The Ongoing Struggle for Orca Welfare
A Deep Dive into Captivity and Change
In 2018, the essay “Concrete tanks are torture for social, intelligent killer whales” published by Aeon brought to light the stark reality of orca captivity. It exposed how confinement in concrete tanks severely affects these intelligent marine mammals. Since then, progress has been made in public policy, corporate practices, and social awareness. However, many challenges remain unresolved, reminding us that while the tide has shifted, the waters are still murky.
Legislative Shifts and Policy Changes
One of the most significant milestones in recent years has been the end of orca breeding at major marine parks like SeaWorld. In 2016, SeaWorld announced the end of its breeding program and pledged to phase out orca shows. This move was monumental, spurred by the growing backlash following the 2013 release of the documentary Blackfish, which highlighted the psychological and physical suffering endured by captive orcas. California’s Orca Welfare and Safety Act, enacted in 2016, further cemented this shift by prohibiting orca breeding and limiting performance-based activities in the state.
Despite these advances, orca captivity has not been universally eradicated. In countries without such stringent regulations, orcas are still captured and bred for entertainment purposes. The international landscape remains fragmented, with each nation approaching marine mammal welfare with differing levels of rigor and empathy.
Public Sentiment and Corporate Response
The role of documentaries, investigative journalism, and social media cannot be overstated in shaping public perception. The wave created by Blackfish has been sustained by ongoing advocacy and viral awareness campaigns. Public sentiment has gradually shifted, putting pressure on corporations to dissociate from marine parks holding captive orcas. Travel companies such as Virgin Holidays and TripAdvisor have ceased promoting or supporting parks that continue orca shows. These developments reflect a powerful alignment between consumer values and corporate practices.
However, shifting public sentiment alone isn’t enough to dismantle entrenched interests in the marine park industry. While awareness has increased and ticket sales for traditional orca performances have dwindled, the industry adapts by marketing new, less overt forms of orca exhibitions. The emphasis on “educational” presentations instead of theatrical performances is often framed as more ethical, though critics argue that these modifications still fail to address the core issue of captivity itself.
The Reality of Captive Orcas Today
As of March 2024, at least 55 orcas remain in captivity worldwide. Some were captured from the wild decades ago, while others were born in captivity, never knowing the vast ocean they are biologically wired to roam. Reports consistently highlight the detrimental effects of confinement: dorsal fin collapse, dental issues from gnawing on metal tank grates, and stress-related behaviors like repetitive pacing and head-bobbing.
One particularly tragic example occurred in March 2024, when Inouk, a 25-year-old orca at Marineland in France, died after ingesting a small metal object. This incident reignited public outcry and underscored the substandard living conditions that persist even in Europe’s largest marine parks. Such episodes remind us that the harms associated with captivity are not just relics of the past; they are ongoing, urgent concerns.
The Push for Sanctuaries
The debate over what should be done with existing captive orcas has brought attention to sea sanctuaries—large, enclosed areas of ocean where orcas can experience a more natural environment while still receiving human care. Proponents argue that sea sanctuaries strike a balance between offering orcas a more humane life and ensuring their safety, given their prolonged reliance on human support.
Despite their promise, sanctuaries face significant logistical and financial barriers. Establishing a sea sanctuary requires not only substantial funding but also political will and public support. In August 2024, a protest involving over 200 animal welfare organizations opposed Marineland’s plan to transfer two orcas to Japan, advocating instead for their relocation to a sanctuary. This incident highlights the global divide in how orca welfare is perceived and acted upon.
The Path Forward
While legislative advances and corporate commitments mark progress, the fight for orca welfare is far from over. Efforts to phase out performances and end breeding are critical, but they do not change the fact that many orcas currently remain confined in suboptimal conditions. As public awareness grows, the conversation must shift toward sustainable, long-term solutions such as sea sanctuaries and comprehensive welfare reforms.
Advocacy must continue at both grassroots and governmental levels, ensuring that orcas in captivity today are the last to endure such a fate. The lessons learned from the past decade reveal that significant change is possible when ethical responsibility aligns with public pressure and sound policy.
It is imperative to keep this momentum going—to challenge the normalization of orca captivity, champion legislative change, and invest in compassionate alternatives that reflect our growing understanding of animal intelligence and social needs. The road may be long, but with continued commitment, a future without orca captivity can become more than just a hope; it can be a reality.
Update: The Fate of Wikie and Keijo
“What happens to a captive when the cage is condemned, but the keys have been lost?”
Back in January, Marineland Antibes — once Europe’s largest marine theme park — finally shut its doors. Years of dwindling attendance, mounting public pressure, and new laws banning cetacean performances brought the curtain down on its era of dolphin and orca displays.
But not everyone got to leave.
Wikie and her son Keijo — the last two captive orcas in France — remain trapped in the ruins. Their enclosure, no longer a stage, is now just stagnant water behind crumbling walls. Drone footage released by the nonprofit TideBreakers shows them circling in algae-thick pools, performing only for the ghosts of tourists past.
These animals are not relics. They are still very much alive.
And they are still waiting.
Since the park's closure, various groups have scrambled to find a sanctuary for Wikie and Keijo — somewhere with space, expertise, and compassion. But every path forward has been blocked:
Spain said no. Loro Parque in Tenerife declined the transfer, citing capacity issues.
Canada was rejected. A sanctuary in Nova Scotia was prepared to receive them, but the French Ministry of Ecological Transition said non.
Japan was floated. But the ethics of sending orcas from one captivity to another sparked immediate backlash.
And a return to the wild? Impossible. Both orcas were born in captivity. They don’t know the ocean, only its echo.
The Empty Middle
We often talk about change like it’s a clean break. But here’s the truth: the middle is where we lose things. The policy changed. The park closed. But the infrastructure for life after captivity? It doesn’t exist. At least, not yet.
So Wikie and Keijo drift in legal and logistical limbo. Their story isn’t just about animal welfare — though it’s very much about that — it’s about systemic inertia. About what happens when we legislate progress without building scaffolding for its consequences.
And it raises uncomfortable questions:
What moral responsibility do we bear when we create lives that can’t survive outside captivity?
What does it say about our systems that the “humane” thing is to let them swim in circles in a forgotten tank?
And what might it take to design exits from our mistakes?
The Work Ahead
Groups like TideBreakers and the Whale Sanctuary Project continue to push for a solution — not just for Wikie and Keijo, but for a future where dignity doesn’t end at the gates of extinction.
In the meantime, the orcas wait.
And we watch.
And hopefully, we act.
Additional Reading: