Beyond the Sanctuary Label

A local Karen elder in a traditional red tunic smiling with staff members at Chai Lai Orchid eco-lodge in Chiang Mai

Rethinking What Ethical Elephant Tourism Means

When people hear that an elephant is “rented,” they may instinctively assume that something unethical is happening.

And we understand why.

For many Western visitors, the word rental brings to mind a commercial transaction: an animal being treated as a commodity, temporarily hired out for profit, and separated from the people who own her.

But that assumption deserves a closer look.

Is the most ethical place for an elephant necessarily a Western-style sanctuary? Does removing an elephant from her family automatically make her life better? And does keeping tourists at a distance automatically mean an elephant has better welfare?

These are important questions—but they are not questions that can be answered simply by looking at whether an elephant is owned, rented, touched, or visited by tourists.

Animal welfare research increasingly emphasizes the elephant’s actual physical and psychological wellbeing: health, nutrition, freedom to express important natural behaviours, social relationships, appropriate exercise, rest, and the absence of fear, pain and distress. Research in Thailand has also found considerable variation between elephant camps, meaning that the welfare of an individual elephant cannot be determined simply by the category of tourism venue she happens to be in. (MDPI)

At Chai Lai Orchid, we believe there is another question that is too often left out of the conversation:

What happens to the people and communities who have lived alongside these elephants for generations?

We are a social business. That means we believe tourism should create shared prosperity—not simply extract experiences, animals, land, culture and wealth from local communities for the benefit of outsiders.

For many Karen families in northern Thailand, elephants are not interchangeable tourism assets. They are part of family histories, livelihoods, cultural identity and relationships passed between generations.

Research among Karen mahouts in northern Thailand describes these relationships as a form of “multispecies culture,” in which people and elephants have lived alongside one another for generations and developed extensive knowledge about elephant health, behaviour, food and care. (ScienceDirect)

That knowledge should not be romanticized—traditional knowledge does not automatically guarantee good welfare. But neither should it be dismissed simply because it is not Western.

a Mahout and his elephant in the river

The question isn't simply: “Who owns the elephant?”

The better question is:

“What system gives this individual elephant the best chance of a healthy, socially connected, enriching and secure life?”

Sometimes that may mean a sanctuary or rescue centre.

Sometimes it may mean an elephant remaining with the family that has cared for her for generations.

The ethical answer depends on the individual elephant and the quality of care—not on a single business model.

Indigenous ownership matters

There is a difficult history behind conservation and animal welfare around the world. Indigenous and local communities have frequently been told that outsiders know what is best for their animals, forests and livelihoods. In some places, conservation has even resulted in communities losing access to land or traditional livelihoods. That history should make us cautious about assuming that the solution to an animal-welfare problem is always to remove the animal from local people and place her under the control of an outside organization.

Supporting elephant welfare should not require erasing the people who have cared for elephants for generations. A model in which an elephant remains with her family can allow that family to retain ownership, knowledge and decision-making power while creating an income from responsible tourism.

That is not automatically ethical—but it can be an important alternative to extracting elephants and economic value from their communities. There is another reality that is easy to overlook when we talk about elephant ownership. When a Karen family can no longer afford the enormous cost of caring for an elephant, their choices can become painfully limited. They may have little option but to sell their elephant or place her with a camp that offers them income but may not provide the level of welfare they want for their animal. This is not necessarily a choice made because the family values profit over the elephant—it can be a choice made because they are trying to survive and keep an animal they love fed and cared for. Chai Lai Orchid is designed to remove that heartbreaking choice from the equation. By providing families with a reliable, ongoing income while allowing them to retain ownership and remain involved in their elephant’s care, we help make it economically possible for them to keep their elephants rather than being forced to hand them over to whoever can pay. In that sense, our rental model is not about putting a price on an elephant; it is about putting a sustainable value on the lifelong care of the elephant—and giving her family another choice.

Renting can keep economic value in the community

If a tourism operation purchases an elephant outright, the family receives a transaction and gives up ownership of an important long-term livelihood asset. A rental relationship can work differently. The family retains ownership while receiving ongoing income. The mahout can continue working with the elephant. Tourism revenue can help pay for food, veterinary care, land, shelter and other costs associated with lifelong elephant care. This matters because good elephant care is very expensive.

We know the word “rescue” does not automatically mean “better welfare”

There are elephants who absolutely need rescuing. Some have experienced serious abuse, exploitation, trafficking or neglect and require permanent intervention. But it does not follow that every elephant who works in tourism needs to be rescued. Research has documented both serious welfare problems and significant differences in management practices between facilities. (MDPI) The appropriate response is therefore not to put every elephant into the same category.

It is to look at the elephant in front of us.

Is she healthy?

Does she have adequate food and water?

Can she rest?

Does she have meaningful social contact with other elephants?

Can she forage and express important natural behaviours?

Is she handled appropriately?

Does she show signs of chronic stress or stereotypic behaviour?

Does she have access to qualified veterinary care?

These questions tell us far more about welfare than whether a tourist has touched her.

“No touching” is not a complete definition of ethical tourism

There is nothing inherently wrong with giving elephants distance from tourists.. In some circumstances, it may be the most appropriate approach. But physical distance alone is not a welfare standard. Research has found stereotypic behaviours among elephants in tourist camps in Chiang Mai, and researchers have emphasized that management practices—including exercise, social contact, housing, handling and health care—can significantly affect welfare. (ScienceDirect)

Conversely, research into elephant tourism in Thailand has found that some tourism activities are not necessarily harmful when they are appropriately managed and when the physical, physiological and psychological needs of elephants are met. (MDPI)

So perhaps the question should not be:

“Did the tourist touch the elephant?”

It should be:

“What kind of life does this elephant experience every day?”

Local expertise deserves to be part of the conversation

There is sometimes an uncomfortable assumption in Western animal-tourism discussions that ethical knowledge must come from Western organizations. But Karen mahouts have developed extensive knowledge of elephants through generations of close observation and care. Research has documented Karen ethnoveterinary knowledge, including knowledge of plants, nutrition and elephant health. (ScienceDirect)

That does not mean every traditional practice should be accepted without question.

Western veterinary science, elephant behavioural research and animal-welfare science have enormous value. So do the accumulated observations and practical knowledge of people who have spent their lives caring for individual elephants. The strongest welfare models should bring these forms of knowledge together—not assume that one must replace the other.

Relationships matter

An elephant is not a piece of equipment that can simply be transferred from one facility to another without consequence. Mahouts often develop detailed knowledge of an individual elephant: her temperament, appetite, routines, preferences, physical condition and warning signs. Research on Thai elephant caregivers has found that many mahouts describe their elephants in familial terms, reflecting the depth of these human–elephant relationships. (MDPI)

Keeping an elephant with an experienced caregiver she already knows can therefore be an important consideration when deciding what is best for her.

A rental model can create different incentives

There is also an economic argument for separating ownership from tourism access. If elephants become highly valuable commodities to buy and sell, the market itself can create incentives for trading animals. A rental model can instead place economic value on ongoing care.

The family retains ownership. The elephant stays with the family. The tourism operator pays for access to an experience—not ownership of the animal. The financial relationship can therefore reward keeping an elephant healthy and well cared for over the long term. Buying an elephant and calling it a rescue is not automatically a welfare solution.

The elephant tourism industry contains facilities with very different standards of care, and research has repeatedly emphasized the importance of evaluating actual management and welfare rather than relying on labels. (ScienceDirect)

That is why we believe the conversation needs to move beyond simple labels such as “sanctuary,” “rescue,” “rental,” “no-touch” or “ethical.”

Look at the elephant.

Look at her body condition.

Look at her behaviour.

Look at her social life.

Look at her environment.

Look at the relationship with her mahout.

Look at where tourism money flows.

We believe the future of ethical elephant tourism should ask a more difficult—and ultimately more respectful—question:

Can we improve elephant welfare without assuming that the people who have lived alongside elephants for generations must first be removed from the equation?

We believe the answer can be yes.