The recent decision by the Mexican state to move toward banning
dolphinariums seems, at first glance, a victory. And it undoubtedly is,but not for the reasons promoted by the institutional discourse. It is
not a triumph of "good governance" or of the "ethical progress" of the
legal system. It is, if anything, a late symptom of something that
anti-speciesist and anarchist movements have been denouncing for
decades: that the use of non-human animals as living commodities for
entertainment is not only cruelty, but a form of power. A form of
domination that finds its most obscene expression in dolphinariums.
The Dolphinarium as a Spectacle of Order
Dolphinariums are not simple recreational spaces. They are institutions
embedded in the logic of state and capitalist domination: they are
aquatic zoos where life is managed, programmed, trained, and exhibited.
The dolphin, a sentient, social, and complex being, is reduced to a
domesticated caricature that must obey in order to receive sardines and
applause.
But this isn't just violence directed at an individual or a species.
It's a pedagogy of power. The dolphinarium teaches society that it's
okay to confine, that it's okay to exploit, that it's okay to impose
suffering if the result is pleasure or profit. It teaches society that
freedom can be negotiated, that another's body can be domesticated and
put to work.
In this sense, the dolphinarium is a microcosm of the authoritarian
order: discipline, obedience, confinement, spectacle. It is no
coincidence that animal spectacle emerges and flourishes alongside the
most brutal forms of industrial capitalism. Nor is it a coincidence that
its owners and defenders appeal to science, edutainment, or even
conservation to justify what is nothing more than saltwater slavery.
The Spectacle of Care as Ideology
Those who oppose the dolphinarium ban today-tourism entrepreneurs,
trainers, and complicit politicians-do so in the name of a false notion
of "care." They claim that dolphins live longer in captivity, that they
are protected from predators, that the shows raise environmental
awareness. But what they are defending is not the well-being of
dolphins: it is the continuation of a form of accumulation, the
existence of an extractive model that turns life into service.
The language of animal welfare has been captured by power. The same
state that allows factory farming, slaughterhouses, deforestation, and
mega-tourism projects now pretends to be sensitive to the suffering of a
cetacean. This is the logic of green capitalism: not to stop
exploitation, but to manage it. Not to abolish violence, but to
aestheticize it.
Faced with this, anarchist anti-speciesism does not negotiate. We do not
ask for "better conditions" for non-human slaves, we do not accept
larger cages or more "respectful" spectacles. We denounce the root of
the problem: the objectification of life, the self-assumed right of the
privileged human being to dominate, reconfigure, and exploit everything
that does not resemble them. Be it dolphins, land, or water.
Against Legal Paternalism
As an anarchist, we do not celebrate state intervention as if it were an
ally. The law banning dolphinariums excites us not because of its
origin, but because of what it reveals: social and ethical pressure has
reached a point where even the system must give a little. But the State
does not prohibit out of conscience: they prohibit to sustain their
legitimacy.
And while this reform advances, the same State imprisons activists for
freeing animals, represses communities defending their territory,
finances ecocidal projects, and criminalizes disobedience. We cannot
forget that the legal apparatus is a control structure that protects
class interests, serves property owners, and manages life based on the
market.
Just as we don't ask the State to abolish human slavery and then kowtow
to it, we cannot delegate the fight for animal liberation to it. The
abolition of dolphinariums must be a grassroots victory. It's not about
accepting a reform: it's about continuing to fight until no living being
is exploited for entertainment, consumption, or service.
And what about the dolphins?
Here, an unavoidable ethical question arises. What will happen to the
dolphins already living in captivity? Will they be "relocated" to other
pools, returned to the sea, or euthanized? The institutional response is
often ambiguous. Some advocate for marine sanctuaries, others for
keeping them where they are until their death.
From an anti-speciesist perspective, we demand that measures be taken
that do not reproduce confinement, but rather seek to restore the
greatest possible degree of freedom to these individuals. Many dolphins
were born in captivity, never learned to hunt, and are unaware of the
dangers of the ocean or the social dynamics of the wild. But that
doesn't justify keeping them as slaves until they die.
The creation of coastal sanctuaries-without shows, forced reproduction,
or contact with tourists-is an ethical minimum. But even that isn't
enough if it isn't accompanied by a structural change: to stop seeing
animals as resources or ambassadors of anything. They are subjects. They
have their own interests. They owe us nothing.
The Economy of Confinement
We can't analyze dolphinariums without talking about money. Animal
confinement is a business. Dolphin shows generate millions in tourism,
sell tickets, justify resorts, and create precarious jobs. They are an
industry like any other: extractive, exploitative, and concentrating.
When a state bans dolphinariums, it does so not without pressure.
Business and tourism chambers react. They claim "economic losses,"
layoffs, and negative impacts. But that only proves the point: their
concern isn't life, but profit.
The abolition of animal shows shouldn't be replaced by another
extractivist model. We don't want dolphins to be replaced by "swimming
with turtles" or drones with underwater cameras. We want to radically
rethink tourism, the economy, and our relationship with the environment.
We want a world where life isn't a commodity. And that's only possible
outside of capitalism.
Beyond the dolphinarium: speciesism as a structure
If we celebrate the ban on dolphinariums today, it's not because we
think we've already won. It's because it shows that the anti-speciesist
discourse has taken root, that the cracks in the system are widening.
But we mustn't become complacent. As long as zoos, aquariums, rodeos,
circuses, farms, and laboratories exist, the spectacle continues.
And even more: as long as we continue to view nonhumans as inferior, as
things, as resources, violence will continue, even if it hides behind
white walls and "green" rhetoric.
Speciesism is not a series of isolated acts. It is an ideology, a
structure, a form of power. And as such, it is linked to patriarchy,
racism, classism, and the very logic of the state and capital. It is not
enough to free the dolphins: we must free ourselves from the need to
confine, to dominate, to command.
Conclusion: A World Without Cages
The end of dolphinariums in Mexico must be a starting point, not a goal.
We don't want more cages, more prisons, or more justifications for
exploitation. We want a world where freedom is the norm, not the
exception, where life is not negotiable, where no being-human or
nonhuman-is used as a means to another's end.
From anti-speciesist anarchism, we don't wait for saviors. We act. We
denounce. We organize. And we celebrate every crack that opens in the
wall of power, not to lull us to sleep, but to push harder.
May this ban be the beginning of the end for all forms of animal
exploitation. And may that end come not by decree, but by ethical
insurrection.
Eat Burning Grass
https://www.federacionanarquistademexico.org/
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