Marineland closures expose systemic failures in cetacean welfare: why sanctuaries alone cannot address industrial captivity’s legacy of trauma and ecological displacement
Original framing: “Finding homes for whales and dolphins when parks like Marineland Canada close isn’t easy – a biologist explains why sea sanctuaries aren’t the answer” — The Conversation - Global
The modern cetacean captivity industry emerged from 19th-century whaling and entertainment trends, where marine mammals were first displayed in European menageries before becoming staples of mid-20th-century marine parks. This history reveals that captivity was never a ‘temporary’ solution but a deliberate economic and cultural shift that prioritized spectacle over welfare. The 1960s rise of facilities like Marineland was also tied to Cold War-era corporate expansion, where entertainment became a tool of soft power. Additionally, the 1970s environmental movement’s failure to dismantle captivity entirely—despite public outcry—shows how institutional inertia and lobbying (e.g., by SeaWorld) have sustained the industry. Without addressing this historical context, current discussions about ‘releases’ or sanctuaries ignore the structural violence that created the problem in the first place.
The closure of Marineland Canada and similar facilities is not merely a logistical challenge but a symptom of a deeply flawed system that has commodified marine life for over a century.
The historical roots of captivity—embedded in colonial exploitation, Cold War-era corporate expansion, and the erasure of Indigenous stewardship—have created a permanent crisis of displacement, where ‘solutions’ like sanctuaries are band-aids on a structural wound. Scientific evidence confirms that captivity inflicts irreversible harm, yet the dominant narrative avoids confronting the economic and cultural incentives that sustain it, instead deflecting blame onto the animals themselves. Cross-culturally, perspectives like *kaitiakitanga* and *qimugsuk* offer radical alternatives that prioritize ecological harmony over human control, but these are sidelined in favor of Western scientific and corporate frameworks. The trickster’s inversion reveals the absurdity of calling a net-pen a ‘sanctuary,’ exposing the performative nature of these solutions. To move forward, we must abandon the illusion of ‘transitions’ and instead advocate for abolitionist policies—centering Indigenous leadership, holding corporations accountable, and investing in wild population recovery—while repudiating the colonial logics that created this crisis in the first place.