The Illusion of “Ethical” Elephant Tourism in Thailand
- David Booth

- 7 days ago
- 3 min read

Before our visit to Following Giants in Koh Lanta, we did our homework. We read reviews, compared models, and tried to piece together what “ethical elephant tourism” truly meant. On the surface, the sanctuary ticked many of the right boxes: no riding, no shows, and a strong narrative about respect and natural behaviour. But even with all the research in the world, something still felt unsettled. So when we went with our learners, we carried that healthy uncertainty with us and asked questions, often more than the guides anticipated.
There’s no escaping the fact that “ethical” has become a fashionable label in Thailand’s tourism industry. It looks good on signage and reassures visitors that they’re doing the right thing. Yet the deeper we looked, the more complicated the picture became. Removing the saddle is not the same as removing the system that allowed the saddle in the first place. Many camps may appear harmonious during visiting hours, but the real test of ethics happens after closing time — a side of the industry tourists rarely see. Across Thailand, it’s common for elephants to be chained at night, confined to small stalls, or controlled with the traditional bullhook (the ankus). These practices don’t vanish simply because a sanctuary stops advertising rides.
We didn’t witness mistreatment at Following Giants, but our broader understanding of the industry meant that we questioned everything, the mahout training methods, the night-time routines, the elephants’ autonomy, and the commercial pressures that shape their lives. What became apparent was that even the gentlest sanctuaries still operate within a wider system that cannot offer elephants what they truly need: vast space, complex social herds, migratory freedom, and a life not shaped by human expectation.
This is the sort of ethical complexity we bring into our Global Classroom, where we’ve never claimed to have all the answers, instead, we prioritise inquiry, reflection, and honest questioning. Our learners weren’t there to consume an “ethical experience”; they were there to look beneath the surface, to spot the tensions, to notice the contradictions, and to understand just how tangled human–animal relationships can be.
And this brings us to Lombok. One of the rich learning opportunities awaiting our learners in the next phase of the project is our partnership with MPAK, a local organisation dedicated to marine and turtle conservation. As with elephants in Thailand, turtle conservation in Indonesia exists within its own complexities, balancing tourism, local livelihoods, ecosystem fragility, and cultural perspectives. Turtle hatcheries, like elephant sanctuaries, vary enormously in their ethics and impact. Some are world-leading; others unintentionally cause harm despite good intentions.
This is why we’ll be approaching our time with MPAK not simply as volunteers, but as mindful investigators. We’ll be asking:
How do we know conservation work is genuinely beneficial?
Who benefits most — the animals, the ecosystem, or the tourists?
Where does education end and entertainment begin?
And how do we ensure that our presence helps rather than disrupts?
Just as we did in Thailand, we will encourage our learners to observe with curiosity, to question respectfully, and to understand that ethical practice is rarely black and white. Conservation, whether on land or in the ocean, is shaped by economics, culture, ecology, and human desire, and to engage with it responsibly, we must be prepared to hold all of those truths at once.
Our visit to Following Giants didn’t give us neat answers, but it gave us something far more valuable: a framework for approaching ethical dilemmas with humility and clarity. As we move into Lombok and begin exploring marine conservation with MPAK, we carry that same approach with us.
If anything, the elephants have taught us this: Real ethical engagement begins with questions, not assumptions. And if we can help our learners carry that mindset into every corner of the world they step into, then the journey itself becomes the most meaningful education of all.



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