by Linda Tucker
Since the minister’s announcement, a policy for regulating “the management of large predators” was drafted and comment was invited from “interested and affected parties.” As a lion ecologist, Jason was identified as one of several experts in the field and asked to submit scientific papers for the minister to review.
Jason’s report was painstakingly well researched and comprehensive. He addressed key issues: acceptable practices in large-predator management; natural lion behavioral traits; size of enclosures that might be considered humane for holding captive predators; minimum period for their scientific rehabilitation; and other aspects vital to the management of large predators in captivity.
That’s the good news. Hopefully, once a prohibition of canned hunting is implemented, it will not only regulate widespread malpractices, but it will also be applicable in our unique case and finally free up Marah—the sacred lioness trapped at the dead center of this raging debate. However, the bad news is we don’t have good reason to believe we can rely on government action. I’ve watched over the last few years how legislation outlawing canned hunting has been proposed, revised, postponed, and then proposed once again. Meanwhile, there’s little to no policing of this subindustry, which brazenly acts outside of any ethical constraints. Accustomed to getting their own way by killing, the canned-hunting mafia continues to explode into a thriving multinational business, and the international trophy price for captive lions has skyrocketed once again.
Over the past few months, more public participation meetings have been held; polls have been taken; and a panel of experts appointed. However, the findings of this panel of experts were not made public. Disturbingly, these and other irregularities over nearly a decade of procrastination point to vested interests at top levels.
ON ALL FRONTS, A BLOODIED CAMPAIGN is raging, internationally, nationally, and right on our very doorstep. As if the dangers from the international canned-hunting cartels are not enough, the White Lions are also at risk here in the wildlands of their origin, where they should be celebrated and cherished as this country’s most precious and protected animal.
Finally, last month, a breakthrough occurred. Several landowners in the region broke rank and approached us in a private bid to club together in an anti-hunting campaign. Their initiative followed a spate of incidents of unethical lion hunts in these parts, which were boldly reported in national papers. Using those botched trophy hunts as leverage, the breakaway faction has managed to achieve a temporary moratorium on lion hunting in the Timbavati and neighboring reserves, while the minister of environment assesses the validity of their claims. Their argument is a commercial one, and for this reason they’ve reached the ear of the minister, at least temporarily. They argue that since Timbavati and other neighboring reserves share an open border with the adjacent Kruger National Park ecosystem, whereby the private reserves allow national game to roam freely onto their land, the very same animals protected by law in the national park can be trophy-hunted once they cross into private territory. In other words, these reserves are hunting national assets for private gain.
While it is based on a commercial rationale, we view the moratorium as a huge step forward, even though the White Lions’ protection isn’t specifically part of the equation yet. Not surprisingly, it has further intensified the negative atmosphere on our borders, enraging many private landowners in the region because suddenly, trophy-hunting activities they’ve enjoyed and benefitted from for several decades have been provisionally outlawed.
Over the past few months, we’ve been to numerous government-led forums, where we’ve sat for hours at a time in government-issue chairs arranged in rows in dreary bureaucratic halls, alongside officials, scientists, some leading conservation entities, and a number of animal-welfare groups, following a seemingly interminable agenda, and engaging in endless debates on this highly inflammatory subject. It’s understandable that formulating and promulgating legislation is a slow process, so, until today, we were still hopeful. However, a government meeting we have just attended took a serious downward turn.
Jason and I arrived well before this morning’s meeting opened and were joined by the usual seasoned campaigners. But one look at our allies this morning and I noted they’d given up before we got started. We also noted that, among the so-called “interested and affected parties,” there was representation from some well-known trophy-hunting outfitters, the most famous being Safari Club International operating out of Las Vegas, so we knew the debate would heat up. From the outset, the forum had the makings of an orderly dispute, but as the morning agenda rolled out on the merits of the legalized misdemeanors, it soon was met with an excruciatingly combative atmosphere. By comparison, the Jos Macs gathering seemed like a tea party.
After a Nature Conservation official in a safari suit pronounces the meeting officially open, secondary officials proceed to hand out the revised policy document. That is the first disappointment. On carefully reviewing the official document, we notice that none of the recommendations made by Jason and the Global White Lion Protection Trust’s scientific team, as part of a panel of experts and direct stakeholders, have been included in the new policy. In fact, from a conservationist and animal-welfare point of view, the policy is an unmitigated disaster. While the document begins with clear declaration of intent—“to prohibit the activity known as canned hunting”—the rest of the policy is so riddled with loopholes and inconsistencies that, in reality, it allows for this malpractice to continue unabated.
So the meeting opens at a low point, and then it gets worse. The moratorium on trophy hunting in Timbavati and neighboring reserves isn’t officially on the day’s agenda, but Jason and I intend to raise the issue, while lodging an appeal for the White Lions’ urgent protection. However, as the morning’s program unfolds, we don’t get close to broaching the topic.
When the first tea break is called, Jason and I group together with some other anti-canned-hunting campaigners. By contrast with most of these activists, we started the day optimistic, believing this government forum was an opportunity to influence positive change in government policy. Most of the other activists argued, by contrast, that it was another elaborate cover-up—behind the process was a hidden agenda with a cynically predetermined outcome. Unfortunately, after assessing how little the policy document reflects the submissions from the panel of experts, we are fast reaching the conclusion the animal activists are right.
A bell has just sounded to indicate the session is reconvening. We’ve walked back into the stuffy auditorium, and I have to actively summon my strength. The official in the safari suit now proceeds by giving a point-by-point explanation of the new draft policy. I’m in a terrible dilemma.
Having finally concluded his explanations, the official invites any contributor to the debate to provide their name and that of their organization, before going on to offer their input. Where should I begin critiquing this policy document?
Having done comprehensive background research into the issues prior to the meeting, both Jason and I have prepared detailed input to contribute to each and every clause in the draft policy document. So I have little trouble formulating a simple, clear argument in support of White Lion conservation. That is not my difficulty. The problem is that the drafting of this policy document is so biased toward commercial rather than conservation practices that the very foundations need reevaluation.
The rationale is founded on short-term material gain for an avaricious few, without any regard for sustainable long-term economics or preservation of natural resources for the future of our planet. In such a banal, materialistic context, and faced with an argument based on crude money only, I’m wrestling with how to formulate a counterargument. If people have lost their hearts and souls, how can one appeal to their value system?
Our justice system is based on the premise of fairness: give and take. So how could any document, based on principles of unfairness, be worthy of the term “legislation”? A one-sided policy that legislates how
humans may lawfully take from Nature without giving anything back—would any right-minded human sign such a document?
I feel utterly appalled by the injustice of it all. While we humans debate whether lions as a species may live or die, the great cats themselves have no say at all. The lions are the primary stakeholders in this process. Stakeholders without a vote. In a country where 90 percent of the population was denied a vote until Apartheid was overthrown and Mandela came into power in 1994, surely the lessons learned from lack of representation count for something?
I glance at my watch. It is 3:00 p.m. A gang of canned hunters has suddenly marched in, in a characteristic posse. They never come alone. Or at a respectful hour. After their dramatic entrance, the semblance of bureaucratic and orderly atmosphere has held tenuously for the past fifteen minutes or so, but they are lurking at the back of the auditorium, directly behind me. I can feel their repressed aggression like a powder keg, waiting to ignite.
I’m angry too. I’m sitting at the edge of my seat, fuming, struggling to find the right way to voice my outrage at the inherent injustice of these policies drafted to “manage” lions, without considering their rights. Or offering them a hearing. Since lion language remains foreign and unlearned, we humans behave as if they—the Kings of all animals—have no voice.
I know Maria would cut to the chase, and demand: What would the lions have to say today?
I need to get that same message across, in my own way. Somehow, I have to make a bridge between our crass human world of self-serving policies and legislation, and the lions’ God-given world of mystery and magic. But there is such discrepancy between modern-day conservation protocols and age-old shamanic belief systems that I’m not convinced even Maria could make that bridge, and nor can I in this grim, bureaucratic government building. Here, where humankind hammers out lion legislation. Maria Khosa handed over her mantle to me, but am I really mandated to speak on behalf of the great cats? Can I represent their case? I’m burning, fuming, feeling so conflicted. Am I up to the task? I prepare myself to stand up and speak out. But as I do so, I feel my voice choking in my throat. If I can’t speak for the lions—here, now, in this context—then who can?
I clear my throat. What would the silent stakeholders have said of this document? Their almighty roar of outrage and despair at the human condition would be deafening!
There’s a painful pause. Behind me, like a smoldering fuse, I feel the canned hunters’ rage and indignation mounting. This policy condemns their newfound livelihood, at least on paper. A livelihood that made them many millions in virtually no time. From their viewpoint, what right does anyone have to deny them such benefits?
Standing, I hear myself speaking now. Deep-down sadness chokes my voice: “White Lions are a cultural heritage. A national treasure. They may not be destroyed for commercial reasons.”
The official, taking minutes, asks me for my name and the organization I represent.
“CEO of the Global White Lion Protection Trust—I’m here to represent the lions.” I say. Now, summoning courage, I add: “Today, we’re deciding the fate of South Africa’s—no, the world’s—lions. Question is: what would they say—the lions—if they were given a voice?”
There is a shocked silence—like at Jos Macs, only bigger, and still rising. A collective response of outrage building. I resist sitting down. I hold my ground, feeling emptied out. A massive shockwave washes over me, tsunami-like, but has anyone heard? I feel flooded then totally drained with exhaustion and oppression. Finally, I sink back into my seat, still breathing. Alive. But all around me, there’s that collective loss of breath.
The official makes a note, at least on paper, then looks up. My contribution hasn’t helped the brimming tensions. Behind me, the representatives of the canned-hunting industry suddenly erupt. First it was the tumultuous water of emotion; now, as they inhale again, it’s fire. Ignited, they’re all suddenly standing, inflamed and fuming, and one marches forward and delivers an attorney’s notice to the official. Although in uniform, the official looks intimidated, and he reads it aloud. They demand to meet the minister himself, face to face. Do they mean a meeting in the Supreme Court or in some dark alley someplace? I note the outrage in their attorney’s tone, as if his clients have been betrayed by government and sold out by the Afrikaner minister himself, and will employ bully-boy tactics to ensure the traitor complies. After a confused, hot-tempered scuffle in the aisle, the lynch gang storms out.
IT’S LATE AFTERNOON, and Jason and I are on the national road, driving back from the government forum in Polokwane. We are relieved to be released from the confined bureaucratic time bomb that exploded in those last moments. Beaten and bruised, I feel unsure whether this high-stress public event represents a step forward, or two steps back. It’s a six-hour drive back home. At least the long drive is an opportunity to unwind; it’ll give us a chance to talk through the escalating pressures and analyze where things are heading.
“So the officials asked you to submit yet another report,” I note, as Jason and I follow the twisting road through the mountains back to the lions’ land. “What’s the point, Jase? None of your recommendations were incorporated in that policy. It’s just greenwashing—who do they think they’re fooling?”
“We’ve got to believe it’ll make some kind of difference,” Jason responds, his eye on the road. “Perseverance and factual accuracy.”
“Sincerely hope so.”
Jason’s driving is steady and focused. I watch the winding road ahead, and wonder where this journey is really taking us. Jason and I have always made sure we equip ourselves with the factual information around highly charged lion conservation issues, so that we are well informed before taking action. But there is such a dark cloud of smoke and mirrors surrounding these issues, it is unlikely many of the concealed facts will ever see the light of day.
“You know, there are times when I almost feel sorry for those canned-hunting guys,” I observe.
“They’re dangerous,” Jason replies.
“And damaged—I think that’s why they cause all the harm they do.”
I think of the man who expressed his view so emphatically in the TV interview, and the formidable mafia boss in his caged fortress on our borders. And, with a shudder, I think of the canned-hunting operator in Bethlehem who once held Marah—and still holds Aslan, together with many other exotic and rare animals, some in coffinlike cages—carving out a flourishing livelihood by taking their lives.
“In my next submission to the government, I’ll need to look more closely at the IFAW report,” Jason is thinking out loud as he drives, planning ahead.
“Good luck, Jase!” I respond, admiring his perseverance. “That’s another document that makes for grim reading.”
In preparation for today’s meeting, Jason and I ensured we were armed with various documents for reference, so I heave my briefcase onto my lap now in the car, snap the clasps open, and remove the report from its folder. Behind us, the low sun is dropping toward the mountains in the west, but there’s sufficient daylight left to read for a while longer.
“Can you check out the section on predator camp sizes and numbers held in those captive camps?” Jason asks.
“Will do.”
The IFAW Report is a comprehensive study by a courageous journalist friend of mine from university days, a trained economist commissioned by the International Fund for Animal Welfare. It was published a month earlier and has made no attempt to detail the atrocities; it simply documents facts and figures for the government’s review. But in some respects, these telling factual details make for the grimmest reading of all. For instance, the report established that there are an estimated four to five thousand lions cooped up in cages waiting to be butchered as trophy heads. These sickening records of legalized crime against wild animals make a farce of the department’s authority to govern this issue in any meaningful way to date. And now there are links emerging between canned hunting and other elicit activities: gun-
running; mercenaries into African countries; trade in animal parts; and, perhaps worst of all, child-prostitution rings.
To solve the crisis and shut down the canned-hunting operations, the minister is advocating mass euthanasia of all the lions held in the captive camps. When this solution was raised at today’s forum, it was firmly supported by a number of the scientists present. To me, it was additionally gruesome that so-called purists in conservation and scientific circles, who’d done nothing to stop this escalating runaway industry, were now arguing that these speed-bred animals should all be exterminated because of the probability that their genetics are impaired. Underneath these heartless scientific pronouncements, I sensed a rising hysteria, and deep-seated fear of Nature and the consequences of meddling with her and her precious creatures.
“Is this appalling ‘final solution’ the best we can do, Jase?” I pose the question, forcing myself not to get overly emotional.
“Under the circumstances, it might be the only solution,” he responds, dropping a gear and overtaking the truck in front of us with grim determination.
The sun drops out of sight in the rearview mirror and dusk falls heavily.
“Better than keeping the killing camps operating, granted,” I concede. “But what a nightmare’s been created—”
“All because the authorities haven’t been willing, or able, to take responsible action,” he observes.
What is the solution? It seems to me it is not the activities themselves, but the consciousness behind them that most urgently needs to change. Why is it that the same practitioners who were once involved in human crimes in Apartheid times are now granted free rein over animal cruelty in the new South Africa? The post-Apartheid government has been so preoccupied with human rights issues that the shocking abuse of animal rights is given carte blanche under their very noses. Worse still, many newly appointed ANC politicians and dignitaries have greedily lined their pockets, without care for human—let alone animal—rights, as if in an attempt to outdo the atrocities of the Apartheid government before them.
