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Infographic examining the shortage of qualified sanctuary space for exotic animals and the challenges of finding appropriate lifelong care for animals surrendered, confiscated or rescued from private ownership and exploitation.

“The ‘Sanctuary Gap’: Reviewing the Research on Captive Wildlife Sanctuary Tourism.”
When is a “Sanctuary” Really a Sanctuary?

The Name on the Sign May Not Tell You.

The word sanctuary carries a powerful promise.

It suggests rescue. Safety. Refuge. A place where an animal that has already experienced exploitation, injury or displacement will finally be allowed to live with its needs placed first.

But does every facility calling itself a sanctuary fulfill that promise?

A 2025 peer-reviewed review published in Animals examines what researcher Siobhan I. M. Speiran calls the “sanctuary gap”—the surprisingly complicated landscape of wildlife sanctuaries and their relationship with tourism, animal welfare and conservation.

After reviewing research from multiple disciplines, the paper proposes something particularly useful for travelers:

Rather than assuming that all sanctuaries are alike, we should think of them along a spectrum.

At one end are facilities using the language of sanctuary while continuing to exploit wildlife.

At the other are places where the interests of the animals fundamentally determine how the facility operates.

And between them lies an important middle ground.

WHEN “SANCTUARY” BECOMES A MARKETING WORD:

One of the fundamental problems identified in the research is surprisingly simple:

The term “sanctuary” is not globally regulated.

That creates an opportunity for what researchers describe as greenwashing or humane-washing.

A wildlife attraction can use words such as sanctuary, rescue or rehabilitation to create the impression that visiting supports animal welfare—even when the underlying operation may compromise it.

The research describes these as greenwashed sanctuaries: attractions that invoke sanctuary primarily to attract tourists and generate revenue while failing to place animal welfare, conservation and their residents' interests at the center of their operations.

For travelers trying to make responsible choices, that presents an obvious problem.

You cannot determine how animals are treated simply by reading the sign at the entrance.

BUT TOURISM ITSELF ISN'T THE ENTIRE TEST

There is an important nuance.

A legitimate sanctuary does not necessarily have to be completely closed to visitors.

Some responsible sanctuaries conduct carefully controlled guided tours, educational programs or other limited forms of public access. Revenue from those activities may help fund lifelong care, rehabilitation, conservation and educational work.

Speiran describes some facilities occupying the middle of the proposed spectrum as “transitional sanctuaries.” These may offer paid tourism opportunities while genuinely improving animal welfare and supporting conservation.

The distinction is important.

The question isn't simply:

“Are visitors allowed?”

A better question is:

“What happens to the animals because visitors are allowed?”

Are animals required to perform?

Are they handled or positioned for photographs?

Does public access interfere with rehabilitation?

Are animals expected to approach visitors?

Does the facility alter an animal's routine to create a more entertaining experience?

Or are visitors expected to adapt to the animals—observing quietly, maintaining appropriate distances and accepting that an animal may choose not to be seen at all?

There is a profound ethical difference between allowing people to observe sanctuary animals and requiring sanctuary animals to entertain people.

WHEN THE ANIMAL COMES FIRST

At the far end of the paper's spectrum are what the author describes as “just sanctuaries.”

These facilities place animal agency, welfare and justice at the center of their philosophy. In the model proposed by the paper, they do not offer wildlife tours or public viewing of resident animals.

That doesn't mean education stops.

Education can occur through schools, community outreach, public programs, advocacy, citizen science, media and other forms of engagement that do not require animals to become tourist attractions.

It presents an idea that may initially seem counterintuitive in a tourism culture built around access:

Sometimes respecting an animal means accepting that we don't get to see it.

And for animals being rehabilitated for possible release, limiting human exposure can be particularly important. A sanctuary's obligation to prepare an animal for life in the wild should take precedence over a visitor's desire for an encounter.

RESCUE IS ONLY THE BEGINNING

Perhaps there is another useful way for travelers to think about sanctuary claims.

Rescue describes what happened to an animal.

Sanctuary should describe what happens afterward.

An animal may genuinely have been rescued from terrible circumstances.

But that fact alone doesn't tell us what its life looks like today.

Is the animal now protected from unnecessary public contact? Are its behavioral and social needs respected? Is breeding restricted? Is it bought, sold or commercially traded? Is it transported for entertainment or exhibition? Does it have meaningful opportunities to make choices about its surroundings and interactions?

Those questions tell us far more than the word rescued ever could.

LOOK BEYOND THE LABEL

The Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries provides one example of standards intended to distinguish legitimate sanctuary operations from exploitative attractions. GFAS-accredited sanctuaries prohibit commercial trade in animals, direct contact between the public and animals, disruptive tours that cause stress, and nonessential removal of animals from their enclosures for exhibition. Captive breeding is also generally prohibited.

Those standards reflect a larger principle:

The visitor experience should be designed around the animals—not the animals around the visitor experience.

A responsible sanctuary may educate people.

It may conduct carefully managed tours.

It may depend upon donors, volunteers or admission revenue to support its work.

But the presence of visitors should never transform the animals themselves into the product being sold.

PERHAPS THE REAL QUESTION ISN'T WHAT THE FACILITY CALLS ITSELF

When travelers encounter a wildlife attraction advertising itself as a sanctuary, perhaps the most important question isn't:

“Is this a sanctuary?”

Instead, ask:

“Who comes first here?”

If an animal must be touched, displayed, handled, photographed, transported, bred or made accessible to satisfy visitors, the answer may become increasingly clear.

But when visitors are expected to follow the animals' needs—keeping their distance, accepting limitations and understanding that animal welfare sometimes means seeing less rather than more—the relationship changes.

The tourist is no longer the center of the experience.

The animal is.

And perhaps that is what sanctuary was supposed to mean all along.

“SANCTUARY” SHOULDN'T BE A MARKETING WORD.

IT SHOULD BE A PROMISE TO THE ANIMALS.

Research source: Speiran, S.I.M. (2025).
“The ‘Sanctuary Gap’: Reviewing the Research on Captive Wildlife Sanctuary Tourism.” Animals, 15(4), 496.

KeepingWildlifeWild.org

Evidence • Education • Accountability

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