Opinion over what should be done with the 12,000-pound orca named Tilikum that was involved in the death of its trainer at SeaWorld is as diverse as it is ubiquitous.

Whether it is the idea that any animal that causes the death of a human should be euthanised or that this tragic incident demonstrates why animals should not be kept in captivity, it has aroused strong emotions in almost everyone commenting upon it.

Philip Hoare, author of the non-fiction book “The Whale,”, recently spoke candidly about our relationship with orcas, the toll captivity takes on whales, and the continued risk it poses for human beings.

Discussing whether there has been any prior history of orcas attacking humans, he suggested that rather than a demonstration of malice, the attack was an example of how the whales being overenthusiastic in their attempts to ‘play’ with humans.

“Well, other whales have been known to go too far in their play with humans. Pilot whales off Madeira, in the Atlantic, have been known to drag swimmers down to the depths, apparently heedless of their need for air.”

He tempered this romanticised view of the whale by citing the way they treat seals in the wild:

“Watch what an orca does with a seal kill. It’s tossed in the air – orcas often play with their food before eating it.”

But he was quick to point out that it is unlikely that Tilikum was acting out this behaviour with his trainer:

“No orca would regard a human as food. They’re much too smart for that. Their sonar can diagnose if a woman is pregnant, for heaven’s sake.”

Even though he thought it was unlikely to have been a malicious attack, he was sure that they were not the actions of a healthy whale:

“I think that Tilly’s behaviour on balance does indicate a kind of cetacean psychosis.”

A lot of the fallout of the incident has centred around questioning the ethics of keeping animals such as orcas in captivity. While much whale behaviour is still a mystery to us, there has been extensive observations made into the social behaviour of whales in the wild. Hoare believes that this is something that cannot be overlooked in the case of Tilikum.

“Well, here you’ve got species that are used to having an entire ocean – if not the watery world – in which to live and play. Dolphins – and an orca is just an overgrown dolphin, really – are addicted to play. It is an essential part of their social structure

“Take away the stimulus of that vast, three-dimensional, near-gravity-free environment, and the social structures they have built up over millennia, and it’s obvious you’re going to induce mental illness.”

While conservationists are generally against keeping orca’s in captivity, they are vehement in their opposition to making these animals perform. While Hoare does not see an inherent problem in tapping into these creature’s natural tendencies to play and perform, but that people should be aware of the risks involved.

“They want to please, like dogs. They need to exhibit creative behaviour. We’re artificially inducing that behaviour, to our own needs. Trainers do have their animals’ best interests at heart, of course, but you are only ever dealing with a wild animal, whose reactions are unpredictable, at base.”

One particularly interesting area that Hoare was able to shed light upon was the history involved in interactions between whales and humans:

“In Australia, in the 20th century, shore whalers at Eden, on the coast of New South Wales, cooperated with a pod of orca, led by a bull male named Old Tom. They would herd humpbacks, passing on their migration, south toward the Antarctic.”

“The orca would corral the unsuspecting great whales into the cup of Two-fold Bay, where the human hunters would then row out to harpoon the whales.”

“Sinking naturally to the shallow seabed, the orca would there be allowed to claim their prize: the humpback’s tongue, the only part of the animal they relished. A day later, the dead whale, bloated with gas, would rise to the surface for collection by the whalers.”

The treatment of orcas in captivity now is a long way from this mutually beneficial relationship where humans were interacting with the whales in their natural habitat. Hoare shared his first experience of seeing a whale in captivity.

“My first exposure to a living whale was at a safari park outside London, where Ramu, a newly captured orca, went through its routines. Even to a young boy, it was clear this wasn’t the right way to treat a wild animal.

“Imprisoned in its overgrown swimming pool, its proud, 6-foot dorsal fin had flopped over, a symptom of stress and a symbol of its detumescent state.”

Hoares closing comments provided a sobering insight into our interactions with the orcas, suggesting that it may take a tragedy such as this to give us the perspective required to look back on our history with the whales.

“We certainly seem to react to whales in a different way. I think it’s because of the paradoxical elusiveness of their nature. For all their massive size, we barely ever see them. We never know their reality. The latest research into cetacean intelligence places them only just after Homo sapiens, and above primates, in their capabilities. It’s that not-knowingness that leads us on. Also, our guilt.”

“We may feel the collective regrets of a collective history between our species. We know what we’ve done. The amazing thing is — though when it comes to human beings, I guess this is no surprise — that we go on doing it.”

ADOPT A DOLPHIN WITH WDCS