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Concerns about poaching and trafficking have led conservationists to seek urgent responses to tackle the impact on wildlife. One possible solution is the militarisation of conservation, which holds potentially far-reaching consequences. It is important to engage critically with the militarisation of conservation, including identifying and reflecting on the problems it produces for wildlife, for people living with wildlife and for those tasked with implementing militarised strategies. This Perspectives piece is a first step towards synthesising the main themes in emerging critiques of militarised conservation. We identify five major themes: first, the importance of understanding how poaching is defined; second, understanding the ways that local communities experience militarised conservation; third, the experiences of rangers; fourth, how the militarisation of conservation can contribute to violence where conservation operates in the context of armed conflict; and finally how it fits in with and reflects wider political economic dynamics. Ultimately, we suggest that failure to engage more critically with militarisation risks making things worse for the people involved and lead to poor conservation outcomes in the long run.
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Biological Conservation
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Why we must question the militarisation of conservation
Rosaleen Duy
, Francis Massé
, Emile Smidt
, Esther Marijnen
, Bram Büscher
Judith Verweijen
, Maano Ramutsindela
, Trishant Simlai
, Laure Joanny
, Elizabeth Lunstrum
University of Sheeld, United Kingdom
Institute of Social Studies, The Hague, Netherlands
University of Ghent, Belgium
University of Cape Town, South Africa
University of Cambridge, United Kingdom
York University, Canada
Human-wildlife conict
Political economy
Protected areas
Wildlife trade
Concerns about poaching and tracking have led conservationists to seek urgent responses to tackle the impact
on wildlife. One possible solution is the militarisation of conservation, which holds potentially far-reaching
consequences. It is important to engage critically with the militarisation of conservation, including identifying
and reecting on the problems it produces for wildlife, for people living with wildlife and for those tasked with
implementing militarised strategies. This Perspectives piece is a rst step towards synthesising the main themes
in emerging critiques of militarised conservation. We identify ve major themes: rst, the importance of un-
derstanding how poaching is dened; second, understanding the ways that local communities experience
militarised conservation; third, the experiences of rangers; fourth, how the militarisation of conservation can
contribute to violence where conservation operates in the context of armed conict; and nally how it ts in
with and reects wider political economic dynamics. Ultimately, we suggest that failure to engage more criti-
cally with militarisation risks making things worse for the people involved and lead to poor conservation out-
comes in the long run.
1. Introduction
The rapid rise in poaching of elephants, rhinos and many other
species over the last decade has prompted conservationists to think
about how to respond eectively. One proposed response is a series of
measures that include: more forceful or armed forms of conservation
(Asiyanbi, 2016;Barbora, 2017;Massé and Lunstrum, 2016;Verweijen
and Marijnen, 2018); the development and application of military style
approaches (Annecke and Masubele, 2016;Büscher, 2018;Duy et al.,
2015); such as the development of informant networks, and counter-
insurgency-like strategies (Adams, 2017;Büscher, 2018;Dunlap and
Fairhead, 2014;Pimm et al., 2015); and the use and applications of
technologies originally developed by the military (Lunstrum, 2018;
Shresthra and Lapeyre, 2018). In this analysis, we term these devel-
opments the militarisation of conservation, because of the military
origins and models that inform and guide these interventions.
Proponents of militarisation present the integration of military
approaches with conservation practice as a necessary development
(Shaw and Rademeyer, 2016;Runhovde, 2017;Henk, 2005, 2006;
Hübschle and Jooste, 2017;Mogomotsi and Madigele, 2017). However,
the militarisation of conservation holds potentially far-reaching con-
sequences for practices, rhetoric, policy, and interactions between
conservation actors and other stakeholders. It therefore merits attention
and so here we provide an overview of an emerging body of scholarship
in conservation social science that provides evidence-based critiques of
the militarisation of conservation. We seek to inform and advance de-
bates amongst academics, policy makers and practitioners. Further,
while there are historical antecedents in the use of violence and mili-
tarisation to sustain conservation (Brockington, 2004;Lunstrum, 2015),
we argue that in the new urgent rush to save species from extinction,
many practitioners, policy makers, and proponents of current militar-
isation have not paid adequate attention to the potential disadvantages
and long term implications of relying on such a strategy.
The body of literature we build on is rmly anchored in qualitative
Received 7 September 2018; Received in revised form 7 December 2018; Accepted 21 January 2019
Corresponding author at: The Department of Politics, University of Sheeld, Elmeld, Northumberland Road, Sheeld S10 2TU, United Kingdom.
E-mail addresses: (R. Duy), (F. Massé), (E. Marijnen), (B. Büscher), (J. Verweijen), (M. Ramutsindela), (L. Joanny), (E. Lunstrum).
Biological Conservation 232 (2019) 66–73
0006-3207/ © 2019 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. This is an open access article under the CC BY license
social sciences, and often draws on extensive eldwork in places such as
Nigeria (Asiyanbi, 2016), India (Barbora, 2017), Laos (Dwyer et al.,
2015), Guatemala (Devine, 2014;Ybarra, 2016), Colombia (Bocarejo
and Ojeda, 2016), Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) (Marijnen
and Verweijen, 2016), South Africa (Büscher and Ramutsindela, 2016;
Hübschle, 2017;Lunstrum, 2014), Mozambique (Massé and Lunstrum,
2016;Massé et al., 2017b;Witter and Sattereld, 2018), Tanzania
(Mabele, 2016) and Central African Republic (CAR) (Lombard, 2016).
Many of these studies are in-depth explorations of a single case, but
there are few overviews (Duy et al., 2015;Duy et al., 2016;Büscher
and Fletcher, 2018) or comparative studies (Lunstrum and Ybarra,
2018). Our aim in this Perspective Piece is to draw out the major
themes, patterns and concerns about militarisation from the critical
literature in order to inform more thorough dialogue in conservation;
this synthesis of critical perspectives is intended to provide reections
in order to inform conservation policy making via the development of a
clear counterpoint to the more commonly articulated position that
militarisation is an appropriate, proportionate and necessary response
to an urgent situation. As such, this Perspective Piece is a timely rst
step towards sparking a dialogue about militarisation of conservation,
not least because more militarised approaches are gaining traction in
other sectors such as forest protection (Asiyanbi, 2016). More thorough
engagement and dialogue between dierent perspectives will help
conservation practitioners to develop more robust and socially just
policy approaches to the current poaching crisis.
First, we examine why it is important to engage critically with the
militarisation of conservation. Second, we set out the main themes
which characterise the emerging literature on this topic: the importance
of understanding how poaching is dened, the experiences of local
communities, the experiences of rangers, the challenges of conservation
in areas of armed conict, and nally the political economy of the link
between conservation and militarisation. To conclude we suggest that
failure to engage more critically with militarisation risks making things
worse for the people involved and leads to poor conservation outcomes
in the long run.
1.1. Why critical engagement is important
Militarised approaches to conservation appear to be expanding,
becoming institutionalised and normalised in a growing number of
places and amongst particular conservation non-governmental organi-
sations (NGOs) and donors (Duy, 2016;Marijnen, 2017;Büscher and
Fletcher, 2018). Part of the reason for a shift towards militarised con-
servation is that some conservationists feel pressure to act urgently to
prevent extinctions. This can be especially acute in conict zones or if
conservationists determine that poachers are adopting more aggressive
tactics (Büscher and Ramutsindela, 2016;Marijnen and Verweijen,
2016;Kelly and Gupta, 2016;Lombard, 2016).
Of course, there are many arguments oered in favour of militarised
conservation: that it is the only eective solution in an urgent situation,
that conservationists need to defend themselves and the last remaining
populations of endangered species against armed threats, and that use
of more forceful approaches can reduce poaching leading to growing
wildlife numbers, amongst others (for example see Mogomotsi and
Madigele, 2017;Henk, 2005, 2006;Hübschle and Jooste, 2017;
Hillborn et al., 2006;Emslie and Brooks, 1999). However, our aim is
not to recount the many high prole and well-covered arguments in
favour of militarised conservation. Instead our aim is to intervene in the
debate by changing the focus to address important counter-arguments
and concerns in more detail. While recognizing that militarisation will
be varied in its details from place to place, we argue that militarised
conservation as a model, even when it might result in conserving some
animals and enforcing some protected areas, is fundamentally unjust.
Moreover, if it is not regarded as a just and legitimate policy it will be
dicult to enforce in the longer term, even with enhanced levels of
resources (Wright et al., 2016).
This Perspective piece draws on research that critically engages
with militarised conservation published in books, reports, and over 29
distinct journals that span a range of disciplines from geography, so-
ciology, criminology, anthropology, political science, political ecology,
conservation biology, amongst others. In addition, conservation social
scientists, conservation and enforcement practitioners themselves have
also pointed to the limitations of a top-down and violent approach to
anti-poaching (Barichievy et al., 2017;Bennett, 2011), especially if not
combined with eorts to address local socio-economic inequalities and
injustices (Annecke and Masubele, 2016;Cooney et al., 2017;Haas and
Ferreira, 2018). Indeed,even those who argue that militaries, such as
the Botswana Defence Force (BDF), have been successful in leading
anti-poaching in the country, caution against the use of military ap-
proaches in conservation (Henk, 2005, 2006).
A case in point concerns the development of technological solutions,
like surveillance technologies aimed at detecting poachers, as part of
militarised conservation. Conservationists may nd these technologies
compelling, but being overly enchanted with them risks obscuring how
they can waste or divert scarce resources; indeed there is a lack of
transparency about the eectiveness of such technologies, the costs of
which run into millions of dollars
(Lunstrum, 2014;Hahn et al., 2017;
Gore (2017). Furthermore, many conservationists do caution against
adopting technologies that have military origins, recognizing that they
can be expensive and possibly divert important investment in other
aspects of conservation, and that they do not address the underlying
causes of dwindling wildlife numbers (Berger-Tal and Lahoz-Monfort,
2018, 5).
Reecting on the negative implications of militarised conservation
is vitally important precisely because of its (generally) positive pre-
sentation by NGOs, international donors, and national governments.
Proponents of militarised conservation often present forceful ap-
proaches as a noble or heroic quest to save species (Marijnen and
Verweijen, 2016;McClanahan and Wall, 2016). From this perspective,
criticism may appear as an unhelpful distraction from the urgent op-
erational challenges faced by practitioners in the eld. Critics have
been portrayed as naïve, lacking in understanding, as pseudo-scientists
or even as hostile towards conservation (Hübschle and Jooste, 2017;
Mogomotsi and Madigele, 2017).
Such portrayals obscure the nature and value of (critical) social
science work on conservation (see Bennett et al., 2016;Charnley et al.,
2017). As Sandbrook et al. (2013) point out, there is sometimes a false
distinction drawn between those who work on and in conservation.
Indeed, researchers often work closely with practitioners, and have
provided an important alternative avenue for them to draw attention to
and express their concerns, criticisms and frustrations (Barbora, 2017;
Bennett et al., 2016;Lunstrum, 2014;Massé et al., 2017a, 2017b. Cri-
tical engagement can facilitate a better understanding of militarised
conservation, its short and long-term implications, why alternatives are
needed and what these might look like. As such, this Perspective piece
aims to provide a basis for further debate and dialogue in conservation
to enable conservationists to improve practices, and help develop more
eective and more socially just forms of conservation. A vital rst step
in this is to identify and discuss the range of negative impacts of mili-
tarisation as a strategy to address wildlife poaching that are found in
the literature.
It should be noted that despite these claims of success, by 1995, 8 years after
the BDF took over anti-poaching, the black rhino was declared locally extinct
and there were only 20 white rhinos left (Emslie and Brooks, 1999).
conservation-are-naive-commentary/, accessed 07.10.19.
R. Duy et al. Biological Conservation 232 (2019) 66–73
2. Focusing on the symptoms, not the root causes of poaching
One of the criticisms that has been raised about militarised con-
servation is that it does not address the underlying reasons for why
people engage in poaching and tracking; instead it focuses on tackling
the symptoms (poaching and tracking) of a much deeper and complex
structural contexts that is at the root of these practices (Duy et al.,
2015;Hübschle, 2017;Witter and Sattereld, 2018). Reecting on the
body of more critical scholarship on militarised conservation can help
conservationists to step back and consider the wider dynamics of what
produces poaching in the rst place. Scholarship also shows how the
portrayal and treatment of poachers as criminals could be ineective,
and even counterproductive. The history of poaching is central to this
debate: there is a well-established body of literature exploring how
some forms of hunting, and not others, became dened as poaching and
the importance of examining how poverty, inequality, historical grie-
vances and the continuing eects of colonial and racial discourses shape
understandings of poaching (see Challender and MacMillan, 2014;
Duy et al., 2015;Hübschle, 2017;Neumann, 2004;Peluso, 1993).
Similar arguments about the need to understand and address these
underlying historical and structural factors to tackle environmental and
wildlife crime eectively are also made by some green criminologists,
such as Gore (2017) Wyatt (2013) and Cao and Wyatt (2016).
Recent scholarship on the militarisation of conservation also focuses
on unpacking and analysing the portrayals of illegal wildlife trade is-
sues by interested parties. Central to this task is the need to interrogate
the discursive and visual representation of poaching. Militarised con-
servation is characterised by a process of moral boundary drawing
between rangers as heroes and poachers as villains (Neumann, 2004).
Such boundaries are drawn through a variety of representational
practices in policy literature, academic articles and fund-raising activ-
ities (Marijnen and Verweijen, 2016;Massé, 2018). These boundaries
can be used to explain and justify the use of coercion and (deadly)
violence against poachers (Neumann, 2004;McClanahan and Wall,
2016). There are direct parallels between the present day criminalisa-
tion of poachers and colonial era initiatives to control or outlaw
hunting by African communities that produced deeply held grievances
and animosity towards wildlife conservation (Duy et al., 2015;Duy
et al., 2016;Ramutsindela, 2016). Many of these grievances still persist
today and forms part of the reason for why young men might enter the
poaching economy (Hübschle, 2017), as discussed in the next section.
The example of Virunga National Park in eastern DRC shows why
representations matter for the practice of conservation. The commu-
nications team of the NGO managing the park heavily deploys hero
versus villain categorisations to attract donations, for instance for the
Fallen Rangers Fund. In its messaging, it consistently repeats the gure
of 175 ranger deaths in twenty years. Yet these numbers are presented
in a decontextualised way: for example, it is rarely mentioned that
people other than rangers were also killed, or that rangers were en-
gaged in destroying homes or elds as part of their operations,
(Verweijen and Marijnen, 2018;Vikanza, 2011). Instead, park com-
munications simply portray the rangers as heroes battling against un-
dened armed groups, without outlining which specic group is in-
volved and why they attack the park guards. This deliberate erasure of
abuses committed by rangers gives external audiences the impression
that rangers are always the heroes and contributes to a more general
lack of understanding for why local communities may resist conserva-
tion initiatives (also see Massé, 2018). Identifying and tackling abuses
committed by rangers (environmental and human rights abuses) is vi-
tally important failure to do so undermines trust between conserva-
tion authorities and people, and does a disservice to those rangers who
conform to very high standards of personal conduct. In sum, moral
boundary drawing between rangers as conservation heroes and evil
poachers is problematic for three reasons. First, it obscures how some
rangers are involved in activities that have a negative impact upon
people and biodiversity (Neumann, 2004;McClanahan and Wall,
2016)failure to recognise this, means that economic and training
support for militarisation can increase the capacity to engage in such
abuses (Lombard, 2016). Second, it trapsrangers in a particular role,
rendering it more dicult to bring to light the complex variety of actual
ranger stories and experiences needed to improve their working con-
ditions and eectiveness (as discussed below). Third, by decontextua-
lising the death of rangers, the park is able to generate more nancial
support for a military-style response, even though this has fostered
more direct attacks by rebel groups against the park (and park rangers),
ultimately leading to a cycle of violence (Verweijen and Marijnen,
2.1. Local communities' experiences of militarised conservation
Critical engagement with militarised conservation also means ex-
ploring and revealing the everyday challenges and problems en-
countered by people living in and around areas aected by militarised
conservation, including the ways it can infringe upon their rights and
daily lives.
Militarised conservation can mirror and recreate past injustices,
which risks alienating inhabitants of conservation spaces. For example,
militarised conservation tactics in specic contexts in South Africa
often resemble apartheid-era counterinsurgency practices, where eorts
to win the support of local people also coincide with tactics of in-
timidation and use of violence. These tactics also currently extend into
Mozambique, and include: the development of informant networks, co-
option and development of cultures of mistrust within communities
(Annecke and Masubele, 2016;Lunstrum, 2015;Massé et al., 2017a,
2017b); raiding and invading people's homes in operations to uncover
evidence of wildlife crimes (Ramutsindela, 2016;Massé et al., 2017a;
Büscher, 2018); and active displacement of communities for conserva-
tion (Massé and Lunstrum, 2016;Witter and Sattereld, 2018). More
forceful approaches to conservation can also be accompanied by new
incentive schemes, such as the provision of game meat to schools and
water reticulation programmes. However, such interventions can
simply serve as stop-gap measures, or as distractions which do not
address the systemic problems which produce incentives to engage in
illegal hunting in the rst place. There is a debate in conservation about
whether it can or should address poverty and inequality; this is im-
portant because eorts to address these problems underpin hearts and
mindsapproaches. However, these approaches are then systematically
undermined by practices of intimidation, violence and surveillance
which can be part and parcel of militarisation (Massé and Lunstrum,
2016;Massé et al., 2017a;Ramutsindela, 2016). As discussed in more
depth below, addressing inequalities and ensuring that conservation
does not exacerbate them is necessary to tackle the underlying causes of
poaching in the longer term (see for example Cooney et al., 2017;Haas
and Ferreira, 2018;Hübschle, 2017;Hübschle and Shearing, 2018;
Duy et al., 2016;Duy et al., 2015).
Local inhabitants' negative experiences of these more forceful forms
of conservation are also inadequately incorporated into portrayals of
rangers as heroes. When any type of conservation practice is presented
as inherently good, it becomes dicult to investigate and address al-
leged abuses by conservation sta(Moreto et al., 2015). This can lead
to a loss of accountability and legitimacy in the eyes of local people and
the international community.
Despite often being crucial to the success of conservation eorts, the
experiences of the people living in the areas concerned are overlooked
in debates about the militarisation of conservation. Understanding what
militarisation means for those people can shed light on how the drive to
save species by more forceful means has counterproductive eects in
the longer term. For example, one of the most signicant problems with
militarisation is that it has the capacity to alienate local communities
who object to the use of force to protect wildlife, the development of
cultures of surveillance and their continued (often violent) exclusion
from protected areas; such approaches will lose the support of the very
R. Duy et al. Biological Conservation 232 (2019) 66–73
people who are central to conservation eorts in the longer term (Duy
et al., 2015;Cooney et al., 2017;Hübschle, 2017;Massé et al., 2017a,
2017b). Further, a recent study by Holden et al. (2018) details emer-
gent ndings that demand reduction campaigns coupled with sustain-
able livelihood approaches are more eective at tackling poaching for
ivory than enhanced policing and enforcement alone. This further calls
into question the long-term sustainability of militarised approaches.
2.2. The experiences of rangers
There is also a need to gain a better understanding of the lived ex-
periences of those involved in implementing militarised conservation,
notably rangers. A growing number of researchers are engaged in this
task (Massé et al., 2017a, 2017b;Moreto, 2015a, 2015b;Moreto et al.,
2015;Moreto et al., 2017;Gore, 2017). Not claiming to speak for
rangers, these researchers instead oer avenues to draw attention to the
problems and challenges that rangers face, and their own concerns and
criticisms of militarised conservation. In so doing, they assist with and
support documenting ranger concerns, and act to amplify them. This is
important work because rangers operate in complicated power hier-
archies, and often fear that they will lose their jobs if they criticise
conservation authorities, so they cannot necessarily speak out publicly
(Annecke and Masubele, 2016;Massé et al., 2017a, 2017b;Moreto,
2015a, 2015b). Moreover, understanding rangers' experiences relates
directly to an understanding of their practices in the eld and their
motivations, as the recent WWF Ranger Perception surveys show.
The idea that rangers do what they do simply because they love
nature, and that they willingly engage in hard-line approaches to anti-
poaching does not map well on to their actual experiences of carrying
out the practices of militarised conservation (Moreto, 2015a, 2015b).
For example, there are rising rates of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
(PTSD) amongst rangers in Kruger National Park, and there are reports
of many more stadiagnosed with other stress-related conditions.
also see a re-direction of ranger duties away from their typical role as
conservationists to become active players in guerrilla warfare, putting
their lives in constant jeopardy.
Indeed, rangers are increasingly tar-
gets of violence themselves (Lunstrum, 2014;Massé et al., 2017a,
2017b), which is especially harsh given that militarised anti-poaching
may not be what they signed up for when they entered the profession
(Annecke and Masubele, 2016).
The entire spectrum of ranger experiences is important. Rank-and-
le stainvolved in militarised conservation often express concern
about what they are expected to do, and there can be a (perceived or
genuine) lack of transparency of senior staand the wider institutions
engaged in designing and implementing militarised conservation
(Moreto et al., 2015). One reason for such opacity is that conserva-
tionists face immense pressures to demonstrate that they are making in-
roads against poaching. In the Kruger National Park, key performance
assessments of management staare narrowed to reducing the rate of
rhino killed per day, irrespective of the pressures faced by conservation
managers. Such pressures have snowballing eects that can lead to the
use of excessive force, torture, and even extra judicial killings of sus-
pects, as is well documented in Tanzania (Carlson et al., 2015;Mabele,
2016). The negative eects of this pressure also extend to conservation
stathemselves, as a culture of suspicion and mistrust can lead to toxic
work environments, increasing workplace stress. There is often an un-
acknowledged racial politics running through conservation circles as
well. Conscious and unconscious bias amongst white sta, which leads
to unfair and incorrect assumptions about fellow black staprevents
the development of eective working relationships. This undermines
and unravels any gains made in terms of increasing diversity and
equality in the workplace in the longer term (Moreto, 2015a, 2015b;
Mbaria and Ogada, 2016).
Rather than reducing rangers to a singular category of conservation
heroesit is important to highlight and understand the complex realities
faced by rangers in order to improve their well-being and working
conditions (Massé et al., 2017a, 2017b;Moreto, 2015a, 2015b).
many aspects of ranger experiences remain understudied, including:
How do rangers regard the use of tracking technology, which monitors
their movements during the working day? What are the implications of
such work place surveillance for labour relations? Are rangers paid
adequately and on time? Do rangers feel they have the right equipment,
and are there sucient and appropriate pathways through the profes-
sion? What are their other options for employment? What kinds of
pressures do their families face? Addressing these questions requires
thorough and sustained research from the social sciences, and could
benet from developing an analysis which is more rmly anchored in
debates about labour relations rather than conservation per se.
2.3. Conservation and armed conict
One of the strongest arguments in favour of militarised conservation
is that it is the best (or only) workable option in areas of intense armed
conict. However, the intersections between conservation and wider
dynamics of armed conict remain ill understood. Yet there is an
emerging body of work, often drawing on insights from a range of
academic disciplines such as development, and peace and conict stu-
dies, that specically examines how militarised conservation intersects
with conicts and violence. (Lombard, 2016;Verweijen and Marijnen,
In this Perspectives piece we argue that militarisation of conserva-
tion is in itself fundamentally problematic precisely because it can serve
to embed conict dynamics further, rather than resolve them
(Marijnen, 2018). A pertinent question which requires further debate is
whether militarised conservation ultimately contributes to rising levels
of violence in contexts of armed conict. When conservationists operate
in conict zones, they often face intense pressures and can feel directly
threatened by armed groups and by heavily armed poachers. When
faced with such threats it can seem a common senseresponse for
rangers to resort to the use of force to protect wildlife and themselves.
However, when readily using force, it may occur that groups (including
rangers), which are armed for conservation purposes, are simply re-
garded as another armed group engaged in a conict. This can lead to
an escalation in arms and in levels of violence, and once such a dynamic
is generated it is dicult to de-escalate (Duy, 2016;Humphreys and
Smith, 2014).
Another key issue is the well publicised and high prole claims that
poaching is a crucial funding strategy for militias, rebel groups and
even terrorist networks. While conservation social scientists do not
deny that poachers may be heavily armed in certain places, especially
in conict zones, they do examine and question the claims that there is
a clear link between illegal wildlife trade and funding for armed con-
ict. For example, the Elephant Action League controversially claimed
Al Shabaab use ivory to fund terrorist activity. This narrative was taken
up by a range of NGOs, philanthropic foundations, governments and
media outlets (Duy, 2016). However, several studies show that these
claims are poorly evidenced and are based on false assumptions (Duy,
R. Duy et al. Biological Conservation 232 (2019) 66–73
2016;Smith & Haenlein, 2016;Sommerville, 2016;White, 2014;Kelly
et al., 2018). While there has been a recent move away from making
such explicit claims about Al Shabaab because of the lack of evidence, it
has not stopped the circulation of the problematic narrative that ivory
(and illegal wildlife trade more generally) is used to fund conict and
specically militant groups such as Janjaweed, the Lord's Resistance
Army and Boko Haram (Kelly et al., 2018). For example, Achim Steiner
when he was head of UNEP, Prince William and the #Whosesidear-
eyouon campaign of United for Wildlife, Wildlife Conservation Society's
96 Elephants Campaign and Conservation International's Direct Con-
nection campaign all drew links between (broadly dened) interna-
tional terrorism and the illegal wildlife trade (Duy, 2016;
Sommerville, 2016). Even while lacking evidence, such claims increase
the sense of urgency to save species in the face of intense or growing
pressures of armed conict, and are thus used to justify a shift towards
more militarised forms of conservation.
Increasing collaborations between conservationists, national armies
and UN Peace Keeping Operations (UNPKO) could also benet from
greater critical reection. This could draw on long standing debates in
politics and international relations about the risks and challenges of
working with these kinds of military institutions. For instance, much of
the literature on UNPKOs highlights that peacekeeping and peace en-
forcement often means taking sides, and that it is not possible (or even
necessarily desirable) to be neutral partnersin a conict zone
(Verweijen, 2017;Fassin, 2012). This is an important point for con-
servationists seeking to partner with UNPKOs: working with military
actors means becoming more deeply embedded in the very conict
dynamics that undermine conservation eorts.
Collaborations between military actors and conservationists might
also spark tensions: military actors are trained in a particular type of
approach and rules of engagement that are geared towards overlapping
areas of defence, counter-insurgency and pursuing warfare. This ap-
proach diers from the role and purpose of conservationists. It cannot
be assumed that government forces have a clean record on conservation
issues either. In specic places, there have been accusations of direct
involvement of military personnel in poaching or other forms of illegal
and damaging natural resource extraction, even using poaching to fund
their operations (Carlson et al., 2015;Ellis, 1994;Titeca, 2013). There
are also risks in providing military training and equipment to rangers
because there are instances where the new skills and weaponry are
turned back on wildlife and local communities. This occurred for ex-
ample in CAR where a park guard who received paramilitary training
funded by the European Commission became a rebel leader with the
Seleka movement, and many of the other externally trained park guards
joined as well (Lombard, 2016).
Conservationists also need to be aware of the human rights record of
their collaborators. In some instances, soldiers from national armies
engage in human rights abuses and are regarded as a repressive and
hostile force. Working with military partners can therefore contribute
to a more negative view of the work of park rangers amongst those who
bear the brunt of these abuses (Verweijen and Marijnen, 2018). Colla-
borating with military partners with records of social and ecological
abuses is potentially problematic to conservationists because it can
inict signicant reputational damage on the international stage,
thereby undermining international support for conservation. These
considerations highlight the importance of studying military colla-
borations and the eects on conict dynamics in zones of armed con-
ict, in particular when conict dynamics are central to justications
for the need to militarise conservation in the rst place.
2.4. The political economy of the militarisation of conservation
One central, but often overlooked, question in arguments about
militarisation of conservation is: who wins and who loses from in-
creasing militarisation? Who prots from the development of more
militarised approaches, and how does that shape or produce specic
conservation strategies? Answering these questions requires examining
the political economy of militarisation of conservation.
As a growing number of studies show, the militarisation of con-
servation can be driven by the demand for prots from private sector
actors seeking to expand into new markets. For example, Devine (2014)
examines the intersections of ecotourism, conservation and militarisa-
tion in Guatemala, drawing out the ways in which ecotourism devel-
opment has become a means by which the Guatemalan state has revived
and repurposed tactics of counterinsurgency warfare derived from the
country's civil war. Massé and Lunstrum (2016) argue that anti-
poaching strategies in and around Kruger National Park constitute
accumulation by securitisationwhereby anti-poaching security and
training oers lucrative avenues for the private sector (Lunstrum,
2018). Such accumulation is evident in the number of Private Security
Companies (PSCs) oering their services for training or for direct en-
gagement in anti-poaching operations. Critics of using PSCs in con-
servation point out that it is important to examine past examples of
poor practice. For example, Neumann (2004) discusses the case of Li-
wonde National Park in Malawi, where rangers trained by a PSC were
implicated in human rights abuses over a two-year period. In the past, a
number of conservation NGOs have been engulfed in scandals involving
intelligence gathering for anti-poaching via contracting private com-
panies staed by ex-special forces. One of the best known examples is
Operation Lock during the mid 1980s, which was carried out by KAS
Enterprises (a private military company). While intended to conduct
wildlife crime sting operations, it was later revealed that they also
gathered intelligence on anti-apartheid activists for the South African
state. As WWF-International had provided funds to this operation, the
NGO's reputation was damaged (Rademeyer, 2012). Despite these ne-
gative experiences, several conservation NGOs today continue to hire
private intelligence companies staed by former operatives from in-
telligence services, including the former Bureau of State Security
(BOSS) and Mossad (Massé et al., 2017a).
The concerns raised about the role of PSCs and partnering with
intelligence specialists, especially external or foreignoperatives, are
shared by professional bodies. In 2017, the Game Rangers Association
of Africa issued a statement expressing concerns about the activities of
security agencies from outside Africa. They noted these agencies' lack of
coordination, lack of understanding of the operating environment, lack
of ecological sensitivity, lack of knowledge of the legal frameworks that
rangers operate in as well as the lack of proper vetting of foreign se-
curity agents and proteering by military equipment manufacturers.
Conservation NGOs themselves are also becoming more involved in
surveillance, intelligence gathering and developing informant networks
(Massé et al., 2017a, 2017b;Sandbrook, 2015). The risks related to
these practices are not suciently acknowledged by their proponents.
For instance, NGO stamay not have the training to collect and store
sensitive data securely in order to ensure that participants or informants
are not put at increased risk (although there is now more attention on
this theme).
Additionally, the process of gathering information may
itself be problematic if informants feel physically threatened or fear
losing their jobs. Furthermore, in certain areas where it is practiced,
intelligence-led approaches to conservation have already fomented
intra-community tensions resulting in violent attacks (Biggs et al.,
2016). Practices of intelligence gathering by NGOs and private security
sector partners are embedded in and shaped by the attitudes and ap-
proaches of the individuals and organisations involved in it, which may
not align with local attitudes (Massé et al., 2017a, 2017b;Roe et al.,
Full text of the statement can be found at
security-personnel-and-tactics-in-the-training-of-africa-s-rangers.html (ac-
cessed 08.01.18).
R. Duy et al. Biological Conservation 232 (2019) 66–73
Another dimension of the political economy of militarised con-
servation is that this practice can become commodied in itself. For
instance, it may become a form of spectaclethat is central to fun-
draising eorts by enticing consumersto directly fund armed con-
servation eorts. An example is the multi-media campaign launched by
the Virunga Foundation after the release of Virunga, the movie
whereby the viewer is asked to become part of Virunga's epic ghtby
donating money, for instance to fund patrols or dog-tracking teams,
without understanding the on the ground eects of these strategies in
this conict zone (Marijnen and Verweijen, 2016).
The redistribution of resources, attention, and focus resulting from
green militarisation and the political economy of fundraising that has
emerged around it also has broader ecological impacts. This is espe-
cially the case in areas where (para)military actors are at the helm.
Massé (2018), for example, demonstrates how many conservationists in
areas where former and current military personnel have increasing
decision-making power are concerned about the impacts this has on
broader conservation activities. Similar concerns are voiced with re-
gards to shifts in fundraising practices that focus on simplistic under-
standings of poaching and the responses needed. The result is an in-
creasing allocation of scarce resources to (para)militarised enforcement
approaches, and away from other conservation priorities that may be
less spectacular, but no less important. Indeed, ocials from South
African National Parks draw attention to how rangers in Kruger spend
90% of their time hunting potential rhino poachers at the expense of
their more traditional conservation management and monitoring roles
like basic ecological and landscape monitoring assessments (Annecke
and Masubele, 2016;Hübschle and Jooste, 2017). This is coupled with a
shift in ranger training away from holistic conservation and ecological
management towards more narrow paramilitary and counter-in-
surgency tactics (Ibid.; Lunstrum, 2014). Our research indicates similar
trends in Mozambique and elsewhere in Sub-Saharan Africa. This is a
worrying development for the broader state of biodiversity conserva-
tion now and in the long term, as resources are diverted away from
activities that are essential to the ecological integrity of protected areas.
Therefore, more research into how the trend of conservation's militar-
isation risks jeopardizing the broader ecological health of protected
areas is needed.
3. Conclusion
It is vitally important to reect on militarised actions and inter-
ventions in conservation. Failure to do so, especially in urgent situa-
tions, can lead to a greatly enhanced willingness to use violence, with
counterproductive and unjust outcomes for people and for wildlife. The
sense of urgency produced by concerns that wildlife poaching and
tracking will lead to extinctions has led to the argument that there is a
need to act before it is too late. Moreover, this urgency feeds into ap-
peals that the ends (saving species) justify the means (use of force, in-
cluding deadly force). However, conservationists must not simply ac-
cept this as a stark no choicepathway for tackling tracking and
poaching. Amidst the sense of urgency to save wildlife and prevent
extinctions via any means necessary, those who favour and support
militarisation have not paid enough attention to how it will funda-
mentally reshape conservation in the longer term; in this Perspective
piece we have cast light on the wider dimensions of, and potential
problems with, relying on a militarised approach.
In order to conserve species and develop socially just and sustain-
able strategies we need critical, imaginative, and often uncomfortable
thinking to get us out of the urgencyof the moment and put things,
literally and guratively, in perspective. This Perspectives piece is in-
tended as a rst step towards that: the negative eects of militarisation
and the criticisms of it need to be made clear in order to build eective
alternative approaches. Developing such alternatives also means that it
is essential that we develop an understanding of all the steps that lead
to the specic moment when rangers encounter poachers, think about
how and why people engage in poaching and what the eects of using
forceful strategies are on rangers, their families and wider social net-
works. In addition, we should further analyse the political economy of
militarised conservation, learn lessons from the past (including the
colonial legacies that produced poaching), think through the challenges
of conservation in contexts of armed conict and consider how rangers
and communities in and around protected areas experience militarisa-
tion. Further research inspired by this kind of thinking can facilitate the
design of conservation policies that aim to conserve species in ways that
are sustainable, eective and locally acceptable.
Failure to engage more critically with militarisation will make
things worse for the people involved, and could lead to poor con-
servation outcomes as well. The use of forceful and violent strategies in
conservation can be counterproductive and can lock conservationists
into an escalation of violence, a dynamic that also risks undermining
other conservation priorities. Yet, we only have a partial grasp on the
full range of implications of the militarisation of conservation, and its
intersections with broader social, political and economic contexts.
Social sciences (as well as Arts and Humanities) researchers therefore
have much to oer in developing future research on militarised con-
servation. Such research provides important opportunities for dialogue
to develop better conservation practice, with more positive outcomes
for wildlife and for people.
The research for this piece was supported by BIOSEC: Biodiversity and
Security, Understanding Environmental Crime, Illegal Wildlife Trade and
Threat Finance. ERC Advanced Investigator Grant. Number 694995; and
by UKRI grant number ES/P008038/1.
The authors would like to thank Professor Dan Brockington, Dr
Brock Bersaglio and the Political Ecology Reading Group at the
University of Sheeld for their insightful comments on earlier drafts.
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... Trust can be broken when stakeholders feel that other parties' interests are being promoted at their expense [46]. This typically correlates with varying perceptions, uses, priorities, and impacts of wildlife or existing power gradients, such as the rural-urban gradient or the Global South-North gradient, or strongly divergent traditions in institutional settings and results in in-group versus out-group dynamics [14,[46][47][48]. Important trust-building mechanisms consist of transparent and fair decision-making processes and the ensured participation of all parties [46,49]. ...
... Notably, the inclusion of local communities in management contributes to supportive community conditions. Externally imposed rules can lead to animosity towards conservation or forms of "resistance poaching" that purposely target key conservation species [10,14]. In Europe, hunters could historically largely act independently in their concession, and the increasing influence of conservation bodies and the return of predators seem to jeopardize this exclusive control over huntable wildlife. ...
... In Europe, hunters could historically largely act independently in their concession, and the increasing influence of conservation bodies and the return of predators seem to jeopardize this exclusive control over huntable wildlife. In sub-Saharan Africa, however, and among some conservation agents, exclusionary and militarised approaches are becoming the norm, which arouses deep levels of mistrust among residents [14,18]. Conversely, well-implemented inclusive approaches benefit the social, economic, and ecological outcomes of PAs [25] by ensuring equity and trust, reinforcing positive attitudes, and considering the plurality of cultural values associated with nature [50]. ...
Full-text available
Hunting and its impacts on wildlife are typically studied regionally, with a particular focus on the Global South. Hunting can, however, also undermine rewilding efforts or threaten wildlife in the Global North. Little is known about how hunting manifests under varying socioeconomic and ecological contexts across the Global South and North. Herein, we examined differences and commonalities in hunting characteristics across an exemplary Global South-North gradient approximated by the Human Development Index (HDI) using face-to-face interviews with 114 protected area (PA) managers in 25 African and European countries. Generally, we observed that hunting ranges from the illegal, economically motivated, and unsustainable hunting of herbivores in the South to the legal, socially and ecologically motivated hunting of ungulates within parks and the illegal hunting of mainly predators outside parks in the North. Commonalities across this Africa-Europe South-North gradient included increased conflict-related killings in human-dominated landscapes and decreased illegal hunting with beneficial community conditions, such as mutual trust resulting from community involvement in PA management. Nevertheless, local conditions cannot outweigh the strong effect of the HDI on unsustainable hunting. Our findings highlight regional challenges that require collaborative, integrative efforts in wildlife conservation across actors, while identified commonalities may outline universal mechanisms for achieving this goal.
... They have once again started to experiment with more flexible, community-oriented protected areas. Consensual approaches are intended to reduce conflict with local populations as well as avoid the international opprobrium militarised approaches to conservation have received over recent years (Duffy et al., 2019). Addressing livelihood concerns through new conservation models effectively opens up new regions for frontier expansion ...
... Building on the literature covering conflicts surrounding biodiversity conservation in the Global South, I seek to explain why the Batwa's decision to return to the forest should not have come as a surprise. In addition to studying the direct violence involved in fortress and militarised approaches to conservation (Duffy, 2014;Verweijen and Marijnen, 2016;Duffy et al., 2019), the literature sheds light on the long-run social consequences of protected areassuch as marginalisation, impoverishment, increased mortality, and loss of cultural values (Lasgorceix and Kothari, 2009). There is an equally substantial body of literature on resistance to the new territorial arrangements established through coercive protected areas (Norgrove and Hulme, 2006;Holmes, 2007;Wilshusen, 2009;Cavanagh and Benjaminsen, 2015;Mariki, Svarstad and Benjaminsen, 2015). ...
... Third, several commentators have called for the demilitarisation of conservation in violent frontier regions like eastern DRC and more broadly (Verweijen and Marijnen, 2016;Duffy et al., 2019). Based on my research in Kahuzi-Biega National Park, I contest this and question the feasibility of pursuing conservation through means other than militarily in such contexts. ...
... Overlooking these conflicts, or attempting to conserve biodiversity from unilateral perspectives (e.g. militarisation of conservation to tackle wildlife poaching and trafficking), can lead to unintended consequences, such as exacerbating injustices, even escalated violence (Duffy et al., 2019;Martin et al., 2020). On the other hand, although sometimes challenging, engaging with the multi-faceted complexity in conservation policy-making processes facilitates meeting socio-economic and ecological goals in the long term (e.g. ...
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Addressing the global extent of the current biodiversity crisis requires engaging with the existence of multiple equally legitimate values, but also with diverse ethical perspectives underpinning conceptions of right and wrong actions. However, western monist positions have mostly explicitly or implicitly directed conservation strategies by defining the space of legitimate arguments, overlooking solutions that do not fit neatly the chosen approaches. As ignoring diverse ethical positions leads to injustices and reduces the potential of conserving biodiversity, there is a need to recognise and navigate the ethical landscape. Ethical pluralism may provide opportunities to do so. However, the ethical underpinnings of pluralism have not been fully considered in biodiversity conservation. In this article, we elaborate the meaning, importance and limits of ethical pluralism while highlighting opportunities and challenges that the position may entail in biodiversity conservation science and practice. We argue that ethical pluralism allows recognising not only the existence of incommensurable plural values, but also that moral conflicts should embrace intra and inter-cultural criticism and the legitimacy of agonism and dissent, as opposed to monistic and relativistic approaches. We conclude by discussing how grounding ethical pluralism in environmental justice and environmental pragmatism may contribute to navigating the ethical landscape in biodiversity conservation. Particularly, we highlight opportunities to: i) promote (non-anthropocentrically understood) recognition and environmental justice in biodiversity conservation and, ii) move beyond theoretical debates seeking the single best ethical theory and focus on ethical diversity as a common source of possible solutions.
... Initiatives such as the Half Earth proposal and overpopulation narratives are examples of crisis narratives, which stress the urgency of conservation interventions in response to an impending crisis. However, while crisis narratives are useful in that they can motivation fast actions to halt environmental degradation, they tend to overlook or minimize interactions between people and resources (Berdej, Andrachuk and Armitage, 2015), which can lead to neglecting ethical considerations and may drive human rights abuses; for example, conservationists have defended militarized conservation tactics as necessary for protecting against mass extinction (Duffy et al., 2019). Crisis narratives privilege scientific knowledge and lean heavily on ideas of wilderness as an Edenic and human-evacuated landscape, leading to a reliance on 'top down' policy solutions that exclude people from nature or may portray IPLC who do not comply as poachers and criminals (Campbell, 2002). ...
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Both local and global stressors threaten coral reefs, putting the food security, cultural continuity, and livelihoods of millions of reef-dependent people at risk. Still, scientists lack an understanding of how climate-driven heat stress interacts with local stressors such as fishing and pollution to influence reef health. Coral reef communities in the Marshall Islands and Kiribati, both low-lying atoll nations in the central Pacific, offer an opportunity to examine these interactions. The Gilbert Islands of Kiribati, which straddle the equator, experience highly variable sea surface temperatures (SSTs) inter-annually due to El Niño / Southern Oscillation, driving coral bleaching events in 2004/2005 and 2009/2010, while the Marshall Islands further north of the equator experience more stable SSTs. Both nations are home to degraded reefs near their capitol atolls, which host over half of each country’s populations. I first analyzed the benthic trajectories of coral reefs in the Gilbert Islands from 2012, 2014, 2016, and 2018, across a gradient of local human disturbance after multiple stressors, including two heat stress events and an outbreak of the corallivorous Crown-of-Thorns (CoTs) starfish, finding that locally degraded reefs were more resistant to heat stress than less trafficked reefs because the former were home to hardier taxa. Next, comparing locally disturbed and undisturbed reefs in Kiribati to those in the Marshalls demonstrated that the interactions between local and global stressors were context-dependent; the taxa that were present dictated the interactions. Then, via a meta-analysis of 1,205 sites in the Indian and Pacific Oceans, I demonstrated that a proxy often used to assess the effects of local human disturbance on reef health, the percent cover of macroalgae, does not correlate with local human disturbance. Instead, different genera of macroalgae exhibited diverse and often opposing responses to various sources of local human disturbance. Finally, I used public archives from an email listserv popular among the coral conservation community to analyze the policy narratives used by participants when discussing local threats to reefs, the actors involved in the local threat, their distal drivers, and the proposed solutions, revealing underlying assumptions about reefs and local people, which could inadvertently undermine conservation.
... When conservationists and planners use drones to document landscapes, they should avoid having drone technology reproduce stereotypical images of human-nature interactions or become part of the militarization of conservation (Duffy, Massé, Smidt, Marijnen, Büscher, Verweijen, Ramutsindela, Simlai, Joanny, & Lunstrum, 2019). Such a use could lead to an atmosphere of fear and alienation of the local populations (Humle, Duffy, Roberts, & John, 2014). ...
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Negotiated solutions among contrasting land use interests in the nexus of water, energy, food and ecosystems require cooperation between actors with different viewpoints and backgrounds. We suggest aerial imagery and videos, captured by drones, to be “boundary objects”, easily interpretable landscape representations that might create a common understanding across stakeholders through their universal interpretability. We collected drone imagery and videos from different angles of a wide range of landscapes in Zambia, showing agricultural areas, forests, wetlands and water infrastructure. Then, we took the imagery back to the field to probe the perceptions of multiple stakeholders, including staff from both governmental and non-governmental organizations, hydropower operators, small- and large-scale farmers. In focus group discussions, we assessed the interpretability of oblique images, taken at an angle by a video drone, compared to nadir (vertical) imagery from Google Earth and from a high-end mapping drone. We show that oblique images produced better identification results across all groups of stakeholders, but especially from small-scale farmers, suggesting this type of imagery is helpful to empower people who lack previous experience in interpreting nadir images. Overall, the appreciation of the aesthetic value and the perceived professional benefits of drone imagery are high, but technical and legal barriers impede a wider adoption of the technology. While we highlight ethical concerns and technical limitations, we suggest that conservationists and environmental planners could benefit from a critical use of affordable video drones so as to produce intuitive landscape representations useful for more effective multi-stakeholder collaborations.
This article introduces ‘eco-war tourism’, a growing niche in which tourists venture into war zones to seek adventure and ‘save’ nature from its violent surroundings. In Virunga National Park in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, such tourists can experience the ‘threat of mortality’ while visiting mountain gorillas, contribute to the survival of the park and supposedly participate in regional peacebuilding. This article considers how the amalgamated commodification of war and gorillas leads to the bunkerization of tourism, the reconfiguration of space into ‘safe’ and ‘dangerous’ areas and the militarization of conservation. It links critical security studies and political ecology to theorize how eco-war tourism intensifies green militarization and how militarized conservation itself becomes a spectacularized tourist attraction. Eco-war tourism is informed by, and productive of, various affective geographies, entrenched in colonial durabilities that produce Eurocentric ideas about how and by whom nature should be protected. I call for critical security studies to examine how diverse security interventions – e.g. military, tourism, humanitarianism and conservation – are entangled in and reconfigure inherently political nature–society relations and underscore the futility of approaching ‘society’ and ‘the environment’ as separate fields of security.
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Indigenous Protected and Conserved Areas (IPCAs), a form of Indigenous-led conservation, are gaining momentum in Turtle Island/Canada. While advancing Indigenous and decolonial futurities through IPCAs, Indigenous Nations may encounter various obstacles originating from settler colonial practices, policies, and systems. I draw on political ecology, critical engagements with reconciliation, and insights from my qualitative research to investigate IPCAs as potential processes of reconciliation and thus potentially transformative interventions into mainstream conservation. Unlike state-led parks and protected areas, Indigenous Nations establish and have a primary role governing IPCAs, which center Indigenous priorities, laws, and knowledge. This contrasts with parks and protected areas that have displaced Indigenous Peoples, appropriated territories, and imposed Eurocentric values and governance systems. Crown governments and the conservation sector are increasingly mobilizing reconciliation discourse in the context of conservation, but it is unclear what is or could be reconciled through IPCAs. I conducted community-engaged research with the Tsilhqot’in-led Dasiqox Nexwagweẑʔan IPCA and Kitasoo Xai’xais Stewardship Authority located in Tsilhqot’in and Kitasoo Xai’xais territories respectively (British Columbia). My research approach is informed by critical methodologies including decolonizing, Indigenous, and feminist methods. Key findings include: 1) Insights from previous land use and conservation planning processes reveal the risk of Crown governments and the conservation sector potentially undermining Indigenous governance and IPCAs; 2) IPCAs could be pathways of reconciliation if Crown governments and the conservation sector dismantle the roadblocks arising from settler ontologies and institutions; and 3) In the face of multiple legal hurdles, cultivating decolonial legal pluralism and engaging in legislative reform is feasible, can support Indigenous jurisdiction and governance, and could contribute to reconciliation through IPCAs. This study contributes to emerging decolonial political ecology work in the Global North by bringing the concerns of decolonization and reconciliation into political ecologies of conservation in Turtle Island/North America.
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Climate change and biodiversity loss are serious concerns for environmental researchers and conservationists. However, the impact of climate change and biodiversity loss disproportionately affects low-income communities, indigenous groups, and people of colour. Conservation initiatives, however, sometimes perpetuate historical injustices of marginalised people. We argue that environmental justice may be effectively merged with conservation psychology to promote a just conservation psychology. We discuss a case study of a South African community impacted by conservation-related environmental injustices under apartheid. We discuss the role of capacity building in a community-based conservation initiative that promotes justice, human wellbeing, and conservation goals.
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Business is both the main driver of the planet’s current catastrophic loss of biodiversity and the key to stemming it. To address this challenge, a business strategy is developed wherein firms launch profitable business lines that harness market forces to fund projects that result in the enhancement of biodiversity. This strategy leverages existing systems for managing at-risk ecosystems and introduces a new procedure for minimizing the costs of such projects while maximizing their positive impacts on biodiversity. These business lines are built by first, understanding the political context of a particular biodiversity threat; second, designing a profitable product or service that is tied to a minimum-cost project that enhances biodiversity; and third, reporting the current and future impact of the project to those customers who want to know if their purchases are actually curbing the destruction. A new parameter learning algorithm within a political-ecological system simulator is used to model how the actions of firms change the beliefs of people to the point where they adopt ecosystem-preserving behaviors. The newly developed and available software that implements this procedure is applied to the conservation of white (Ceratotherium simum) and black (Diceros bicornis) rhinoceroses in South Africa.
Conservation rules – e.g. protected area regulations that aim to reduce wildlife poaching – often have an inherent challenge: while relying on that locals should share intelligence about observed crime to authorities, such rules tend to be weakly supported by these communities. Enforcement officials of conservation authorities (such as rangers) are seldom trusted, and this in turn raises doubts about whether locals will provide sufficient information about conservation crime, which is not the least needed in all those settings where a small number of rangers are tasked to monitor vast areas. The case of wildlife poaching in African countries illustrates this tension, where rangers are few, sometimes have a dubious record, and where offenders often are on good terms with locals. This article asks: Why do some locals choose to assist rangers and report on poachers, while others refrain from doing so? We conducted a survey in the years 2017–2018 directed towards 2300 residents in and near the Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park in Mozambique, South Africa, and Zimbabwe, where a major challenge is both subsistence and commercial forms of poaching. Our focus was primarily on subsistent poaching. We also conducted in-depth interviews with rangers and park officials to corroborate that our quantitative insights point to the same description of the situation. Our survey demonstrates that people that are afraid of rangers and perceive them as corruptible are less willing to assist in information-sharing. Seeing poaching as condemnable increases people’s propensity to report on illegal activities. In contrast, individuals’ stakes in conservation and perceptions of wildlife as threatened do not predict our outcome. Our findings suggest that to achieve a more thorough involvement of locals in the enforcement of conservation laws, policy needs to change how communities perceive both officials and rules.
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Donors, NGOs, and governments increasingly invest in campaigns to reduce consumer demand for wildlife products in an attempt to prevent the decline of overexploited and poached species. We provide a novel framework to aid these investment decisions based on a demand reduction campaign's return on investment compared to antipoaching law enforcement. A resulting decision rule shows that the relative effectiveness of demand reduction compared to increased enforcement depends entirely on social and economic uncertainties rather than ecological ones. Illustrative case studies on bushmeat and ivory reveal that campaigning to reduce demand may be more cost‐effective than antipoaching enforcement if demand reduction campaigns drive modest price reductions. The outputs from this framework can link targeted monitoring of wildlife product prices to management decisions that protect species threatened by harvest and trade.
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Attitudes among conservation biologists towards technological innovations and solutions have changed over the years from mistrusting and dismissive to widely accepting. However, the time has come for the conservation community to move from being technology consumers to become innovation leaders and to actively seek to create novel technologies to provide conservation tools and solutions. This challenging but critical mind‐set change requires thinking outside the box to establish and support the necessary bridges between the conservation community, technologists in both the public and the private sectors, and policy makers. The ingredients already exist, but success hinges on an open mind to new types of interactions, and bold but coordinated movements to nurture the organisational ecosystem in which such collaborations can thrive and be funded. This article is protected by copyright. All rights reserved
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Much research on nature conservation in war-torn regions focuses on the destructive impact of violent conflict on protected areas, and argues that transnational actors should step up their support for those areas to mitigate the risks that conflict poses to conservation efforts there. Overlooked are the effects transnational efforts have on wider conflict dynamics and structures of public authority in these regions. This article describes how transnational actors increasingly gained influence over the management of Virunga National Park in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), and how these actors contributed to the militarization of conservation in Virunga. Most scholarly literature suggests that ‘green militarization’ contributes to the extension of state authority over territory and population, yet this is not the case in Virunga. Instead, the militarization of Virunga translates into practices of extra-state territorialization, with the result that many in the local population perceive the park's management as a project of personalized governance and/or a ‘state within a state’. This article thus argues that it is important to depart from an a priori notion of the ‘state’ when considering the nexus of conservation practices and territorialization, and to analyse this intersection through the lens of public authority instead.
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This article introduces the special issue on 'Political Ecologies of Green Wars' and the research papers comprising it. While state-authorised and state-directed forms of violence in support of conservation have been evident in many places for quite some time, the current scope, scale and rhetorical justification of the violent defence of biodiversity seem quite unprecedented in the history of global conservation. We, therefore, ask whether and how the term green wars may be appropriate to describe this new intensity of violence and the changes in environmental governance it signifies. In bringing together a number of important recent discussions around green grabbing, green militarisation/violence, green economy, neoliberal conservation and biopower, amongst others, the special issue emphasises the increasingly central role of environmental and conservation concerns within the global political economy as a whole. In the process, it also points towards an overarching conceptual framing for understanding these conjoined dynamics in terms of an 'intensification of pressure' precipitated by the combined yet uneven magnification and integration of power and capital within the world today. Consequently, we argue that the concept of green wars potentially heralds the new twenty- first century 'real-politik' of the centrality of violence and conflict both to the neoliberal political economy and to environmental conservation, and their integrated socio-ecological manifestations and effects.
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Intensifying global dynamics of wildlife crime are rapidly reshaping conservation politics, practices and geographies. Most pronounced are the manifold violent responses to wildlife crime, including direct lethal action and increasing anticipatory action to prevent these crimes from happening in the first place. This paper reflects on these dynamics in relation to recent literature that employs Foucault's concept of biopower to understand the governance of increasingly precarious human and non-human life. Building on Brian Massumi's exposition of ontopower – an 'environmental power' that “alters the life environment's conditions of emergence” – I explore whether we are seeing a move from bio- to ontopower where the imperative is less the construction of systemic forms of governmentality to ensure life's ‘optimisation’ than on processually pre-empting incipient tendencies towards unknown but certain future threats to life. Phrased differently, ontopower focuses on how to prevent nature's destruction in the future through pre-emptive measures in the present. Drawing on empirical research on violent responses to rhino poaching in South Africa, the paper argues that we are seeing the uneven emergence of new geographies of conservation based on ontopower. It concludes by speculating whether conservation's insecurity is turning into its pre-emptive other by making (green) war necessary for non-human life's survival.
This book provides a comprehensive, global exploration of the scale, scope, threats, and drivers of wildlife trafficking from a criminological perspective. Building on the first edition, it takes into account the significant changes in the international context surrounding these issues since 2013. It provides new examples, updated statistics, and discusses the potential changes arising as a result of COVID-19 and the IPBES 2019 report. It also discusses the shift in trafficking ‘hotspots’ and the recent projects that have challenged responses to wildlife trafficking. It undertakes a distinctive exploration of who the victims and offenders of wildlife trafficking are as well as analysing the stakeholders who are involved in collaborative efforts to end this devastating green crime. It unpacks the security implications of wildlife trade and trafficking and possible responses and ways to combat it. It provides useful and timely information for social and environmental/life scientists, law enforcement, NGOs, and policy makers. Tanya Wyatt is Professor of Criminology at Northumbria University, UK. Her research focuses on green crimes, such as wildlife trafficking and animal welfare, and these crimes' intersection with organized crime, corporate crime, and corruption.
Over the past decade, South Africa's Kruger National Park has become embroiled in a rhino poaching crisis. In response, state authorities are applying military logics, personnel, training, and equipment to protect endangered black and threatened white rhinos. Many suspected poachers are Mozambicans, including those who are resident in Mozambique's Limpopo National Park (LNP). Based on a sequence of fieldwork conducted in the LNP between 2003 and 2016, we examine the relationship between this extremely tense and armed clash and the thousands of already socially and economically marginalized LNP residents targeted for resettlement as part of conserving rhino habitat. As they await relocation, the basic human security of residents has become deeply undermined by decreased access to basic services and environmental resources and the criminalization of their livelihoods. While much of the critical scholarship on anti-poaching focuses on the spectacular forms of violence that characterize rhino poaching, beneath this a more structural and “slower” form of violence persists. Seeking to develop an understanding of violence that extends beyond the spectacular, we argue that the cumulative losses and instability that have followed conservation created the conditions under which rhino poaching unfolded in the LNP. Communities found guilty of rhino poaching by mere association bear tremendous costs while the reduction of resettlement to an urgent need to control aberrant human behavior masks tremendous opportunity costs forgone. Better understandings of these costs and their links to violence need be taken seriously in any serious discussions of poaching response and poaching motivation.
Conservation organizations are increasingly using tourism and social media to raise funds and support for anti-poaching interventions. This article examines how these strategies represent poaching and the responses that are ostensibly needed to disrupt it. To do so, I draw on ethnographic fieldwork in the rhino poaching hotspot of the Mozambique-South Africa borderlands and analyze social media and tourism campaigns from organizations in the area. These campaigns emphasize violently decimated wildlife, threatened rangers, and the subsequent need for a securitized conservation. They obscure or neglect the social relations influencing poaching and related violence, other conservation priorities, and the implications of hardline enforcement measures and militarized anti-poaching practices. The strategic ways in which poaching is made legible and consumable to a broad audience and how this shapes conservation practice constitutes what I call anti-poaching's politics of (in)visibility. I emphasize how this politics and its simplistic representations of poaching and solutions may undermine the long-term sustainability of conservation efforts in two ways. First, anti-poaching's politics of (in)visibility vitalizes a militarized response, leading to negative social implications that alienate people adjacent protected areas. Second, it jeopardizes the mundane ecological management activities vital to effective conservation. Understanding anti-poaching's politics of (in)visibility thus contributes to a more robust political-ecology of anti-poaching specifically, and of conservation in the current context of heightened commercial poaching and efforts to disrupt it more generally. The article ends with a discussion of how a politics of visibility might be harnessed for a more sustainable approach to the poaching problematic.
State actors are increasingly treating protected areas as sites of security threats and policing resident communities as though they are the cause of this insecurity. This is translating into community eviction from protected areas that is authorised by security concerns and logics and hence not merely conservation concerns. We ground this claim by drawing upon empirical work from two borderland conservation areas: Mozambique's Limpopo National Park (LNP) and Guatemala's Maya Biosphere Reserve (MBR). In both cases, we show how these security-provoked evictions are authorised by the mobilisation of interlocking axes of difference that articulate notions of territorial trespass with that of a racialised enemy. Rather than a new problem or phenomena, we show how these axes are rooted in prior histories of state actors rendering racialised subjects dangerous, Cold War histories in both cases and a longer colonial history with the LNP. We also show how standing behind these evictions is the nation-state and its practices of protected area territorialisation. From here, we illustrate how the rationale behind displacement from protected areas matters, as evictions become more difficult to contest once they are authorised by security considerations. The cases, however, differ in one key respect. While displacement from the LNP is an instance of conservation-induced displacement (CID), although one re-worked by security considerations, eviction from the MBR is motivated more centrally by security concerns yet takes advantage of protected area legislation. The study hence offers insight into a growing literature on conservation-security encounters and into different articulations of conservation, security, and displacement.
This article illustrates how for-profit actors and private wealth vitalize state power, here in the form of advancing the state's project of militarized conservation. My contribution complements, first, the neoliberal natures and conservation literature, which largely sees state power as diminished by neoliberal processes or else reinvented as a handmaiden of capital. In contrast and by drawing in part on Gramscian perspectives of state natures, the study shows how capitalism and wealth help consolidate state power and do so by enabling green militarization. More specifically, drawing on the case of commercial rhino poaching in Southern Africa, I show how state power is vitalized by the contributions of for-profit military corporations and the private wealth of affluent benefactors financing rhino relocation. Vitalization here encompasses how these economic actors and their contributions help the state shore up power over territory and resources but at a deeper level enable biopolitical intervention in the realm of (rhino) life and (poacher) death. In so doing, these actors and contributions allow the state to further establish its own significance and centrality, that is, its own vitality. The article is hence a call for a more robust reinsertion of the state back into our investigations of the economy, nature, and conservation and especially their intersections. By bringing together the neoliberal conservation, Gramscian state natures, and green militarization literatures, the article equally offers a view into how these intersections can result in novel, often lethal forms of militarized state making.