolphins regularly perform a collection of acrobatics, interact with their human trainers, and now frequently interact-to varying degrees-with park customers.

But again, it was not until 1938, with the opening of Marine Studios (later renamed Marineland of Florida), that the public display industry as we know it today emerged in St. Augustine, Florida. Bottlenose dolphins who were caught from local waters were the star attractions. During feeding times, the dolphins are said to have fallen into a routine of jumping up to catch their fish, creating something of a spontaneous spectacle that delighted visitors. Then, a year later, it is rumored that a night employee began interacting with one of the dolphins at Marine Studios (jumping and playing with balls, inner tubes, and other things) and, as the other dolphins eventually joined in the play, such were the beginnings of the typical dolphin show repertoire seen today. When the Flipper movie and TV series caught the popular imagination, the marine park industry exploded around the world.

Although it seems the trend even now is toward increased numbers of dolphinariums, especially given the popularity of increasing “swim-with-the-dolphin” programs in the Caribbean and elsewhere, there are examples of dolphinariums closing as a result of animal rights and welfare activists working against the practice of keeping dolphins in human care. For example, in the early 1990s, the Morecambe Dolphin Campaign picketed Morecambe Marineland and petitioned local government officials for the release of Marineland’s single remaining captive dolphin, Rocky. The ethical arguments against keeping dolphins in human care persuaded most tourists not to patronize Marineland, and the city council to withdrew the dolphinarium’s operating license. The business had no choice — its dolphin display was no longer viable. (By the way, Rocky was taken from Marineland to a rehabilitation center in the Turks and Caicos islands, where ultimately he was released back into the wild). So, in the UK, where at one time there were at least 40 dolphinariums operating, by the end of the 20th century every one of them had been closed or no longer held dolphins for display.

Marine parks and dolphinariums are not necessarily permanent fixtures. The UK example demonstrates that they are not inevitable. Even in a landscape where dolphins had become integral to the popular tourist landscape (as they once were in Morecambe), we have at least one clear example of an ethical argument against captivity that gained public support and fundamentally changed the nature of tourism. It’s a beginning.

Further resources:

Davis, S. G. (1997). Spectacular Nature: Corporate Culture and the Sea World Experience. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Hughes, P. (2001). Animals, Values and Tourism-Structural Shifts in UK Dolphin Tourism Provision. Tourism Management 22, 321-329.

Reeves, R. R., & Mead, J. G. (1999). Marine mammals in captivity. In J. R. Twiss & R. R. Reeves (Eds.), Conservation of marine mammals (pp. 412-436). Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institutional Press.

Reynolds, J. E. I., Wells, R. S., & Eide, S. D. (2000). The Bottlenose Dolphin: Biology and Conservation. Gainesville: University Press of Florida.

Marine Connection’s website: www.marineconnection.org/campaigns/captivity_captive_free.html.

Photo from www.oceanembassy.com.