What we do with horses, would not be allowed in a zoo

In zoos, there are strict rules about how animals must be housed. But what if we applied those same standards to horses in riding schools, sport stables, and boarding stables?

Imagine this: you walk through a zoo. Instead of spacious enclosures, you see rows of cages. Each animal is alone. An elephant that can hardly move or stretch. A monkey without a climbing frame. A zebra without companions. They can barely turn around, and that's it. No movement, no distraction, no life. You would be outraged and turn to say: "this is animal abuse."

But what if we told you that this is exactly what thousands of horses experience daily, without anyone noticing? In fact, we often call it 'good' or 'responsible horsekeeping.' What feels normal to many has nothing to do with what a horse truly needs.

Anyone visiting a zoo expects the animals to be well cared for. There are regulations about the size of the enclosure, social contact, enrichment, climate control, monitoring, and supervision. A giraffe must not be alone. A bear must be able to climb. A monkey should not live without challenge. And rightly so. But horses? In the Netherlands, they can be kept in a stable indefinitely, with no legal obligation for free movement or social contact. And that is legal; moreover, it is normal.

The double standard of animal welfare

Interestingly, some will point to the Oostvaardersplassen as the prime example of how not to treat horses. But what many forget: despite the shocking images of food shortages and deaths in harsh winters, these horses did have access to space, companions, movement, fresh air, and natural behavior. Basic needs that thousands of horses in stalls will never experience.

This does not make the situation there right; no zoo would arrange it that way. But the bitter truth is that massive outrage arose for these horses, while the silent, daily shortfall of welfare for working horses hardly affects anyone. It seems that visible suffering evokes more compassion than a lifetime of being locked up without ever truly living.

Why do we find it natural that a horse in a nature park or educational zoo should have space, herd contact, and peace, yet accept that thousands of horses in sports and recreation are locked in individual stalls, often without a view, without pasture access, without social life? In fact, all horses are flight animals, social creatures, beings with subtle communication and a deep need for safety and overview. But there seems to be a distinction made between 'natural' horses (like Przewalski's horses in zoos) and 'working horses.' Only... they are biologically the same.

They are used, and thus fall between the cracks. Not wild enough for nature conservation, not vulnerable enough for oversight, but just domesticated enough to allow everything as long as they do not suffer 'visibly.'

Zoos: supervision, sanctions, obligations

Zoos are under strict supervision by the NVWA (Dutch Food and Consumer Product Safety Authority). They adhere to European guidelines and must tailor housing per species to behavior and physiology. Non-compliance = fines, penalties, or closure.

For horses, there is no concrete legal standard for minimum space, daylight, social contact, or free movement. The "Guide to Good Practices" from the sector is not binding but is almost laughable compared to the requirements imposed on zoos. Enforcement only occurs in cases of neglect, and in practice, this often means: when the animal is already dead or on the brink of dying. But what if welfare is lacking without visible suffering? Many people do not see the suffering of horses simply because they do not know what to look for. A horse that stands still is calm to many, not depressed. A horse does not scream when it is in pain; it suffers in silence, adapts, shuts down. Invisible suffering goes unnoticed and thus unspoken.

A horse in the zoo often has it better

In Dutch zoos, you can see Przewalski's horses: wild ancestors of our horses. They live there in herds, in spacious natural enclosures, with observation, peace, food, and shelter. Exactly what hundreds of sport horses, riding school horses, or recreational horses must miss daily and will never experience.

The difference? Context. Status. And a system that knows no rules for horses that are no longer wild but also never truly became pets.

Time for legislation based on behavior and needs

What many people do not know is that even the minimum size of a horse stall is not legally defined. The often-cited guideline states that a stall must be at least twice the height at the withers squared. For a horse that is 1.70 meters tall, this amounts to 3.40 by 3.40 meters — necessary to lie down flat and enter deep REM sleep, something that is vital for recovery and welfare. Yet many horses still stand in standard stalls of 3 by 3 meters. Too small. Insufficient. Day in, day out.

It becomes even more tragic when horse owners find it 'sad' if their horse is outside among companions. For their own sense of safety, they prefer to lock the animal up, alone, without movement, without contact. Love as an excuse for confinement.

If we truly looked at what a horse needs; socially, mentally, and physically, then many forms of housing today would no longer be acceptable and could even be seen as animal abuse.

Horses deserve the same principles as other hoofed animals in zoos: living environment adapted to the animal, not to humans.

No bars, but space with its own rhythm. No loneliness, but companions. No use as a norm, but welfare as a basis. The zoo has already arranged it; now it's time for the horse industry.

In conclusion: dare to look as if it is not your horse

Imagine this: you walk past a row of horses in a riding school. Each in a stall, no movement, no contact, no distraction, no freedom of choice. Just waiting and standing still. Day in, day out.

Would you find it normal if these were giraaf's? Or Przewalski's horses? Or elephants in small cages next to each other?

And yet: this is how thousands of horses live daily in the Netherlands. Not out of malice, but because the system has evolved this way. But systems are made by people, and people can change them.

The question is not whether we love horses; many do. The question is:

Do we dare to truly look at what they need, even if it asks something of us?