A: Not necessarily. It depends on how, by whom, and under what conditions it is done.
Elephant riding, when conducted under strict ethical guidelines and with proper oversight, is not inherently harmful to the animal. In fact, recent welfare research suggests that riding—if done correctly—can be part of a healthy, stimulating routine for captive elephants.
According to expert guidelines established by welfare groups like the Asian Captive Elephant Working Group (ACEWG) and ElefantAsia, riding should meet the following standards:
- Limited to short distances (e.g., up to 4 km/day)
- Performed on natural ground, under shade, during cooler hours
- Involving no more than two riders, with light, padded equipment that avoids pressure on the spine
- Reserved for elephants that are physically fit, have no spinal deformities, and display calm temperaments
- Guided without force, by experienced mahouts using verbal commands, not punishment
- Accompanied by access to water, rest, and food
In contrast, unethical riding practices—such as carrying heavy loads on concrete for long hours, in traffic and heat, with force or injury—should be unequivocally condemned.
Still, the question of elephant riding is about more than technique. It reflects deep tensions around human-animal relationships, moral judgment, and global power in the tourism industry. Whether one sees riding as ethical depends not only on science and animal health, but on broader ideas about freedom, labor, control, and care.
Let us examine this issue through three distinct ethical frameworks.
1. Animal Welfare: Judging by Impact, Not Appearances
From an animal welfare perspective, the key concern is the physical and psychological wellbeing of the elephant. Studies —including those by Schmid et al., Dunkel et al., and Bansiddhi et al.—have shown that riding, when properly managed, does not increase stress hormones or cause musculoskeletal harm. In some cases, it may even improve health outcomes by preventing obesity and encouraging physical activity.
This approach challenges the popular assumption that all riding is harmful simply because it involves humans sitting on elephants. Instead, it evaluates conditions, frequency, equipment, and oversight. For example, a bareback ride through the forest with a lifelong mahout may be less stressful than repeated bathing sessions with rotating tourists—especially if elephants are overfed sugary treats and under-exercised.
Crucially, welfare experts emphasize that removing riding without replacing it with meaningful, structured alternatives can lead to worse welfare outcomes: boredom, aggression, metabolic disorders, and decline in muscle tone. Simply banning riding may satisfy public optics, but not improve elephant wellbeing.
The Complexities of Elephant Riding: A Balanced Perspective, Georgina Ashby, ACES
2. Animal Rights: Riding as a Symbol of Domination
For animal rights advocates, the question is not about how riding is done—but whether it should be done at all.
From this standpoint, elephant riding is a symbolic and literal manifestation of human domination over another sentient being. It does not matter whether the load is light or the ground is soft. What matters is that the elephant has no choice. Riding, like other forms of animal labor, is considered a violation of autonomy, one that perpetuates the idea that animals exist to serve human pleasure or profit.
Rights-based arguments often link riding to the broader critique of domestication, captivity, and spectacle. Many campaigns frame the elephant’s presence in tourism as the endpoint of a violent origin story: poached from the wild, broken through traumatic training, and conditioned to obey. Even if an elephant is born in captivity and treated well, the structure of unequal control remains, and is therefore morally unacceptable.
As a result, animal rights organizations advocate for bans on riding, and increasingly for the end of all direct human–elephant interaction, including feeding and bathing. These demands are tied to growing political power—through international lobbying, viral media, and tourist boycotts—that often determine what is deemed ethical in the global marketplace.
But this perspective also tends to erase cultural context, flatten ethical nuance, and undermine local voices.
Taken for a ride, World Animal Protection
3. Mahouts: Relational Labor, Mutual Dependence
Within Laotian culture, and in the lived experience of mahouts, the ethics of elephant care is not about abstract rights or global standards, but about long-term relational labor.
Elephant riding is not necessarily seen as exploitative. It is a form of co-work, embedded in histories of forest navigation, farming, and ceremonial life. In this view, elephants are not merely wild beings taken from nature, nor passive victims of tourism, but complex social partners who live within families, villages, and multispecies communities.
The mahout’s ethics of care rests on closeness, daily familiarity, and reciprocal dependence. It does not deny the use of tools, commands, or structured labor—but it frames these within a system of mutual adaptation and responsibility. From this perspective, ethical riding is possible—not because elephants are trained, but because they are known.
Bans on riding, when imposed without regard for this context, risk erasing a form of knowledge that is tactile, embodied, and moral. They also carry real economic consequences for rural families, who may be forced to choose between abandoning elephants or selling them out.
To impose external ideals without listening to local voices is itself a form of moral violence.
Conclusion: The Ethics Behind the Ban
Should elephant riding be banned?
The answer depends on what kind of ethics we choose to value.
- Welfare ethics say riding can be acceptable—if regulated, monitored, and matched to the elephant’s needs.
- Rights ethics say riding is inherently wrong—regardless of how it is done.
- Mahouts say the real question is whether riding emerges from a relationship of trust, respect, and knowledge—not simply whether it looks good to outsiders.
In practice, blanket bans often respond more to tourist sentiment and international campaigns than to the complex realities of elephant lives. They may shift elephants into less visible but more harmful contexts. Or they may sever centuries-old relationships between people and animals who have co-existed—not without conflict, but with profound intimacy.
The challenge is not to choose between tradition and reform, but to ask:
What kind of care are we replacing, and with what?
Whose ethics are we applying, and whose voices are excluded?
Let us not confuse visibility with violence, or riding with cruelty. True ethics demands more than bans. It demands understanding, dialogue, and humility in the face of lives we do not fully know.
Elephants do not need to be left untouched to be respected. They need to be known, engaged, and cared for—on their terms, and within relationships that honor their dignity without denying their history.
