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"The sole object of Pleasurama Ltd is to make a profit for its shareholders." ~ Sir Harmar Nicholls, MP ~ |
Perhaps one of the most sordid examples of dolphin exploitation was the brain-child of Pleasurama, now one of Robinson's partners in Spain, but then lead by Sir Harmar Nicholls, MP. Pleasurama's London Dolphinarium, at 65 Oxford Street, opened its doors to the public in 1971, as an up-market striptease revue featuring dancing "aquamaids" and several dolphins confined to a tank 3m deep, 14m long and 5m wide. In his book Doctor in the Zoo, David Taylor writes that the male dolphins had to be treated with anti-androgens to prevent them making passionate advances to the mermaid showgirls. Unlike the Moulin Rouge's similar revue, which spanned 14 years, the London Dolphinarium was never a great financial success for Pleasurama and it closed its doors in 1973. Always the optimist, Klinowska reports that "an experimental lecture and demonstration service for schools" also took place here, but presumably without the aquamaids. Writing in the magazine Animals, journalist Nigel Sitwell declared that he was "shocked" by what he saw and heard at the dolphinarium's opening gala night, eagerly attended by striptease and circus voyeurs, fellow politicians of the chairman, investors and Pleasurama share-holders. "The nadir of my evening was when Sir Harmar Nicholls, MP, chairman of Pleasurama Ltd, announced that 'the sole object of Pleasurama Ltd is to make a profit for its shareholders'. This amazing remark was greeted with delighted cheers and applause. It does, of course, reflect a good conservative business principle - and in many business fields it is arguably quite acceptable. But not, I submit, when the business is keeping animals in captivity." Sitwell went on to deride the showbiz and glitz of the dolphinarium, its complete absence of any element of education, conservation, or scientific research, an observation as relevant then as it is today: "The standard of commentary at most of these shows is shockingly low, consisting almost entirely of pure corn. And I believe the surroundings are important too. In the case of the London Dolphinarium, one has to negotiate one's way past a battery of stalls selling an array of gimcrack souvenirs of the most spectacular vulgarity. The whole atmosphere smacks of blatant hucksterism - it is the land of the fast buck - and I think it is quite wrong to keep any animals, but dolphins in particular, in such undignified surroundings."
In March 1974, a similar nude review, the brain-child of soft porn impresario Paul Raymond, opened at London's Royalty Theatre, but closed after only six weeks due to adverse publicity. Klinowska writes that "the famous 'dolphin strip-tease' appears to have been accomplished by training the animals to press quick-release fasteners and the swimmers to position themselves appropriately; not by soaking the bikinis in fish meal or by hiding pieces of fish in the costumes." Klinowska, however, gives no sources for this claim, and there have been persistent rumours to the contrary, especially from the Moulin Rouge. In any event, it is now virtually beyond doubt that the dolphins in Paris had to be kept half-starved in order to make them perform. But this aspect of wild animal training - food deprivation and reward - is something that Klinowska consistently fails to address.
Other prominent personalities during the heydays of the dolphin entertainment industry include Terry Nutkins, currently General Manager of Windsor Safari Park. Nutkins is a veteran dolphin owner and handler who had his fingers in innumerable business pies. Employed by Pleasurama as their Assistant General Manager, he was instrumental in founding the London Dolphinarium and its aquamaids revue in 1971. From 1970 to 1983 Nutkins was also General Manager of four Trust Houses Forte dolphinaria which lost at least 12 dolphins during his tenure.
Reg Bloom is another seasoned practitioner in the arts of dolphin exploitation, with almost a quarter of a century of experience to draw upon. Formerly director of Don Robinson's Flamingo Park in Yorkshire, Bloom is now consultant to the same amusement park-cum-zoo, re-christened Flamingo Land by its new proprietor in 1978. He is also joint-owner with his son, Peter Bloom, of Dolphin Services, an off-shoot of Bloom U.K. which supplies dolphins under contract to various establishments - including Flamingo Land where Peter Bloom is dolphinarium manager and head trainer. Having worked at Clacton and Windsor, Hong Kong, and two dolphinaria in Spain, Peter Bloom has accumulated over eleven years of experience in the industry, and was even commissioned to set up from scratch a dolphinarium in Manila, from designing the pool and having dolphins caught in Taiwan, to staff and animal training.
From 1971 to 1985, Reg Bloom operated the pretentious-sounding North Sea World Training Dolphins School at The Pier in Clacton on Sea in Essex, which consisted of an outdoor former swimming pool. Although used for storing dolphins, Bloom's Dolphins School was also a training establishment, with many animals spending time there during transit from one venue to another. Bloom was also involved in the capture, purchase and transportation of dolphins for other owners, including Sir Harmar Nicholls' aquagirls revue in Oxford Street. In 1969, he went off to the Florida Keys to catch dolphins with Jerry Mitchell, and five animals which managed to survive capture and transport ended up at Windsor Safari Park, then owned by the Billy Smart organisation. Later residents of Bloom's Clacton pool included three young killer whales, Nemo, Neptune, and another unnamed male, owned by the International Animal Exchange. They had been wild-caught from the same pod in October 1981 by Helgi Jonasson's animal-dealing company in Iceland, Fauna. Languishing in the seaside pool awaiting sale, their plight aroused the attention of Greenpeace which subsequently launched a campaign to 'Free The Clacton Three.' But within days - and only two months after they were fished out of the sea - the anonymous male died of traumatic shock following severe injury to its abdominal wall and kidneys, either caused by a transit accident, attempted suicide, or by the aggression of his brothers in the sloping 2.40m-3.20m deep former swimming pool. Neptune died 18 months afterwards of peritonitis, leaving Greenpeace with a campaign called "Free The Clacton One."
Without insurance, those deaths would have represented a stinging loss for the International Animal Exchange. But as it was, unable to find buyers for the animals, the mortalities may even have been financially expedient since the whales each cost 30,000 pounds in insurance premiums and feed, consuming 220 kg of fish every day. Nemo languished for three years at Clacton, which meant that in terms of survival rates, he was already living on borrowed time. Greenpeace had raised 45,000 pounds to buy the whale, with the intention of retraining him for life in the wild and eventually releasing him in his home waters to rejoin his family or pod. But neither Nemo's owners, the International Animal Exchange, nor Clacton Pier's Manager Frank McGinty, were in the mood to haggle with Greenpeace, least of all in public. Release would have set a dangerous precedent, and some scientists, who should have known better, were quick to condemn the plan as a gimmick which would be both cruel and fatal - though it is ironic that they never termed the catching or imprisonment as such. McGinty stated that Nemo would cost at least 250,000 pounds, inflating the ailing whale's value to put it way beyond the means of the Greenpeace budget. A behind the scenes attempt by the International Animal Exchange to sell the whale to an aquarium in Mexico failed when the Department of Environment refused to issue an export permit on the grounds that Mexico was not a member of CITES. Finally the battle of nerves culminated not in Nemo's release back into the wild as Greenpeace had so fervently hoped, but in the creature's transfer on "humanitarian" grounds to Windsor Safari Park. Here, the whale, 7.5m in length and weighing over a ton, was to share a claustrophobic 26 x 14 x 3.5m pool with a female orca called Winnie, 7 bottlenose dolphins, and, during show-time, a sea lion act and a high-diving performance.
Nemo's long solitary confinement at Clacton and the fate of his brothers had provoked considerable public controversy, and indeed, it was actually the plight of this single orca which eventually prompted the government to launch, in the autumn of 1985, an official enquiry into U.K. dolphinaria, to be spearheaded by Dr. Margaret Klinowska. "For the whale whose plight started it all," wrote Kieran Mulvaney of the Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society, "the future of Britain's dolphinaria is no longer of any consequence. Shortly after Nemo had been moved to Windsor, I went to see him for the first time, and found him resting his head against a viewing window in the wall of his pool, vocalising to himself as he rocked gently from side to side. As I watched silently, a crowd of school children tried to attract his attention by jeering and banging on the glass just inches from his face. It was, at least, an indignity Nemo did not have to endure for too long. As 1986 drew to a close, he became seriously ill with cancer. By the time his trainers noticed any symptoms, it was too late to do anything. Within days, he was dead." 'Cancer' was, at least, the official line, though no tissue samples were made available for independent analysis.
By 1986, only five dolphinaria had managed to survive an inevitable process of recession and consolidation, partly induced by public distaste for the ruthlessness with which the marine cousins of humanity have been exploited. Those establishments were Brighton Aquarium and Dolphinarium, Flamingo Land in North Yorkshire, Knowsley Safari Park on Merseyside near Liverpool, Morcambe Marineland in Lancashire, Whipsnade Park, and Windsor Safari Park Ltd.
Brighton Aquarium and Dolphinarium is owned by Aquarium Entertainments Ltd, leased from Brighton Corporation. Its main pool - 22m long, 9m wide and 3m deep - is normally shared by three or four dolphins. Although first opened in 1872 by Prince Arthur, it was not until 1968 that a display pool was constructed to house two bottlenose dolphins that had been captured in Miami. Brighton was also not averse to an occasional dabble in animal dealing. In 1977, in a joint venture with Don Robinson, six Mexican dolphins were ordered, their planned destination Scarborough Marineland. Five of the animals survived capture long enough to be put in wooden crates in the unheated hold of a aircraft bound for London. Chilled to the bone, the ailing creatures were then driven to Brighton for nursing, but four of them died. The one remaining dolphin recovered and was sent to Scarborough where it eventually became just another anonymous mortality statistic. Then, in 1979, in conjunction with the ubiquitous Reg Bloom, six animals were purchased from Ocean Park dolphinarium in Hong Kong. They were the survivors of a so-called "drive fishery" in Taiwan, where dolphins are slaughtered either for meat for human consumption, or because fishermen regard them as pests which deplete their fishing grounds. For about two months, Reg Bloom had the six dolphins put in temporary storage at a disused swimming pool in Worthing. From there, four animals went to clients in Spain, and the remaining pair were taken to Brighton, one surviving another three or four months and the other dying a year later. Altogether, Klinowska speaks of 14 out of 17 dolphins dying here between 1968 and 1985, although she stresses that "Brighton have not kept systematic records of their animals and the veterinary records before 1983 have disappeared."
The children's TV star Tommy Boyd once worked with the dolphins here. "On a couple of occasions the quite complex filtration system that's necessary to maintain these dolphins would break down," he is quoted as saying. "When that happened, the pool wasn't unhygienic but it used to smell a bit fishy and algae would begin to collect around the edges. The people in charge at the time decided that in order to keep it looking pretty, they'd better tip some neat chlorine in. The morning after, we came to the pool and found a sort of translucent, oily substance floating on the surface. According to one of the trainers, it was the dolphins' skin that had been burnt off." Although one of the standard alibis of the industry is that all of these nasty occurrences are things of the past, Doug Cartlidge, in his own Survey of UK Dolphinaria, prepared on behalf of Zoo Check and the Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society, recounts a similar experience at Brighton in 1987: "On two separate occasions we saw large amounts of neat chemicals being emptied directly into the water forming a green cloud covering over 30% of the pool through which the animals had to swim." Cartlidge goes on to note that, being entirely underground, the dolphins here must spend their entire lives in an artificial light and atmosphere. Although 'fresh' air is pumped in by an air-conditioning unit, it cannot cope with the "heavily chemically-laden atmosphere." Three adult dolphins and one calf were inhabiting the pool at the time of Cartlidge's investigation, and he noted that they showed "little interest in performing" and exhibited "stereotype swimming patterns." Observing that the calf "is severely underdeveloped and extremely small" for its age, and taking into consideration its lethargic behaviour, Cartlidge warned that "the animal's future could be in jeopardy." Sure enough, even before his report had been published, the Brighton calf and also the adult female had perished.
It was in 1978 that entrepreneur A. Gibb - who also owns Hamilton Academicals Football Club - took over Don Robinson's Flamingo Park and re-christened it Flamingo Land. The dolphinarium, which closed its doors in 1979 after seeing eight dolphins die within four years, was renovated and re-opened in the spring of 1984, though the dimensions of the pool remained the same. It was Reg Bloom who landed the contract to manage the dolphinarium, and under the agreement, he was made responsible for all aspects of its operation, from procuring the animals, to transport, training and welfare. On the last of these responsibilities Bloom failed dismally, right from the very beginning. Having completed all bureaucratic requirements, Bloom placed his order for three bottlenose dolphins, to be caught by Dr. Jay C. Sweeney's Dolphin Services International in Florida. From then on, the operation was plagued by delays and incompetence and Bloom became increasingly anxious that the animals would fail to arrive in the U.K. before his import permit expired. By the time the dolphin-dealing vet had fulfilled Bloom's order, there was no time left for "acclimation" - the procedure of allowing freshly-caught animals time to accustom themselves to captivity and human contact. Virtually at the last moment, Bloom realised that renovations to the Flamingo Land pool had not yet been completed, and so, in what was later officially termed a "technical violation" of the law, he switched destination to Knowsley Safari Park on Merseyside, where two of his animals were already incarcerated. Unwell on arrival after a strenuous journey, one of his newly-purchased dolphins died due to peritonitis and drowning and Klinowska hints that inadequate water purification may have been partly to blame.
Pool size at Flamingo today is no different from 1968, when Reg Bloom's original 1966 design was expanded into a figure '8' in order to accommodate the ill-fated killer whale, Cuddles. Its three current inmates must make do with a world 24m in length, 12m in diameter and between 2.74m and 4.27m in depth. However, as Doug Cartlidge wryly points out, during show time here, in line with the dolphin industry's new role in public education, it is announced "that these animals in the wild would never encounter water deeper than three metres."
Knowsley Safari Park in Prescot, near Liverpool, is owned by the Earl of Derby, and was opened to the public in 1971 following the lead of other stately homes which had to choose between bankruptcy and an invasion of day-trippers. The 18th Earl of Derby chose the latter, perhaps inspired by his distinguished ancestor, the 13th Earl, who had created his own menagerie of rare and exotic species at Knowsley early in the last century. Somewhat consoled by this, the Earl formed a partnership with circus baron Jimmy Chipperfield to operate the safari park. The Park's dolphinarium, operated under contract by Trust Houses Forte, was inaugurated in 1972. Perhaps for the sake of its reputation, the hotel chain prudently chose to revoke their contract in the beginning of 1983 because of what Klinowska terms "the difficulty and expense of obtaining replacement dolphins." In ten years of operating the establishment, Trust Houses Forte had lost at least seven dolphins at Knowsley alone and this could not be reconciled either from a profit or public relations point of view. It was then that the Earl and ringmaster Chipperfield called in Reg Bloom, who promptly obtained a permit to import two replacement dolphins from the USA. The first of these, purchased from Marineland, Palos Verdes, California, arrived in March 1983, became ill with phlebitis at Christmas and died the following February of liver failure. And so the show went on, this time with yet another two dolphins, called Sooty and Clyde, delivered by Terry Nutkins who had purchased them from Blair Drummond when Trust Houses Forte dissolved all of their dolphin interests. But ultimately, Knowsley was to become yet another victim of dying dolphins, financial constraints and public pressure, and by 1987 the dolphinarium had closed its doors for good.
Whipsnade Park and its Water Mammals Exhibit is owned by the Zoological Society of London (ZLS). It is a registered scientific and educational charity which is somewhat ironic since a succession of teachers have condemned every U.K. dolphinarium, including Whipsnade's, as being entirely devoid of educational value. Established in 1826, the ZLS has a proud and distinguished history, though how rose-coloured is open to question. A gentleman's club for much of its life, inspiration for its founding seems to have been sired by a passion for collecting as many unknown and exotic curiosities as could be found within the animal kingdom.
As early as 1860, attempts by the ZLS were made to keep harbour porpoises at Regent's Park, but from the fourteen that arrived, three died during capture, and the remainder soon perished in captivity, setting an unheeded and ominous precedent for the future. It was not until 1972 that the ZLS, having maximised its range of exotic species at Whipsnade Park since acquiring it in 1927, opened a "cetacean collection" to serve the callings of science and education. Concealed behind such pretensions were four frightened and travel-weary dolphins which had, with the usual degree of compassion, just been caught, bartered for, force-fed and dispatched by Marine Animal Productions Inc., operated by one Mobi Solangi, yet another Florida dolphin catcher. Notwithstanding a supposedly superior standard of animal husbandry at Whipsnade, one animal perished within the space of a week. Doug Cartlidge reports that "this animal had numerous infected ulcerated skin lesions caused by chafing in the slings during transport. . . No fat was found in any part of the carcass. . . Stress and trauma were also listed as causes of death. Therefore, it would appear that this animal starved to death and was transported even though it was ill." Two of the other imported dolphins died in 1974, the third in 1979, while the remaining dolphin had the luck or misfortune to live until 1984. A baby born in May 1984 lived less than a fortnight.
By 1985, only two dolphins composed Whipsnade's "Order Cetacea" despite an original avowed ambition to stock the pools with other species of dolphin and whale, and to establish a breeding colony. But behind such scientific affectations, it was in fact all the fun of the fair. Indeed, in his 1988 study, Doug Cartlidge reserves some of his harshest criticisms for this once eminent and prestigious institution. "The pool itself is wholly inadequate in terms of size for the purpose for which it was supposedly intended: as a pool for a proposed breeding colony for dolphins. . . it even fails the standards introduced in 1985 by the European Association of Aquatic Mammals, which is made up mainly of owners and operators of dolphinaria." Nor was Cartlidge impressed by Whipsnade's much-vaunted standards of animal husbandry. "The actions of the staff at this establishment towards their animals have appalled me," he wrote. Noting that a net had even been left in the pool with the dolphins, he commented: "Video film clearly shows that both animals were in the same area without any supervision. Even an inexperienced visitor commented on the inherent danger. Had either animal become caught in the net it would have drowned before any assistance could have been given. How 'qualified' staff could have carried out such an irresponsible act amazes me."
Cartlidge goes on to describe the plight of Samson, an animal who had become psychologically devastated by his confinement here. "For a number of years now the male, 'Samson', has been exhibiting severe mental and psychological problems. He goes into an almost psychotic trance, and on occasions he has been known to ram the underwater viewing windows. He fails to respond to any signal or stimulus for extended periods of time." Klinowska, in her report for the government, also cites Samson's erratic behaviour, though with explanations that appear unashamedly anthropocentric. "He began to 'attack' the underwater windows," she wrote, "building up to nine incidents in a month and damaging his beak and melon (the area above the beak). It was thought that he was attacking his reflection and many efforts were made to reduce reflections, by altering lighting, without much effect. Various 'toys' and extra play sessions with keepers were also provided, but to no avail. In the 1985 observation session we saw no 'attacks', but Samson did bump his head on the glass when inadvertently startled (by a dropped pencil) at 01.15 and produced a new (to us) very loud 'creaking' sound, which was repeated at increasing intervals and decreasing frequencies for almost 10 minutes." Noting that the behavioural problems first began when two of Samson's companions died in 1983, she went on to declare that Whipsnade's decision to bring in a replacement dolphin called Lady was a "reasonable solution to the problem." The scientific evidence for this diagnosis apparently, was that "in the six months since Lady arrived, glass attacks have only occurred three times."
Cutting its losses, Whipsnade Zoo closed its dolphinarium in June 1988, despite all the glowing plans for a large-scale breeding centre which had so impressed Klinowska during the government enquiry. Still battling with madness, Samson was moved out of sight and out of mind to Spain, while Lady was to end her days at the grimy and squalid Morcambe Marineland.
Evidently run on a shoe-string, the dilapidated Morcambe Marineland in Lancashire is owned by Ocean World (Marine) Ltd., a yacht building and fitting company which took over from Don Robinson's Trident Television in 1983. Once proudly claiming to be "Europe's first Oceanarium", it currently possesses a solitary male dolphin called Rocky. This individual is the only one left out of at least 13 others which either died or passed through on the way to some unknown and unenviable fate since Morcambe's opening in 1964. The establishment was never very lucky with dolphins: according to the BBC's Watchdog programme in 1984, seven out of eight dolphins died here within two years. Ironically, Rocky has the deepest dolphin pool in the country - 5.5m - but all to himself. The animal had been held virtually in solitary confinement for four years, with only a brief respite when Sooty - who was destined to perish within two months - was acquired from Liverpool's Knowsley Safari Park. Lady, purchased bought from Whipsnade in June 1988 to enhance show value and give Rocky some company, died a year later after suffering a miscarriage. Although organizations such as Zoo Check had protested the proposed transfer, no reply from the government was received until after the deal and merchandise had been signed, sealed and delivered. "The wisdom of mixing Lady with Rocky must be questioned," wrote Cartlidge. "Although representation was made to the Department of the Environment pointing out reasons to refuse the move, they decided in their wisdom to sanction it. If Lady dies within a short time of arriving at Morcambe then the Department of the Environment must be considered, in part, responsible." Following a brief visit shortly after Lady's arrival at Morcambe, Cartlidge added the following comments: "She was not feeding, was very lethargic and all her skin was peeling badly. It was later discovered that there had been a problem with the chemical induction system, causing the severe burning. Her failure to feed would indicate possible, stress-related problems following transportation." The dolphin never recovered.
Windsor Safari Park in Berkshire, now owned by John Rigby's Themes International Plc, was originally the brain-child of circus baron Billy Smart, and was opened in 1970 by Princess Margaret.
Billy Smart had already gained some experience with cetaceans in 1965, when 30 seemingly lost pilot whales were sighted swimming in the Thames. Always with an eye open for an unexpected opportunity, Smart, together with staff from Don Robinson's Flamingo Park, promptly mounted a catching expedition. But after five days and expenses of a thousand pounds, they were informed by the police that whale catching in the Thames was illegal. It apparently contravened the 1324 Royal Fish Law which states that all whales are the property of the Crown. In his 1982 book Next Panda, Please, intrepid vet David Taylor relates, in yet more incredulous adventures, how he accompanied Garry Smart, grandson of the circus czar and one of the directors of Windsor, to Malta in an effort to save two baby pilot whales which had been languishing on a fishmonger's slab for three days. Taylor promptly patched-up the animals and then had them put in a local swimming pool, while he and Smart went off to arrange passage for the rescued whales to Windsor. When they returned to the pool however, they discovered that the animals were suffering from acute sunburn, apparently because the locals who were tending them concluded that they enjoyed the sun; they had even smeared their bodies with suntan lotion. The whales promptly developed infected blisters and soon died.
Billy Smart's first dolphins arrived from the USA in the summer of 1969, caught off Florida by Jerry Mitchell and the ever-present Reg Bloom. In 1977 a financially ailing Billy Smart, also beset by family squabbles, sold-out to Don Robinson's Trident Television, and six years later Windsor once again changed hands, coming into the possession of Southbrook and City Holdings. The latest owner is entrepreneur John Rigby who purchased the park for 23 million pounds in January 1989. In total, from its founding to the present day, at least 24 dolphins have known the pools of Windsor Safari Park, and at least 14 have died, 10 during the six-year tenure of Trident Television. Such estimates however may once again be far off the mark, since Klinowska reports, apparently without sarcasm, that "in the changes of ownership, animal records at Windsor appear to have gone astray."
When the dolphin controversy first broke out with a vengeance in 1984, the managing director of Windsor Safari Park, Andrew Haworth-Booth, maintained that dolphinariums were constantly improving and gaining valuable experience in husbandry. Ten or fifteen years earlier, he was quoted as saying, there may have been a valid case for protests against animal welfare abuse. "There were quite a few cowboys around then. They would come along, dig a hole in a car park and stick a couple of dolphins in it. It's no wonder they didn't live very long. But people like that haven't stayed in the industry." If only that were true. Today, under the supervision of General Manager and veteran dolphin dealer Terry Nutkins, Windsor has the most overcrowded pools in the U.K. The main rectangular display pool, 26m long, 14m wide and 3.5m deep is shared by 5 adult bottlenose dolphins, 2 calfs, and 1 killer whale owned by the world's largest animal dealing company, International Animal Exchange. One side of the pool is divided into four holding pens used to "store" the animals either during shows, training, behavioural problems, punishment, or maintenance. They measure just 2.6 x 3.5 x 1.5m deep. Doug Cartlidge, a former head trainer here, notes that "animals have been observed to be locked in pen areas, even when shows were completed and no training or any other activity was being carried out in the main pool area." In some cases, confining the dolphins to these minuscule holding pens was not an oversight on the part of the trainers, but a deliberate attempt to punish the animals. Writes Cartlidge: "I have been informed and shown documentation that animals have been disciplined for poor performances etc., by being locked away in pens. In addition, feed cuts have been regularly made as punishment."
During Margaret Klinowska's official enquiry on behalf of the government and taxpayer, all of the existing dolphinaria reported ambitious plans to modernise and improve their facilities. This was hardly astonishing, given the industry's acute defensiveness following several years of scathing publicity in the media and critical scrutiny by organizations such as Greenpeace and the RSPCA. But it was the style rather than the substance of their proposals which aroused curiosity. It was as though they had been tailor-made, not to conform to realities, but to appease and impress the government reviewer who, in her professional capacity, already harboured a certain degree of favouritism towards the concept of the captive dolphin - as long as their captivity could be justified in the name of science or education. The task of the industry was to convince Klinowska - and the public - that the industry's brutality was a thing of the past, and even then caused not by greed or the dolphins' inherent unsuitability for captivity, but simply by inexperience in animal husbandry. Predictably, euphemism and pretension once again reached cloud nine, with dolphinarium managers portraying themselves as the "curators" of "zoological aquaria", responsible establishments which promise to play a vital role in education, science and conservation. By appearing before her as compliant and reasonable, the soul of respectability, the dolphin circus hoped to pre-empt the harshest measures against the industry which Klinowska might have been obliged to recommend. All in all, it amounted to yet another ingenuous scene in the industry's kaleidoscope of illusion, even though, behind the Potemkin facade, those zoological aquaria are still no more than glorified amusement parks.
The masquerade of dolphinarium science was nowhere more evident than at Whipsnade Park, though Klinowska seems to have been well and truly dazzled by the illusion. "Whipsnade would like to build a large breeding complex," she enthused, "stocked with animals of appropriate age from the same wild social group, near the existing dolphinarium, retaining the old pool for performances." Mr Victor Manton seems to have been the author of this proposal. As "Curator" of Whipsnade's Water Mammals Exhibit and employed in one capacity or another since the dolphinarium's founding, he is also a respected board member of the European Association of Aquatic Mammals (EAAM), and has been Editor of the organisation’s journal "Aquatic Mammals" since 1972. "I don't like commercial exploitation," Manton was quoted as saying when the dolphin controversy blew up in 1984. "I don't agree with making dolphins sing 'Happy Birthday' or dress up in funny clothes." He does however defend the keeping of dolphins in the name of science, and with a Nelsonian eye, conveniently claims that it cannot be proved conclusively that dolphins die prematurely in captivity. "No one knows how long a dolphin lives in the wild," he is quoted as saying. "The claims that some dolphins can live 40 years are inconclusive." Quoted by John May in the Observer, Manton declared: "We are not involved in commerce. We are part of a scientific and educational trust whose covenant is to introduce new and curious specimens to the general public. That is our major justification." Despite such self-esteem, the dolphin show at Whipsnade, prior to giving up the ghost in the summer of 1988, generally followed the same banal pattern as everywhere else, with as many 'facts' thrown to the audience as dead fish to the dolphins.
Fearful that the dolphin import ban might be extended indefinitely, nearly all of the dolphinaria proposed the construction of "breeding and rearing areas" - knowing full well that if Klinowska wanted dolphin breeding she would also have to recommend lifting the import prohibition so that the establishments could first of all form viable breeding populations. Ostensibly to reduce pressure on wild populations, breeding could also be utilised - as it is today whenever a dolphin calf is born - to prove that the animals are happy in captivity. Perhaps, being a confirmed pragmatist, Klinowska believed that she should encourage the dolphin industry to reform itself, using carrot and stick. And yet is this really pragmatism, or merely vain hopes and sophistry? Dolphinaria are scientifically and educationally untenable and even Klinowska - though she has tried persistently - cannot squeeze a square peg into a round hole. Notwithstanding Pilleri's "inherent contradiction" of keeping in cramped conditions, creatures accustomed to vast open spaces, the litany of continuing abuse, exploitation, and systematic deceit on the part of the industry, must automatically disqualify it from any supposed role in education or science, which, in theory at least, should have some relation to honesty and truth. To pretend otherwise is to turn reality on its head, and indeed, during the government enquiry, this was the star turn of the dolphin circus.
Accusations of "conflict of interest" were heard repeatedly against Klinowska. Declared veteran conservationist Ian McPhail, European Co-ordinator of the International Fund for Animal Welfare: "From the very beginning it was professed by the government that the consultant of the investigation would be independent and impartial. Margaret Klinowska was eminently unsuited for this task. Almost her entire career has been dependent upon research on captive dolphins and she was therefore highly unlikely to come out in favour of meaningful restrictions or abolition, whatever the evidence in favour of such action. We protested to Waldegrave over the choice, we said this loud and clear, but to no avail."
Once the enquiry was under way, it became increasingly evident that Klinowska was consistently evading the very terms of reference for which the review had been initiated in the first place, namely, can the import and display of live cetaceans be justified in terms of education, science and captive breeding? These parameters were arrived at expressly because of EEC Council Regulation 3626/82, which specifically forbids the import of dolphins and whales into member states for purely commercial purposes. Indeed, it must be stressed that Klinowska's attempts to improve the lot of cetaceans already held captive actually lay well beyond the jurisdiction of the Review. Yet by focussing much of her attention on mortality rates, optimum pool sizes and water management, the continuation of the dolphin industry, albeit under stricter controls, became a fait accompli. Thus, although Klinowska concluded that "it would be difficult to justify U.K. dolphinaria on educational, research or breeding grounds", with certain improvements, "such establishments could meet professional standards in all three areas and make significant contributions." This was despite the fact that the Review's consultant educationalists voiced grave doubts as to the educational value of such establishments. The Review attributed the following comments to one consultant: "The claim that a particular exhibition intended to promote and preserve commercial interests has specific and valuable educational spin-offs should be treated with caution. The crude and demeaning use of music in the Flamingo Land show together with its 'show biz' commentary exemplified. . . a lack of sensitivity to the status of wildlife and demeaned the relationship between humans and animals." Klinowska went on to admit that "the experts are concerned that the unnatural, anthropomorphic exhibition of animals as performers, may be merely showing the majority who witness the displays that the animals' existence is legitimated only by their ability to meet the demands for human entertainment. This is considered to be anti-educational." Not withstanding such expert testimony however, Klinowska concludes that "there seems to be no reason why professional education about the animals, their habitat and conservation cannot be provided by dolphinaria." But Klinowska is wrong, for one very simple reason, a reason that was quite lucidly expounded by one educationalist: "A truly educational experience of dolphinaria would be self-defeating, in that it would help children to realise that the importation, confinement, treatment and exploitation of dolphins and whales for the purpose of entertainment was against the natural order of things."
As it is, education in the dolphinarium is inevitably reduced to mere deception, a junk-food cocktail in which a few bland facts and figures are grudgingly blended into a circus-style concoction where dolphins wear straw-hats and sunglasses or have their teeth scrubbed with outsize toothbrushes. Take the show at Knowsley dolphinarium which was cited by Klinowska as a "representative example because it contains the widest range of information." The commentary, interspersed with the usual banal dolphin tricks, merely drags educational credibility into the realms of farce, a kind of latter-day Pathe Newsreel patriotic to the cause of the industry: "Sooty, our youngest member, is nine years old. She was featured on a TV series called Animal Magic with Terry Nutkins. Three years ago, Terry brought Sooty out of Japan, and at that time the Japanese fishermen were slaughtering the dolphins and if Sooty had not been rescued and brought into captivity, she would have been eaten as dolphin meat."
Klinowska brought the same standards of scientific methodology to bear when she recommended that scientific "research should be an integral part of the keeping of cetaceans." This was in spite of many submissions of evidence which supported the Pilleri view that the study of dolphins kept against their will in stressful, artificial conditions can only provide artificial scientific results. Furthermore, Klinowska never adequately explained how such envisaged in-depth scientific investigations could be fitted-in to an already hectic entertainment schedule, some establishments holding up to eight dolphin shows a day. Apart from the more innocuous forms of research proposed, focusing on such aspects as behaviour and feeding, Klinowska also hinted at more invasive studies. In discussing the potential impact of the Animals (Scientific Procedures) Bill, she stated that "such research animals must be kept in licensed premises and may be required to be destroyed by recognised humane procedures at the termination of an experiment." According to CITES transaction statistics, from 1980 to 1983 alone, 157 live cetaceans were traded between nations to satisfy the curiosities of science. Although some of these dolphins - their owners conveniently exploiting CITES loopholes - may well have become no more than circus animals, others undoubtedly ended their days in the nightmare of the laboratory tank and the specially designed strait-jackets which facilitate various forms and methods of vivisection. One need only recall the distinguished career of Prof. René Guy Busnel, who, in his Paris laboratories, gained a reputation for "cutting up dolphins like sausages", sacrificing at least ten animals every year in his obsessive and ultimately futile quest to learn the secrets of dolphin sonar. Rather more benignly perhaps, there was the Frankenstein named "Kuri," which science created at an aquarium in Kanagawa prefecture south of Tokyo. Proclaimed as "the world's only hybrid offspring of a whale and a dolphin", this engineered freak of nature was born in May 1985 to great acclaim by the crowds, only to die of pneumonia a few days later.
In the same extraordinary way in which she was able to ignore her own evidence, Klinowska also came out in favour of dolphinaria as potentially successful breeding establishments. Although conceding that "the breeding of cetaceans in captivity has not been particularly successful or reliable in any part of the world", she went on to portray the survival of three calves at Windsor as evidence of a significant improvement in husbandry. This was despite the fact that out of 24 known cetacean births in Britain - at least eight conceived in the wild before capture - 22 died either as miscarriages, stillbirths, premature births, or, within weeks, succumbed to disease or were drowned by the mothers. Furthermore, little or no credence was given to well-grounded scientific reports which concluded that to produce second generation animals with a minimum starting colony of a male and 12 females, it would cost in excess of $1 million - a sum that not even the richest dolphinarium in Europe could afford.
Lobbying Power
At centre stage of the dolphin circus' remarkable act of turning reality upside-down during the course of the government Review was the European Association of Aquatic Mammals (EAAM). Although regularly used as a password of respectability - even by distinguished member Margaret Klinowska - the EAAM is in fact scarcely more than a lobbying organisation for the dolphin industry. Over the years, the shrewder members of the Association have pushed for the adoption of universal guidelines to forestall government attempts to impose stricter ones, at the same time hoping that the more disreputable dealers and showmen will be put out of business, if only because they invariably cast their grotesque shadow over the entire industry. The EAAM's Standards for Establishments Housing Bottlenose Dolphins, for instance, recommends minimum pool dimensions and offers suggestions on hygiene, feeding and health. Klinowska did, in part, recommend the adoption of those EAAM guidelines. Much to the chagrin of the Association however, Klinowska, to her credit, did not quite grant the wish-list they had so fervently hoped she would. Complained a bitter Mike Riddell, Secretary of the EAAM, upon learning that the educational content of the shows would have to be drastically improved: "It would seem wrong to oblige the average citizen to sit through a pedantic lecture with diagrams, charts etc and forget the unforgettable experience of seeing, hearing and smelling another living creature, such as the dolphin or killer whale. . . This intellectual snobbery should not stop dolphinaria from continuing to bring science to the lay-man, without being turned into boring classrooms." One needs to look no further than his own Antibes Marineland to see just what ringmaster Riddell means. There, the orca whale spectacle is accompanied by blasting rock music while the combined dolphin and sea lion show is probably the most anthropomorphic in the whole of Europe, the algae-stained pools, some with peeling blue paint, set against brightly coloured stage scenery depicting a nursery-rhyme village. The mischievous antics of the sea lion, "Slicky", come complete with an affected piped oratory almost identical to a Disney cartoon character. This contrasts with the cool, impassive, military-style efficiency of the Marineland administration, with walkie-talkie equipped trainers and guards patrolling the grounds. Not that Marineland, founded by cigarillo baron Roland de la Poype, has entirely forgotten the call of conservation or science. In Marineland's glossy brochure it is written: "Our dolphins will not be harpooned and used as pet-food, and our seals will not be turned into expensive fur coats or fluffy toys, but others will. Splash, Kim, Chou-Chou, their brothers and kin, thank you for the interest you have shown towards their problems." As "the only marine zoo in Europe", over the years Marineland has tried to maximise the species contained in its animal menagerie. Some years ago, Roland de la Poype became fascinated by scientific research which seemed to suggest that the Mediterranean bottlenose was more sensitive and intelligent than its Gulf of Mexico cousin, but Marineland's subsequent attempts to capture specimens in the straits between Malaga and Gibraltar went disastrously wrong. "It was an experiment," Roland de la Poype was later quoted as saying, "but we presumed that dolphins with higher intelligence would be more docile." Five dolphins were apparently captured without difficulty and were quickly transported to Malaga for an onward flight to Nice. At this point, the delicate animals went into a state of shock. They struggled and reared in their transportation slings, hit-out violently with their flippers and gasped for breath. Trainer Martin Padley injected them with sedatives, but for one dolphin it was already too late; it had apparently already died from the sheer terror of the experience. When the surviving dolphins were at last put in one of Marineland's pools, they were so weak from the journey that they could barely stay afloat. Several days later, listlessly circling the pool, the animals still hadn't become adjusted to their new surroundings. After much hesitation, Marineland's management, fearing that they would soon have four dead dolphins on their hands, as well as a major scandal, decided to return the animals to the sea. Whether they lived or died is open to question.
Today, the Marineland menagerie not only includes two killer whales and seven dolphins, but also two elephant seals, and various other species of phocid. As I relate in my book The Monk Seal Conspiracy, one of Mike Riddell's driving ambitions, supported by the French government and the EEC Commission, is to capture critically-endangered Mediterranean monk seals, ostensibly for captive breeding, and put them on public display at Marineland. Although monk seals have never been known to breed successfully in captivity, the plan, if initiated, would seem to confer upon Marineland the much-coveted credibility of being a fully-fledged zoo, and not, as the neighbouring children's playground and 'Aquasplash' seem to suggest, simply a glorified amusement park.
The EAAM's annual general meetings are itinerant circus-like affairs which, for each occasion, gather at a different dolphinarium or theme park, from Duisburg in Germany, to Loro Parque in Tenerife. They serve as a convenient rallying point for the industry, gathering together many of the European dolphin owners, dealers and trainers, as well as various scientists representing such esteemed institutions as the University of Cambridge, Münster University, St. Hild's College, Oxford, and the Max Planck Institute in Germany. Also much in evidence are the representatives of major European insurance brokerages which, for astronomical premiums, are still prepared to grant life insurance policies for whales and dolphins. The gatherings are completed by the dolphin owners themselves, such personalities as James Tiebor of Münich, European representative of the International Animal Exchange and manager of the Florida Dolphin Show, Wolfgang Gewalt, the intrepid dolphin catcher and director of Duisburg Zoo, dolphin dealer René Duss of the Ocean Life Company, Peter Bössenecker and his Société Biologique des Caraibes, Terry Nutkins of Windsor Safari Park, "government-approved" dolphin catching vet Jay Sweeney of Dolphin Services International, and the notorious Conny Gasser of Conny's Flipper Show in Switzerland. Besides the usual "compelling" scientific programme, "Get Together Party" and the "Guided Tour" through whichever dolphinarium or amusement park the conference is being held, "Business Meetings" are also a regular fixture. Although conference sessions are open to the public, these unofficial seances which invariably take place at the same time are strictly barred to both casual observers and associate members. Critics portray the organisation as a rogues' gallery and say that its main aim is to create a front of respectability for the dolphin trade whilst acting as a co-ordinating body for its business interests. One persistent complaint is that David Taylor's Presidency of the EAAM and his involvement in all aspects of the industry, including the buying and selling of dolphins, gives rise to a potential conflict of interest since his main occupation - to care for the health and welfare of dolphins and whales in captivity - also includes the issuing of health certificates which are used as a kind of guarantee for sales purposes. Both Taylor and his associate Andrew Greenwood habitually deny any participation in the dolphin catching business. But in his 1985 article in GEO, German journalist Udo Tschimmel relates how their partner, Dr. Martin Dinnes, applied in writing for a catching and export license for Mexican dolphins. Included in his letterhead, as part of the International Zoo Veterinary Group, were the names of Taylor and Greenwood. Tschimmel also contends that Taylor earns regular commissions from Lloyds whenever he brings them a new cetacean life-insurance policy, and receives additional fees by acting as an intermediary in purchases and sales from one dolphinarium to another.
Reached by telephone, David Taylor informed me that he would only consider answering written questions and only then if they were of a purely technical nature. "If on the other hand they have to do with personal, particular problems of clients, we won't divulge that any more than a doctor would reveal information about a patient because it's none of your business." High ethics indeed, until one realises that it is not the patient's privacy Taylor is respecting but that of the patient's owners. They of course have every reason to insist on confidentiality - the reason a captive whale is suffering from pernicious frostbite for instance, or why a dolphin belonging to one of his Italian clients perished after being carted around in a circus-style travelling show.
An Anathema of Ethics
Controversy surrounding the EAAM effectively caused a split in the organisation in 1987, with the more objective scientists and conservationists, concerned that the EAAM had become increasingly dominated by the captive cetacean lobby, joining the newly formed European Cetacean Society. Founded by the respected Portuguese cetologist Paulo de Santos, its aims are to encourage the study and conservation of cetaceans in their natural habitat.
There can be little doubt that the Klinowska report was impressive in its in-depth research into the fate of individual dolphins held by U.K. dolphinaria since the early seventies, its damning evidence of animal welfare abuse and of the educational and scientific irrelevancy of such establishments. But when it came to results and recommendations, Klinowska revealed the anthropocentrism of today's reductionist approach to science, and its quantitative rather than qualitative judgements. It is thus that 'pragmatism', a guiding principle of Klinowska's Review, and a favourite catchword of government, establishment science and the business world alike, becomes little more than an alibi for continued exploitation. Moral considerations are regarded almost as an anathema simply because, in Klinowska's words, "ethical beliefs cannot be quantified" by clinical scientific methodology. They are therefore conveniently dismissed. Indeed, although almost 250 pages long, the Klinowska report dedicates just two and a half pages to the subject of "Ethics," effectively revealing that it is in chronically short supply not only in modern science but also in the dolphin industry.
Besides studiously avoiding her terms of reference, it also came as shock to conservationists that much of the impressive evidence compiled in the Klinowska report seemed to have no bearing on its ultimate conclusions. The juggling of statistics to 'prove' that mortality rates of cetaceans in captivity are approximate to those of the animals in the wild was particularly galling since even Klinowska herself admitted that there were so many variables and inconsistencies involved - not least of all the refusal to include the numerous anonymous dolphins whose fate remained undiscovered - that such figures could not be reliable. But if that is indeed the case, why pass off impressive though inherently faulty algebraic equations as precise science? Declared Kieran Mulvaney, then director of the Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society: "Klinowska failed to make proper use of some submissions of evidence - including some data which seemed to show that the mortality rate of orcas, for example, was approximately ten times higher in captivity than in the wild. This would seem to provide a strong argument in favour of a complete ban on the keeping of cetaceans in captivity."
Klinowska however would not compromise on pool size. Following the publication of her report in July 1986, Secretary of State for the Environment William Waldegrave, announced that Britain's six dolphinaria would face closure unless pool sizes were doubled, captive breeding programmes instituted, education radically improved, and scientific research co-ordinated. The industry had until November 1991 to implement these measures. Until then, imports of cetaceans would continue to be blocked. Pools for dolphins, the report concluded, should provide a minimum of 1000 cubic metres for up to five animals. No pool should be narrower than 7m or shallower than 3.5m, and at least a third of each pool should be at least 7m deep. For killer whales, pools should have a minimum volume of 20,000 cubic metres for up to five animals. No pool should be narrower than 15m or shallower than 7.5m, and at least a third of each pool should be at least 15m deep.
Such pronouncements came as a severe shock to the industry, which despite its attempts to woo Klinowska suddenly faced daunting expenditure in reconstruction. The shock also reverberated throughout Europe, with the fear that the recommendations might well set a precedent for legislation throughout EEC member states. Indeed, suddenly, after the rosy prognosis, the outlook seemed distinctly bleak. While some dolphinaria already met or exceeded the new volume requirements, none complied with the new depth recommendations. A fuming Andrew Haworth-Booth, then Managing Director of Windsor Safari Park, stated: "We consider the recommendations regarding volumes and depths for pools to be totally unrealistic. They far exceed those laid down by the European Association of Aquatic Mammals." Haworth-Booth's dismay was understandable, given the fact that Windsor would have to rip-up its 3.5m deep combined dolphin and orca pool, make it deeper by another 3.5m and also construct a brand new whale pool. "We intend to make representations to the DoE's Steering Committee," said Haworth-Booth. He was not the only one. In what might be considered as part of the whole ritual, the Steering Committee was poised to water down Klinowska's already-diluted recommendations.
At first, animal welfare organizations had greeted the Klinowska report with barely concealed glee, not because it adequately addressed the plight of captive cetaceans, but because they felt confident that the stringent recommendations on pool size would force most of the dolphinaria out of business, in other words, a ban by any other name. This supposition seemed to be confirmed when Knowsley's dolphinarium closed down in 1987, followed by Whipsnade's pretentious "Order Cetacea" exhibit in the summer of 1988. With the animal welfarists busy counting their unhatched chickens, the Steering Committee was hard at work unravelling some of the threads of Klinowska's arguments, evidently paying more attention to business interests than the welfare of the captive cetaceans. The final result only tended to magnify the pro-industry aspects of Klinowska's recommendations, particularly the demonstrably spurious claim that dolphinaria can and should play a vital role in education and captive breeding. While the Report of the Steering Committee, published in August 1988, endorsed Klinowska's recommendations on minimum pool dimensions for dolphins, those for killer whales were drastically scaled down from 20,000 cubic metres to just 12,000 cubic metres. No reason was given beyond that of financial considerations for the industry. Furthermore, the Steering Group went on to state that "the welfare of captive animals in the U.K. is considered to be adequately covered by existing national legislation." This was despite repeated violations of the Zoo Licensing Act 1981, and continuing animal abuse - from keeping dolphins in solitary confinement, to tipping neat chemicals into the pool water. In considering the thorny issue of education, the Steering Committee, reacting to Klinowska's decidedly unscientific assertion that "there is a certain 'something'" in being close to a living wild animal which cannot be reproduced by any other means, concluded that education could be classified as the "less formal absorption of knowledge and experience due to the exposure to live animals." This alone would eventually qualify dolphinaria for exemption under EEC regulation 3626/82, even though surveys show that visitors are still coming away from the shows believing that dolphins are fish. Indeed, with the quite incredible and arbitrary assumption that "many of the concerns about the physical and mental welfare of the animals were. . . not well-founded," it would thus be business as usual for the dolphin circus once they had renovated their pools. Put in a nutshell, U.K. dolphinaria, to qualify for further supplies of their mortality-prone charges, would simply have to put on a better show of education, science and breeding.
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THE ROSE-TINTED MENAGERIE – World Copyright © 1990 William M. Johnson /
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