Marineland sits on the edge of Niagara Falls, a relic of a different era when families came to gape at orcas and belugas performing tricks. Today, the park is closed to the public, its lights dimmed, its tanks mostly empty. Yet the whales remain, silent witnesses to decades of human fascination and exploitation. Among them, the belugas are the last of a long line of captive cetaceans in Canada, and their plight is both a moral and legal reckoning.

For decades, Marineland claimed it brought education and awareness of marine life to Canadians and tourists alike. The reality, as revealed over the last ten years, is more troubling. Since 2019, more than a dozen beluga whales have died at the facility under circumstances that have raised concern among veterinarians, animal welfare groups, and the public. Many were young, far from what should have been a full lifespan, and the explanations provided, while sometimes citing medical causes, fail to address the broader pattern. Photographs and drone footage of barren tanks, water quality issues, and the whales’ unusual behaviors suggest chronic stress and confinement that no educational benefit can justify. The deaths, taken in context, reveal not isolated accidents but the systemic consequences of keeping large, intelligent marine mammals in tanks.

Canada responded to such practices in 2019 by passing the Ending the Captivity of Whales and Dolphins Act. The law bans the breeding, acquisition, import, and export of cetaceans for entertainment. Existing captive animals were “grandfathered” under certain conditions, but new acquisitions or transfers for display are prohibited. In short, sale or export of the remaining belugas from Marineland is illegal. When Marineland recently applied to send its whales to an aquarium in China, the federal government denied the request. The law is unambiguous: the only permissible outcome is relocation to a sanctuary, not further captivity for human amusement.

Legal clarity, however, does not erase the ethical responsibility. These belugas were born or captured for human entertainment. They did not choose this life, and society now bears responsibility for their welfare. Ethics demand that we consider not only physical health but also psychological well-being. Belugas are social, intelligent, and sentient. Repeated confinement, environmental monotony, and loss of companions cause suffering that is both preventable and morally unacceptable. Our laws protect them from further exploitation, but ethical obligation compels us to act now to repair the harm already done.

The only credible path forward lies in the Nova Scotia Whale Sanctuary, being developed by the Whale Sanctuary Project in Port Hilford. This facility is designed as a coastal enclosure, allowing belugas and orcas to live in natural water while receiving veterinary care and human supervision. The sanctuary is not fully operational yet, and relocating large marine mammals is a complex, expensive, and logistically challenging process. Still, this project represents the only legal, ethical, and practical solution for Marineland’s remaining whales. No other facility in Canada can legally or humanely accommodate them, and any alternative that returns them to captivity or commercial display is prohibited under law and would violate ethical principles.

The urgency of the situation cannot be overstated. Marineland is closed to the public and financially strained. Without immediate support, the welfare of these whales is at risk. Government funding and oversight are essential to ensure the whales remain healthy during the transition period. Independent veterinarians and cetacean welfare experts must assess each animal, monitor conditions, and guide care until sanctuary relocation is possible. These steps are not optional; they are necessary to prevent further suffering and to ensure that the legal and ethical framework guiding this process is actually implemented.

Longer-term, the whales’ relocation to Nova Scotia should be accompanied by permanent decommissioning of Marineland’s marine mammal facilities. This is not merely about ending an era; it is about acknowledging responsibility. Marineland profited for decades from holding these whales in suboptimal conditions. It should bear the costs of relocation, long-term care, and veterinary support. Society, in turn, must recognize that the attraction of seeing whales perform tricks is no longer a justification for their suffering.

For the public, the story of Marineland is instructive. It is a reminder that what we once accepted as entertainment can be morally indefensible in retrospect. The law now codifies that view, but ethics demand we go further. The whales’ continued captivity is a human failure, and the only way to right it is through care, sanctuary, and accountability. The Nova Scotia project is more than a refuge; it is a statement that humans are capable of taking responsibility for the consequences of their curiosity, their amusement, and their commerce.

In the end, the last whales of Marineland are a test of our society’s commitment to justice for nonhuman animals. There is no alternative that is lawful, humane, and morally defensible. Relocation to the sanctuary, guided by expert care and public accountability, is the only path that respects both the law and the ethical duty we owe to these sentient creatures. In that effort, we find not only a solution but a measure of ourselves: the ability to act responsibly for those who cannot choose their own fate. For the belugas, the sanctuary is not a luxury – it is justice.