Chasing the Wild: The Ethics of Dolphin Tourism and the Role of Photography in Conservation

Around 4 years to be accepted and get this close face to face

The sun rises over the turquoise waters of Zanzibar, casting golden hues on the ocean's surface. Small wooden fishing boats, packed with tourists, speed towards a pod of dolphins. Excited voices, camera shutters, and the splash of hurried snorkelers disturb the morning calm. This scene, played out daily, is a stark reminder of how human fascination with marine life often comes at a cost.
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Recent documentaries have shed light on the uncontrolled pressure that dolphin populations in Zanzibar endure due to mass tourism. Swimmers chase them, boats corner them, and respect for their natural behavior is often disregarded. It is easy to condemn such practices, to label them as reckless or damaging. But in a world where marine life is increasingly under threat, are these encounters always the worst alternative? If not for tourism, would these same dolphins face an even darker fate—hunted for food, captured for aquariums, or turned into aphrodisiac powders, as is the case in parts of Asia?

Selective Outrage: A Double Standard in Wildlife Reporting​
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This issue extends beyond Zanzibar. If a TV network chooses to expose the human impact on marine wildlife, shouldn’t it also hold a mirror to other problematic practices elsewhere? Madagascar, for example, has a booming whale shark tourism industry. While some operators respect the animals, others encourage behavior that disrupts their natural movements. In French Polynesia, divers routinely make contact with bottlenose dolphins in Rangiroa, yet these interactions rarely spark media outrage. The question then arises: why are some forms of wildlife tourism vilified while others are glamorized? And why does mainstream media choose to highlight some issues while remaining silent on others?

Kind of things you see in French Polynesia....

The Instagram Effect: When Nature Becomes a Trophy

Social media has fueled the desire for up-close, dramatic encounters with wildlife. For many, the goal is no longer the experience itself but the validation that comes with posting it online. Whether it's tourists chasing dolphins for the perfect selfie or divers pushing ethical boundaries for an award-winning shot, the ocean is often reduced to a backdrop for human ego. The truth is, no documentary will stop irresponsible tourists from doing whatever it takes for a viral moment.

A Photographer’s Reflection: Ethics in Marine Photography

​Watching these reports, I can't help but reflect on my own journey as an underwater photographer. Why do I take these images? For likes? For recognition? No. I capture the ocean’s beauty to share its wonders, to tell its story, and to remind people why it deserves protection. The joy for me is not in the instant gratification of an image but in the hours spent observing, waiting, and earning the trust of marine life.
In Mayotte, I have the privilege of stepping into the ocean at dawn, swimming out from the shore, and simply waiting. I don’t chase animals—they come to me. Whether it's dolphins, turtles, or sharks, every approach is deliberate, respectful, and based on an understanding of their behavior. Over time, I have even learned to mimic certain movements—a circular swim pattern to communicate with turtles, subtle fin movements to signal to dolphins that I am not a threat. These techniques take patience and commitment, something a rushed tourist encounter will never replicate.

Is it the best way to appreciate the moment ?

The Race for the Perfect Shot: When Photography Becomes Exploitation​
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Beyond tourism, there is another conversation to be had—one about the pressure of wildlife photography competitions. In an industry that rewards the most striking, rare, and sensational images, photographers are sometimes tempted to cross ethical lines. Should an image of a dolphin staring directly into the lens be celebrated if it was only achieved by disturbing the animal? Should we admire a close-up of a whale shark if it was obtained by a diver who got too close? These are difficult questions, and perhaps ones best left for another article.

Nils using his camera to get Manta ID for Manta Trust

Manta ID using by marine biologistes

​Using Photography to Support Conservation Efforts
Photography has the power to go beyond simple aesthetic appeal and can play a vital role in conservation efforts. As photographers, we have the opportunity to make our work useful by collaborating with associations and scientists who are dedicated to protecting the natural world.
One powerful example is my friend Nils, who works with the Manta Trust to photograph manta rays for identification purposes. Each photo becomes a valuable data point, helping the organization track and catalogue manta populations based on their geographic location. This kind of collaboration ensures that our passion for underwater photography serves a greater purpose.
Instead of focusing solely on capturing the perfect shot to post on social media, we can choose to be more intentional and thoughtful about how our images are used. By connecting with conservation organizations and offering our skills for scientific documentation, we can make a meaningful difference. Let’s use our art to support research, raise awareness, and ultimately contribute to the preservation of marine life.
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The Story Behind a Whale Photo​

A few years ago, I was alone in the lagoon of Mayotte when I took a photo of a humpback whale. No one else was there—just me, the ocean, and this giant of the sea gliding peacefully through the crystal-clear waters. It was a rare moment, one of those encounters that stays with you forever.
Later, I sold that image through a stock photography agency. And sometime after, I found out that my photo—taken in Mayotte—had been used in a promotional booklet for whale-watching tourism... in Madagascar. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

This is the paradox of wildlife photography. You can capture an image with the utmost respect, yet once it’s out in the world, it can be repurposed, reshaped, and sometimes even used to promote practices that contradict your own ethics.
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That experience reinforced an important lesson: as photographers, we don’t just take pictures. We shape narratives. We influence perceptions. And that comes with responsibility.

Whale from Mayotte find on Madagascar Ads....

The Responsibility of Wildlife Photographers and Conservationists

There’s another discussion to be had here—about the role of photography competitions and the increasing drive for more sensational images. But that’s a topic for another day.

For now, my message is this: respect nature. Leave your GoPro aside and simply enjoy the moment, not for the likes, but for yourself. The most valuable memories are the ones you carry in your soul, not the ones you post online.
If you truly want to make a difference, go beyond fleeting experiences. Commit yourself to real conservation. Make it your profession. Follow ethical guidelines. And if you want to expose human impact on wildlife, be thorough—tell the full story, not just the convenient parts.

Because in the end, the most powerful legacy we can leave is in the awe of future generations—the wonder in their voices when they say, “I want this to last. I want my children to see what I have seen.”
Otherwise, don’t pretend to be a conservationist. Be one.