Zoos
Each year, over 600 million people visit zoos. These sites showcase live animals, described as wild and exotic beings, and offer the opportunity to experience proximity to creatures that are becoming increasingly rare. Sites visited by locals and sometimes major tourist attractions, zoos offer the chance to enjoy a unique experience through the animals they present and some of them incorporate aspects relating to travel, discovery, and adventure. In the context of global urbanisation and the sixth mass extinction, many species, that were once common in the early 20th century, have become extraordinary, leading to their inclusion in zoo collections.
Are zoos tourist attractions?
The captivity of animals kept for their beauty, strangeness, and power, can be traced back to ancient Egypt in about 3500 BC as well as to Mesopotamia and ancient China in the 11th century BC. This relationship with animals, primarily the privilege of the elite classes, is not based on consumption or utility as a driving force but is rooted in prestige, power, aesthetic enjoyment, and even companionship. Today, there are thousands of zoos (1,300 of which are major institutions) in almost every country in the world. Nonetheless, they are not a universal concept. In societies where strong ties exist between humans and animals, the idea of confining creatures for mere amusement is inconceivable. Thus, in anthropological terms, it is possible to identify societies with zoos and those without. Ultimately, it is only through globalisation, particularly colonialism, that the phenomenon has proliferated and established itself worldwide.

Figure 1: Non-exhaustive localisation of zoos in the world in 2010
How many zoos are there today? Where are they? These two questions are difficult to answer since the responses depend largely on how data is collected and what constitutes a zoo in different contexts. Estimates suggest that there are over 10,000 zoos worldwide, although recognised zoological associations maintain that there are only about 1,200 major zoos. The map of the location of zoos in the world by establishment reveals a familiar pattern in Europe, North America and Japan, with a large number of zoos in China and, to a lesser extent, India. Besides these cases, the concentration of zoos is relatively aligned to their history. The largest concentration is found in Europe, where they originated, and significant numbers can also be found in areas that have been under some form of influence: Japan during the Meiji era, Australia, New Zealand, India, and the United States, as a result of contrasting colonial legacies. In sub-Saharan Africa, the trend reverses, with a majority of countries without zoos. This is largely due to the budget required for a zoo, which is high and often difficult to reduce (staffing, food in particular). In the United States, nearly a third of zoos operate on a budget below $1 million; a third have a budget under $5 million, and a substantial number exceed that amount.
Despite the criticisms that zoos face regarding the confinement of animals and competition from other leisure areas, they remain highly popular destinations. In 2023, over 600 million people visited zoos, with San Diego Zoo (United States, 4 million visitors) and Beauval Zoo (France, 2 million visitors) emerging as major tourism and leisure centres. There are very few urban areas that do not have a zoo listed in tourist guides as a must-do family activity, with some places even citing their zoos as essential attractions (such as San Diego and Amsterdam). Beauval Zoo, which has a proven tourism strategy and significant resources, has recently extended its offering to include accommodation, following the example of theme parks.
Experiencing the extraordinary: mobilising codes outside of the everyday world
Zoos serve as spaces where visitors engage with narratives about other places. At the heart of these narratives lies the concept of the otherness of non-human beings. The public’s fascination for some animals stems from the disquiet offered by these encounters. In cultures where a clear separation between humans and animals is fundamental – precisely those that invented zoos – the institution is a place of controlled transgression. When observing a bear or a gorilla, it does not take long to realise that you are dealing with a form of non-human intelligence. Being close to these animals prompts questions about our own identity. Zoos promote this deconstruction of the human/animal divide through signboards that insist on the continuity between species or on culture and animal identities, without ever challenging the inherent asymmetry that exists between spectators and animals, by the simple fact of their confinement and display.

Figure 2: The polar bear enclosure at San Diego zoo, 2 July 2008
On the right, the world of polar bears. One of them is lying on the sand, in direct contact with the partition. This part of the enclosure is peaceful – shared by two bears – and has a slight bluish tinge to it due to the refraction of light through the acrylic. On the left is the public domain, crowded and noisy. People are jostling over several rows, taking photographs and filming, stretching out their arms over the heads of those in front. Excited exclamations fill the air. The experience is participative, with everyone having the chance to play a part (for instance, by trying to catch an animal’s attention by tapping on the glass)
In this way, otherness is controlled: there is no material risk of being attacked, no symbolic risk of seeing the separation between humans and animals break down. The experience of the zoo, much like that of tourism, represents a form of otherness that is controlled through various mechanisms (whether guides, travel agencies, hotels, or enclosures, layouts, and signs), and its detachment from everyday life: both can remain brief interludes, isolating from our ordinary life all the fundamental but troubling issues that are raised.
But, how does this otherness relate to elsewhere? Is having a cat at home not already an encounter with non-human life? In truth, at the zoo, we want to see lions and baboons, not cows or dogs. This is precisely because the latter, having become part of our daily lives, have lost much of their otherness, and thus their allure. At zoos, the main interest is meeting wild and exotic animals.
While not all zoos are the same, there is great consistency when it comes to the collections of animals on show: great apes, lions, and giraffes serve to define an institution, regardless of where it is in the world. In contrast, a site that showcases a wide variety of animals, without these few charismatic species, is more likely to be described as a wildlife park.
Of course, exoticism and wildness are not inherent characteristics of animals but rather the result of a qualification process in which the zoo participates through the décors, plantations, and architecture designed to conjure up an imagined elsewhere, largely influenced by post-colonialism.

Figure 3: View of the restaurant at Valencia Biopark. 29 April 2009
From the shaded terrace of Samburu, the restaurant at Valencia Zoo, named after a Kenyan nature reserve, patrons can enjoy views of the extensive “savannah”, designed and labelled as such by the institution. On vivid fluorescent green grass – more reminiscent of the flowerbeds found in a theme park than the grasses of the Serengeti – it is possible to catch sight of antelopes, sacred ibises, rhinoceroses, ostriches, crowned cranes, and, with a stroke of luck, lions.
The fact that a lion or a gorilla is enough to constitute a zoo reflects the asymmetrical construction of exoticism, which acts as a deviation from an established norm produced by the former colonies. Just as apples are not considered exotic fruit, cows are not inherently considered exotic animals.
Thus, the otherness of zoos is not very varied, mirrored in the surprising consistency of these collections around the world, with an over-representation of exhibits, décors, and species depicting Africa, the epitome of the wild and the exotic.

Figure 4: At the entrance to the “Congo Gorilla Forest”, Bronx Zoo, 11 August 2008
As the sign states, we are not in the Bronx but rather in Africa’s ever-green forest, “one of the last great wildernesses on the planet”. This assertion is translated visually by a satellite image, free of any political boundaries or visible traces of human activity.
With otherness diminishing as a result of familiarity, at zoos, the mechanism is not so much about bringing animals from elsewhere here – with bars and enclosures illustrating the power dynamics and hierarchies inherent in the zoo’s organisation of living beings – but rather about seeking to recreate a sense of elsewhere here, thereby enhancing the experience for us.
The spectacle of the zoo, in the same way as what we feel as tourists, is a physical and participatory experience rather than a novelistic one: visitors shout, commentate, and attempt to attract the attention of animals by tapping on the glass, all the while absorbing the different settings by simply walking from one enclosure to another. It is not surprising that the institution occasionally casts us in the role of those quintessential seekers of elsewhere: tourists.

Figure 5: The border, Copenhagen Zoo, 15 August 2008
At the border crossing between Russia and China, soldiers are present. The risk of travel is the key element of the staging for the Siberian tiger enclosure.
This journey is represented as the border that has to be crossed with all the bureaucratic challenges it entails. The tourist that we play steps fully into the otherness with all the risks it represents. Whether a simple delay at customs (Chicago Zoo), encounters with armed guards, or even the threat of a tiger attack (Melbourne Zoo). Thus, the tourist remains an idealised figure: that of the intrepid traveller or adventurer.

Figure 6: The African savannah at Werribee Zoo in Australia, 2005
Werribee Zoo blurs the line between genuine adventure, akin to a solitary safari, and a visit to its facilities. The Jepp is stuck to the wall, with the seats ensconced within the human world and its engine – which serves as a podium – in the animal world. The vehicle’s position turned to face the enclosure’s interior, and therefore, the view laid out before it, marks the start of the journey.
While the visitor’s experience at zoos can contribute to our understanding of that of tourists, it very much revolves around the question of elsewhere and controlled otherness, which can emerge within the context of everyday life, provided that a break from it is possible, and not just the notion of spending a night away from home. Being a tourist is less about physical location and more about a way of being that can be triggered or supported by certain environments, such as those created by zoos.
Being a tourist in the Anthropocene: zoos and the sixth mass extinction
A sixth mass extinction has been underway for several centuries, triggered by the rise of industrial society. With about two species of mammals in 10,000 becoming extinct every century in the periods between the last five extinctions, the rate of decline in vertebrates is currently one hundred times greater. The impact of human activity is unprecedented, last rivalled during the period of the dinosaurs, 65 million years ago. Since the 1960s, the idea has grown that the mere pleasure of observing animals can no longer justify the existence of zoos and certain groups work to destabilise these institutions. Zoos are presented as prisons and sites of exploitation where bad relationships with animals are perpetuated and it is believed that they should be closed.
In the context of this mass extinction, zoos have increasingly positioned themselves as “Noah’s Arks”, tasked with preserving endangered species for potential future reintroduction into their natural habitats. Here, the sacrifice of a group of individuals is presented as a necessary act for the greater good of the species, a protective relationship that is deemed to be legitimate. As a result, many zoos have become breeding programmes dedicated to maintaining genetic diversity within populations and species through meticulous reproductive planning.
For visitors, the attraction of charismatic species has grown, driven by the threat they face and the growing realisation that these animals may not exist in the very near future. Instead of travelling to the polar regions or the Amazon rainforest before they disappear, zoos can serve as substitutes for last-chance tourism.
The dawn of the Anthropocene is the result of a multitude of long and short-term factors, including human settlement and the transition to farming, which have gradually reshaped relationships among living beings. Industrialisation has transformed our interaction with natural resources, leading to unsustainable consumption resulting in their depletion, and the new particles being released into the atmosphere are further criteria used to define this new geological era.
This transformation has resulted, in particular, in an increasing detachment from domesticated animals due to changes in farming practices (becoming first and foremost animal productions, concentrated in closed buildings), urbanisation, and a massive decline in common wildlife species. In France, for example, nearly a third of the bird population has been lost in just fifteen years. Relatively common species, such as the great bustard, the marbled teal, and the dotterel, once used to make Chartres pâté during their migration, are now extinct in France.
In the context of these changes, specific spaces referred to as “farm zoos” or “children’s zoos” have appeared over the past forty years, where domesticated animals are showcased. If it is still useful to present these animals in a specific part of a zoo, it is because cows, goats, and pigs appear to have become so separate from everyday life that it has earned them a place within these living collections. Much like eco-museums have turned agricultural tools such as sickles and ploughs into curiosities, the marginal re-introduction of species into zoos reflects a disintegration of long-standing attachments to animals, despite their critical role in human history. The touristification of common farm animals such as sheep and rams stands as a troubling indicator of the contemporary ecological crisis.
Bibliography
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