kenya's 35-year Hunting Ban - For What?
Poaching in Tsavo National Park between 1974 and 1976 caused the elephant population to plummet almost 45%, from 35,900 to 20,200. Big tuskers, like this one photographed in 1982, in Tsavo West became a rare sight.
If a bull elephant had been born in 1977, today he’d be approaching 35 years old—a mature animal that would have had plenty of opportunities to pass on his DNA. If it was the right kind and given a nutrient-rich habitat providing him plentiful and nutritious forage, his tusks might be approaching the century mark in weight: 100 pounds per tusk. That is, if he had not been born in Kenya. For had he been, the odds of him living much past his teenage years wouldn’t have been good— ironic considering that Kenya banned big-game hunting 35 years ago under the auspices of concern for the future of their wildlife.
And if someone had told me back in 1972, when I left Kenya to take up a safari job in Botswana with Ker, Downey & Selby Safaris, that within the next 20 years elephant numbers in Kenya (then estimated at more than 150,000) would plummet to less than 20,000, I could not have conceived of it in my wildest imagination, much less that Kenya’s black rhino would also be brought to the brink of extinction. During the previous six years I’d hunted much of Kenya’s prime biggame real estate—areas where black rhino were so common they posed a serious threat to anyone walking unarmed through the bush. And elephants, depending on the rains and time of the season, seemed to be everywhere.
to pressures, both internal and from the outside, banning legal, managed big-game hunting. The move was supported by illinformed opinions and emotional reactions from the world press about the rising price of ivory and consequent poaching that had become so blatant, that it was impossible to ignore.
Blindly accepting the assumed wisdom of the hunting ban, the New York Times proudly announced in a bold-faced headline: "KENYA BANS HUNTING TO SAVE ITS BIG GAME." Kenya’s then Minister of Tourism and Wildlife defended his government’s decision in an article by stating, "Having looked at everything, we decided to make the sacrifice in the interests of conservation for future generations." The UN Environment Program also hailed the hunting ban in terms of the future, describing the closure of legal hunting as "an electrifying and bold move," and a step that "millions of people…interested in East African Wildlife" would be "greatly encouraged" by
But the ultimate irony was lost in the midst of celebrating the hunting ban with over-confident delight. What most of the world failed to recognize was that the ban removed from the bush one of the most effective deterrents against poaching the country had at its disposal — the professional hunters, many of whom were honorary game wardens with arresting powers. These were men who spent most of each year in the bush on safari, and could either take direct action against the poaching they discovered or, at the very least, report it to the authorities who would, hopefully, take action.
By 1977, there was no doubt that Kenya had a problem with its “dwindling wildlife.” Take, for example, the number of elephants being killed at that time. Overall, the annual slaughter amounted to some 15% of the country’s 100,000-plus elephant population. Between 1974 and 1976, it was estimated that one population fell almost 45%, from 35,900 to 20,200. It hardly seemed feasible that the country’s 106 licensed PHs and their clients could account for those kinds of numbers, especially since elephant hunting had been closed since 1973. The specific area where the dramatic plunge in elephant numbers had occurred was in Tsavo National Park, where no legal hunting of any kind had ever been allowed.
The "ivory scandal" that had become an open secret throughout Kenya began brewing in 1973, the minute legal elephant hunting was stopped. The slaughter quickly became serious and involved people at the highest levels of government. Furthermore, rumor had it that it was being facilitated by the complacency, if not connivance, of high-up game department officials themselves — the very ones meant to protect the game. Whether they held a gun or a pen, the future of wildlife was literally in their hands. These officials knew only too well that the presence of legal hunting safaris in the field was a distinct deterrent to the poaching that was either being condoned by the game department or actually controlled by it.
At the same time, Kenya was receiving significant financial aid from the World Wildlife Fund as well as tens of millions of dollars in loans from the World Bank. These two bodies, probably well-intentioned, but naive, tried to stop the elephant killing by threatening to stop both aid and loans if Kenya didn’t do something about it. To keep the money flowing and avoid arresting the president’s family, ministers and highup officials for running ivory poaching, the easiest solution, and what the World Bank was urging, was to ban legal hunting. In 1977, Kenya did just that, signing off on weightless and ineffectual legislation that the world applauded.
While the closure of legal hunting was issued under the empty gesture of bringing poaching under control, stories about board members of the East African Professional Hunter’s Association (EAPHA) meeting with government officials to discuss the situation circulated around Nairobi. The EAPHA proposed a plan to government that would, in effect, establish a highly-organized and highly-effective anti-poaching effort. The plan would serve many purposes, not to mention utilizing all of the safari industry personnel, including professional hunters, their trackers and crew who, thanks to the hunting ban, had suddenly been forced out of work. But the mere suggestion of the proposal caused an immediate and negative reaction from government officials. Not only was the board told ‘no’ to their plan, but when the meeting was adjourned they were instructed to never bring it up again. The government had absolutely no interest in implementing an anti-poaching plan!
The devastating poaching that followed Kenya’s hunting ban will mark the 1970s and 1980s as the bloodiest period in Kenya’s wildlife history, if not in all Africa’s history. Poaching escalated unchecked to unprecedented levels and, eventually, by 1989, brought Kenya’s elephant population down to a low of 16,000.
"Since then," according to statistics gathered by Thomas McIntyre, Sports Afield’s Backcountry columnist, who hunted in Kenya prior to the ban, “the number of elephants has grown back to between 27,000 and 32,000, which, in news reports, comes off as Kenya’s having miraculously doubled the population— yes, except for there being about 135,000 fewer elephants than when they started being ‘fully protected’ back in 1973.
"Today, Kenya, speaking with an authority that defies the very concept of legitimacy, is the most vocal and pious governmental opponent of the easing of any sanctions on the regulated international trade in ivory. Easing of those sanctions is favored by the southern African countries that both permit hu"ting and still have abundant elephants."
At maturity elephants have only two enemies — time and man. The paradox is that while man is the elephant’s biggest threat, he is, at the same time, the only hope for the elephant’s salvation. That is, if the right decisions are taken. The most crucial factor impacting on the elephants’ survival is economics.
Legal, managed hunting of elephants used to account for the single biggest income factor generated through game license and export fees. Most of the countries that allow controlled and managed elephant hunting benefit from the foreign income derived from visiting sportsmen. These moneys provide the incentive for countries to look after their elephants through wellconsidered conservation practices. As such, hunting is a great benefit to the elephant as witnessed in countries such as Tanzania and Botswana where legal hunting of elephants still takes place.
Even mainstream media sources such as the Financial Times ran articles explaining how little money generated by ecotourism finds its way into the hands of communities that must coexist with large mammals, compared with the much greater percentage of revenues from hunting that goes to locals. And Dr. Peter Lindsay of the University of Pretoria, a non-hunter, was quoted as saying that, in Africa, "wildlife has to pay for itself" because "if local people do not benefit, it is usually lost."
So, what is the situation in Kenya today? There is still poaching going on, but as with most of Africa, it is an ongoing problem that takes constant monitoring and action to keep it in check. The biggest threat to Kenya’s wildlife is shrinking habitat due to constant encroachment of rapidly expanding human populations. This causes the subsequent constant conflict that wildlife faces with agricultural interests.
Take, for example, the lion/people battle taking place in Masailand. Historically speaking, the Masai have always fought lions to keep them from eating their livestock and, sometimes, even themselves. But this was a noble endeavor taken up with shield and spear to deal with problem lions, one at a time. Today, Kenya lions, though protected, are succumbing to chemical poisons that are doused on meat or poured into waterholes. It’s effective indeed, not only wiping out complete prides of lions at a time, but also the attendant scavengers, including leopards, hyenas, jackals, and vultures that eat what is left of tainted meat, or drink from contaminated waterholes. Thirty-five years ago, it was estimated that Kenya had around 20,000 lions; today, it has less than 2,000.
As recently as 2006, a “think tank” comprising members of the Kenya Wildlife Service, a conservation organization called the East African Wildlife Society, and private landowners concluded that “sustainable, science-guided consumptive utilization (read: “licensed hunting”)” was the way to establish a monetary value for wildlife among local peoples and thereby guarantee its future in Kenya. After a year of strenuous effort and enticing hope, the government of Kenya announced that the ban on big-game hunting would continue. And so it does. For those of us fortunate enough to have seen Kenya in pre-hunting ban days, “hope springs eternal,” and we place our faith solidly in the certain knowledge that there’s always the “maybe” of next year
