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Abell & Youldon (2013) claim that restoration of lions using captive-origin animals can contribute to in situ lion conservation, suggesting it is comparable to established methods using wild-caught founders. Their argument hinges on an attempt to discredit using wild lions to restore populations but they ignore the empirical record of longstanding success from this approach. Concomitantly, they produce no data or even a credible justification to support their subjective, impractical faith in captive animals as founders.

Contrary to Abell & Youldon’s implication we do not claim that ‘lion restoration programmes using captive origin lions are or will be failures’.We have little doubt that, if enough captive-origin lions were released, some may survive. However, Abell & Youldon do not provide a meaningful rationale to consider this a legitimate alternative.

It is spurious to claim that both captive-origin and wild-born approaches can ‘play a part’ when the former has wasted millions of dollars and years of effort, elevated the risk to lions and people, and has not established a single, free-ranging lion. We do not dispute that the approach may eventually do so but given the considerable drawbacks, and the evidence-based advantages of using wild lions, it is illogical and unscientific to pursue it. Our argument, simply put, remains that for every objective criterion by which reintroductions are planned and evaluated, wild lions are better candidates for increasing the likelihood of success.

We agree with the statement that ‘measures need to be taken to ensure the causes of the original decline or loss do not reoccur’. As we noted, identifying and preparing the release site, including mitigating the causes of decline, is an essential first step for reintroducing any large carnivore.

This applies whether the founders are wild-caught or captive-origin. Abell & Youldon’s attempt to discredit wild lion translocations by citing two cases where founders died of anthropogenic causes is a diversion. Do they believe captives would somehow be better equipped to avoid the same threats? In fact, carnivores reintroduced from captivity are more likely than wild founders to die of both anthropogenic and natural causes, or are frequently recaptured to avoid death (Jule et al, 2008). Similarly, we are surprised at their suggestion that nothing can be learned about translocations from the extensive literature and experience covering species other than ‘large, social felids’ (i.e. lions). This claim indicates a dismissal of science and lessons learned from the field in the attempt to justify an impractical approach.

Abell & Youldon’s lengthy discussion on disease and inbreeding issues shows little understanding of in situ experience. Again, they ignore a wealth of results accumulated from 2 decades of wild-wild translocation practice that has not produced disease transmission, mortality, epidemics or any other evidence of the risks they avow. Similarly, they apparently misunderstand our recommendations for managing disease and inbreeding risk when planning translocations, protocols that have successfully fostered population re-establishment (Slotow & Hunter 2009). Finally, they offer nothing to demonstrate that using captive founders, especially those of mongrel, opportunistic provenance promoted by private owners such as ALERT, is a preferable alternative (see Greenwood et al., 2012, for further evidence of the risks of exotic disease for captive carnivores).

Abell & Youldon conclude that ‘rigorous assessment and application of a range of effective conservation strategies’ will help save the African lion. We agree but regrettably they have produced nothing to show that their approach qualifies as effective. Simply bundling it with demonstrably practical solutions such as wild-wild translocations does not lend it credence. As with any approach we would expect to see a credible science-based rationale and peer-reviewed results that address the significant disadvantages we catalogued. Abell & Youldon’s response does not bring us any closer to those criteria. Opportunities for lion reintroductions are limited and make a minor contribution to the species’ conservation needs (Hunter et al., 2007). The quasi-conservation rationale of the encounter industry misleads the public and policy makers into believing that reintroduction is a panacea to the extremely complex challenges of conserving wild lions. Although paying tourists may enjoy cuddling lion cubs this approach does nothing to address the real issues driving the lion’s decline, and diverts valuable human and financial resources that should be devoted to ecosystem-wide protection where wild lions still persist.

In many ways, domestic animals are unfortunate creatures. Almost everything they do is for the benefit of another life form.

They exist primarily so that we humans can eat them, but they also carry us, clothe us, fetch balls for us, purr for us – they even win races for us. And have you noticed that many of them have such peculiar physical features? Just look at Chinese crested dogs, featherless chickens, pot-bellied pigs and even ordinary bulldogs. Of course, they look and behave as they do because that’s how they have been bred.

It began when the survival of humans was inextricably tied to the natural world and now, centuries later, the continuous process of crossbreeding and in-breeding for human-selected traits has reduced many domestic species to caricatures. There are whole industries out there that are dedicated to wheedling all the elements of wildness out of them, with the result that we now control every aspect of their biology and being. Our complete domination over animals we regard as pets fosters the sentimental love we have for them.

Our relationship with wild animals is entirely different. For many people it’s even more significant than that with pets, based as it is on an appreciation for their natural attributes and innate behaviour. And that’s also why wild animals have become integrated into our culture, our mythology, our psyche and our poetry in a way that their domesticated counterparts could never be. Wild animals display an authenticity that neither we nor our domestic cohorts possess.

They can run, soar or swim away at any moment. They are free, untamed, and for that reason we admire and love them with sheer wonderment. And yes, some of them also look rather peculiar, but their forms are distinctive rather than silly and serve to confirm that natural selection rather than human tinkering shapes their wildness.

But then there are people who love wild animals so much that they ‘feel the need to kill them’. I kid you not; some within the hunting fraternity explain that this is why they shoot an animal for the prize of a mounted trophy. There are even those who claim to get a ‘special feeling’ when pulling the trigger.

Trying to understand what lies behind these sentiments is for another discussion. The fact that this fraternity exists has led to southern Africa having a burgeoning industry that has begun the domestication process of many wild species. There is a growing band of farmers and businesspeople across the region who believe it is acceptable to manipulate the breeding of lions, wildebeest, sable, springbok, blesbok and rhinos, among other species – and there are authorities that allow this to take place.

Practices such as this raise a host of issues, but three substantive ones stand out. Firstly, there is no longer any justifiable reason to domesticate wild species; people continue to do so only because others are willing to pay substantial sums of money to hunt and kill the animals.

Secondly, controlling the breeding of wild species goes against biodiversity conservation principles as embraced by the Convention of Biological Diversity (www.cbd.int) – and every country in the region is a signatory to this convention.

On this basis alone, it is inexcusable that genetic manipulation is allowed.

Thirdly – and this is the greatest farce of all – the hunting industry that practises inbreeding and cross-breeding is the very same one that has staked its reputation on selling Africa as ‘the dark continent’, where dangerous and wild animals roam. It’s a sick charade, in which breeders and hunters undermine the very essence of what they claim is integral to their business. Do these people – politicians and administrators included – feel no shame for the fraud and deceit they are involved in?

And, the despicable dishonesty aside, is no thought given to the long-term implications? It is not inconceivable that after a few generations of manipulated breeding (in lions it could take as little as a decade), animals will start to show first behavioural changes and then distinct morphological transformations.

A few months ago, the south African press carried reports about a dispute between two ‘wildlife parks’ over the ownership of white tigers, one of which is going blind. It’s an ongoing saga, and although at first glance it seems to be nothing more than an absurd catfight, more careful reflection reveals it to be an epitome of a far more sorrowful tale: South Africa’s wildlife industry is sinking deeper and deeper into a state of degeneracy. The perception of wild animals as commodities is on the increase – and its growth comes at the expense of conservation, scientific and welfare considerations.

There are a number of aspects to the spat that emphasise this. Firstly, tigers – white or otherwise – do not occur naturally anywhere near Africa. Secondly, the two parties have no claims to be involved in the conservation of tigers or any other predator. And thirdly, it concerns animals of a rare morph that are unlikely to survive in the wild; indeed, the blindness is apparently a genetic disorder caused by repeated inbreeding. Inevitably, there are also links to the trophy hunting industry and breeding and petting facilities, as well as wildlife traders.

A summary of the evidence points to the two parks being engaged in some of the objectionable wildlife practices for which South Africa is becoming renowned. And instead of curbing them, the authorities seem either unable or unwilling to act.

How and why has this country become a haven for such practices and the criminal syndicates that feed off them? In my experience, the majority of the participants are representative of the old South Africa, and most grew up with a lifestyle that promoted the killing of wild animals as a leisure activity.

But while this serves as an explanation up to a certain point, developments over the past two decades indicate that something far more alarming and deep-rooted has taken hold. To understand what drives this thinking, we have to delve back into the apartheid era. In every way imaginable, apartheid was a violent system that sought to dominate and control all facets of life. It institutionalised prejudice, and there was no regard for human rights.

This archaic political and social thinking was in turn supported by an ultra-conservative religious belief system that still has followers today. According to the congregants, the scriptures separate mankind from his universe and in doing so legitimise any and every use of wildlife, for man is the master of all creatures.

The apartheid mindset reinforced this viewpoint and, if you were an adherent, the idea of superiority and the use of brutality to enforce it became pervasive. What’s more, the notion of animal rights had no place in such a tyrannical state. It was during this dark period of our history that the template was formed.

But such attitudes are not the only component. Colonialism and apartheid were also responsible for excluding South Africa’s nonwhite population from gaining access to and enjoying the country’s national parks and game reserves. The impact of more than 100 years of forced detachment from the wilderness was seen in the first years after independence in 1994, when the wildlife and conservation portfolios were relegated to the lowest rung of significance. The result was a vacuum in management, regulation and policing, which allowed opportunists within a burgeoning private-sector wildlife industry to flourish as they wished. When the government did become more actively involved, it embraced a wideranging transformation process that saw countless conservation officials from the old regime lose their jobs. Many were skilled and experienced, and quickly found situations in the private sector. Still bearing a sense of entitlement but now also disaffected and armed with inside knowledge of how the state and provincial systems worked, they set about exploiting the circumstances, at times with more than a hint of revenge.

I have spent a fair amount of time in this sector and whether dealing with operators or regulators, there is little evidence of what naturalist and writer Ian McCallum calls ‘ecological intelligence’. There is no moral or ethical view towards wild animals, and the notion of biodiversity conservation or a greater-webof-life thought process hardly registers. More recently, maladministration, inefficiency and a lack of funding on the regulatory side have exacerbated the situation. Given this, what do today’s practices tell us about the future of wildlife in this country?

While there are some exemplary private initiatives and the national parks still function in a state of good health, the possible collapse of the provincial reserve systems and the manner in which wildlife is being domesticated on private farms does not bode well. These stories also need to be told.

News accounts about environmental concerns in Africa continue to hit the headlines and most, unfortunately, are negative in tone.

Given the general state of affairs across the continent over the past few decades, this could hardly be otherwise. The conservation and environmental record of most African states is poor, and in some instances even shocking.

Nevertheless, there are two crucial facts we should not lose sight of. Firstly, Africa still has substantial tracts of wilderness and most of them continue to carry a wide diversity of species and an impressive large mammal biomass. This is more than can be said for the Americas, Europe and Asia, and is the primary reason why so many people come to Africa for exceptional wildlife experiences.

So yes, we are battling to conserve, but we are relatively well off in terms of what we have left.

Secondly, some countries can boast remarkable achievements and there are positive stories emanating from them. Botswana is the prime example; it is no coincidence that one of Africa’s best news stories is the continued health and vitality of the greater Okavango Delta system.

Since gaining independence in 1966 the country has been better than most at managing and developing its wildlife resources.

There have, of course, been bad decisions and periods of poor management – notably the construction of veterinary fences in the 1980s and ’90s – but in general Botswana can be proud of its conservation record. It’s one that has been built on each successive government’s awareness of the country’s environmental assets and its understanding that a well-managed ecotourism industry is vital to the economy. As a result, low-volume tourism remains a core tenet in the strategies that dictate the management of the wildlife concessions in the northern regions.

Although visitors may end up paying more for their experience, the clamour and degradation seen in so many high-volume destinations across Africa is avoided.

Botswana has also taken the lead in promoting non-consumptive, photography-based ecotourism models rather than trophy hunting.

The example was set in the mid-1990s, when the Kayes family and other new concession holders chose to forgo their hunting quotas – and the income that came with them. These visionary pioneers have since proved beyond doubt that photographic safaris are more beneficial in the long term.

The government deserves recognition for having pushed ahead with policy changes that favour this non-consumptive form of tourism, despite the considerable pressure exerted by outside political and economic interests to keep hunting concessions open for the wealthy and influential.

Less conspicuous are a number of initiatives that will make a substantial contribution to the conservation cause in the long term. Community projects were a shambles until recently, but meaningful efforts to put them on a firmer footing are evident in the government’s introduction of educational programmes and proper trusts, and its promotion of sound joint-venture partnerships.

And a partnership between government policing agencies and ecotourism companies is challenging the growing scourge of poaching along the western edge of the Okavango Delta. Several schemes have also been set up to improve ecotourism standards and diversify the product base, all of which amount to sound investment in the people and wildlife assets of the country.

There may be nothing particularly remarkable about these initiatives, but there are two significant factors that set Botswana apart: a consistency of attitude and a commitment to action that are seldom seen elsewhere on the continent.

Given Botswana’s overall record and the global standing of the Okavango Delta, it may come as a surprise that this wetland wilderness does not yet have World Heritage status. Inscription was mooted in 1989, but no progress was made beyond discussion.

This, it seems, is about to change. Over the past two years, the Wilderness Foundation has been driving a widespread consultation and education process involving all government and private-sector stakeholders.

Support has come from every quarter and the nomination procedure is in its final stages. Success will be a massive boost for the delta, as designation as a World Heritage site will substantially increase awareness of it. This in turn will enhance its conservation status and add an extra curtain of protection.

Trophy hunting associations in Africa and elsewhere have always claimed to be vehemently opposed to canned hunting – the practice of shooting captive-bred animals – yet you only have to analyse the latest CITES statistics on the import and export of lion trophies for South Africa and it becomes impossible to take their assertions seriously. From a total of 1 172 trophy hunting permits for lions issued in 2008–09, 707 were for captivebred animals. Moreover, 406 of these were allocated to US hunters, suggesting that the Americans are, by a long way, still the major supporters of canned hunting.

To understand the full picture, though, we need to go back to 1994, when records were first kept. Thirty-one hunting permits were issued that year; 12 years later the number had risen to 403, a staggering 1 300 per cent. Another two years on, in 2008, an additional 304 lions were hunted, representing a 75 per cent increase over the 2006 figure.

The trend clearly shows that the trophy hunting industry is ineffective at policing itself, and in the absence of legislation canned hunting will continue to flourish. In the first place, this is an industry that generates large amounts of money – and principles and ethics will not be allowed to get in the way of that. Secondly, any attempt to curb demand for this form of hunting, although sensible, is not likely to get off the ground. To do so would be to snub the dominant American market as well as Safari Club International, which is the primary marketing and sales house for trophy hunting worldwide – and that smacks of biting the hand that feeds you. Given this state of affairs, we can only hope that the South African courts will turn down the appeal lodged by predator breeders, who are trying to overturn the pending legislation that is aimed at curtailing their activities.

When it comes to wild lions, the picture is just as revealing. The statistics tell us that 465 permits were issued for 2008– 09 and again the Americans, with 351 trophies, topped the list. Crucially, these figures relate only to international trophy hunting; they do not reflect illegal killings or domestic off-take in African countries.

Nevertheless, they refute another claim made in hunting circles, namely that canned hunting relieves hunting pressure on wild populations. But this is not the case: statistics clearly show that wild lions, too, are being hunted in increasing numbers.

The 1994 number of permits issued for shooting wild lions – 128 – had risen to 284 by 2006, and 465 by 2008.

Remember that this killing is condoned – even sanctioned – on conservation grounds in order that wild lions may flourish. So what has happened to the general population over the same period?

According to the 2008 assessments in the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species, the news is not good. They maintain that for lions ‘a species population reduction of approximately 30 per cent is suspected over the past two decades’. More importantly, a number of population studies concur that lion populations in protected areas (where hunting does not occur) have been stable, whereas those outside protected areas (where hunting does take place) have decreased. The assessments also mention that ‘a group exercise led by WCS and the IUCN/SSC Cat Specialist Group estimated that 42 per cent of major lion populations are declining’.

Moreover, in a recent study by a number of predator specialists, one of the conclusions is that ‘sport hunting is an inherently risky strategy for controlling predators as carnivore populations’. The study’s findings also note that harvest data indicate that African countries with the highest levels of trophy hunting have seen the steepest population declines in lions over the past 25 years.

Again, the point is clear: the muchpunted benefits of trophy hunting that are supposed to allow wild lions to thrive simply aren’t working. And this undermines the validity of the hunting community’s favourite tagline: ‘if it pays, it stays’. I suggest that we adapt it to something more appropriate – like, ‘if it stays, it pays’.

Earlier this year, the Free State High Court in Bloemfontein, South Africa, handed down its long-awaited judgement in the case between the South African Predator Breeders’ Association (SAPBA) and the former Minister of Environmental Affairs and Tourism.

In essence, SAPBA, which effectively includes the canned hunting industry, challenged certain regulations in a raft of new legislation that seeks to curtail the breeding and shooting of lions in captivity (see page 24 of Africa Geographic, July 2006).

The court ruled in favour of the Minister, dismissing the application by the breeders on all counts, including costs.

Readers of this column and past features on trophy hunting in Africa Geographic will be familiar with the pertinent points. In making his ruling, the judge reaffirmed that the predator breeders make no contribution to the natural biodiversity of South Africa and that viewing the industry as ‘abhorrent and repulsive’ would be ‘objectively reasonable and justifiable’. I wholeheartedly agree with these sentiments and welcome the outcome of the case.

But while the judgement is important in the bigger picture, it should by no means be taken as the final chapter in this lamentable mess. The absurd irony of it all is that because the original legislation did not advocate an outright ban, which would have immediately outlawed both the breeding and the hunting of predators, the parties continue to argue in the courts over how and under what conditions thousands of lions are to be bred for killing.

And this as the species faces severe conservation threats in the wild, both in South Africa and across the continent.

In the meantime, the industry still needs to be held in check, and in this respect it is necessary to draw a clear distinction between the breeders and the hunters.

As far as the former are concerned, the new legislation is only a first step. Implementing and policing it, and ensuring that there is both the will and the means to prosecute, are going to be crucial. If breeding is allowed to continue, we will have to deal with the consequences of domesticating species that are integral to the definition of ‘wildness’, ‘wilderness’ and ‘natural ecosystems’. If the legislation is successful, we will have to face the highly contentious issue of what is to be done with thousands of caged lions and other predators.

Even more complex than the breeding issue is the one of hunting; not only are there millions more hunters around the world than there are breeders, but they attempt to draw distinctions between themselves on the basis of how they kill.

Most conservation agencies and ecotourism operators do the same: they oppose canned hunting, but many still support trophy hunting. How do these groups distinguish between the two and is there any merit to their distinctions? Why is shooting wild animals in a cage viewed as unacceptable, while killing off the gene pool in a wilderness area is lauded?

Aren’t all hunters merely members of the same extended fraternity? The so-called ‘fair chase’ hunting groups in South Africa certainly cannot claim to have been outspoken against canned hunting. And it is quite conceivable that a hunter who fails to bag his Big Five trophy in Botswana will end his safari with an easy captive-bred kill in South Africa.

It is inevitable that a total review of trophy hunting and its future application in conservation will be one of the next great wildlife management debates. With the outcome of this court case and the recent public debates about hunting in and around South Africa’s national parks and reserves, now is the time for this review to begin. A thorough reassessment would require a multi-disciplinary approach, involving much research and evaluation.

To this end, all major role-players from conservation agencies active in Africa – including the IUCN, government, NGOs and the greater safari and ecotourism community – would need to participate.

It is my suspicion that trophy hunting will in time be exposed as having been more of a conservation con than an effective wildlife management tool. In the meantime, I advocate that Rowland Ward’s Records of Big Game and the Safari Club International Record Book be discontinued. These trophy hunting bibles promote the shooting of what everyone else is trying to protect.

Within Botswana’s ecotourism industry, word is in the air that the trophy hunting sector is about to undergo a major review. No changes have been officially proclaimed yet, but indications that they are in the offing have come from the Botswana government in a number of telling statements made at public and private meetings. How far will the changes go? Talk varies from a total ban on trophy hunting, which at this stage is unlikely, to the industry being marginalised into buffer zones or private ranching facilities, and quotas being cut.

Protest as it might at possible changes, the industry will have only itself to blame if major changes are made. More than 40 years of hegemony have brought few benefits other than large profits to the operators. They, meanwhile, have shown a total disregard for self-regulation and policing their own, and have instead always rallied around the rotten. True, there are some ethical and sound professionals within the community, but they now stand condemned with the rest.

Whatever form the changes may take, the government should be applauded for pursuing more sustainable and beneficial land-use options within the country’s prime wilderness regions.

Across the border in South Africa, an incident recently occurred that, while seemingly insignificant, may be seen as a small marker in the broader trophy hunting debate. Earlier this year, one of the country’s largest corporate institutions cancelled an organised hunting trip for its clients because of complaints received from other clients and anti-hunting groups.

As reported in a local newspaper, the corporate had invited ‘a select group of five clients’ on a ‘client relationship-building trip’ to hunt animals. Not that long ago there would have been little or no opposition to such an excursion, and this same institution would most certainly have thumbed its nose at any outside interference in company activities.

While these events in South Africa and Botswana by no means signify the imminent demise of trophy hunting globally, they certainly point to a shift in attitude.

General awareness of the realities of trophy hunting is growing, and the hunting community can no longer assume that the age-old justifications for what it does remain cast in stone. The pro-hunting lobby, once so dominant and influential and at the same time so disparagingly dismissive of any contrary opinion, has lost its monopoly on the debate. It is going to have to realise that it is both logical and legitimate – a fair chase if you like – to challenge the conventional wisdom of the industry on various fronts.

Firstly, the consumptive utilisation model, especially the version practised on the ground, has major shortcomings. And the premise of financial gain does not necessarily justify economic activity: think whaling, slavery, drugs, pornography and the tobacco industry. Is there no other way to conserve and protect our wildlife than by allowing the gene pool to be auctioned off to the highest bidder? Is this the only language we know, the only solution we have?

Certainly, the principles of consumptive utilisation still sit firmly entrenched in the constitutions of most global conservation bodies and their guardian, the IUCN, but that does not absolve them from scrutiny.

Secondly, trophy hunting nowadays has little to do with fair chase. How can it, when the human participants enter the field armed with sophisticated highpowered weaponry, including telescopic sights, and with GPS and other satellitepositioning gadgets, often in robust 4×4 vehicles or using microlights or helicopters?

The trophy hunting of today, which includes canned and put-and-take hunting, bears little resemblance to the hunting of a hundred years ago. The colonial notion of trophy hunting as a brave profession and a noble sport is long gone.

And thirdly, there are the purely philosophical, sociological and ideological sides to the debate: the topics that the hunting fraternity is most ill at ease with. Given our substantially increased knowledge of genetics, biology and the inter-relatedness of species, these questions are extremely relevant and the answers we give ever more telling. Why should we not be entitled to ask the question: how appropriate is it that we kill large numbers of wild animals for fun?

Traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) has an ancient and multifaceted heritage that goes back thousands of years and is linked to Taoist and Buddhist philosophies.

Practices such as acupuncture, massage, dietary plans, and breathing and meditation regimes are integral to TCM, and it also comprises over 800 recognised herbal and other medicinal treatments. Based on the holistic notion that humans are intimately linked to their surroundings, these treatments are traditionally mixed from natural components − plant, mineral and animal products.

In many instances, the cures and remedies are made from animal body parts and require that the animal be killed. A number of the species used to make these medicines are now listed as threatened or endangered and, in the case of the most high-profile animals, they have become major international conservation issues.

Rhinos, tigers, sharks, musk deer, bears, buffaloes and seahorses are all well-known examples of animals that are killed for such purposes. It is in this context that TCM has acquired its somewhat tarnished reputation, particularly as the efficacy of many of its treatments is in doubt or has been disproved.

In fact, some of the medicines are based on nothing more than spurious assumptions of a link between a human ailment or dysfunction and a behavioural characteristic of the animal. One of the more obscure tonics is a ‘wine’ that has tiger bones as its crucial ingredient. Apart from its novelty value for Westerners, this product is of interest because it may be linked to two other factors at play in southern Africa at the moment: the substantial increase in the number of rhinos being killed and the meteoric rise in the price of lion bones.

Because the tiger is seen as an agile, strong and energetic animal, tiger-bone wine is advocated as a stimulant for those suffering from fatigue or bone-related ailments, such as arthritis and rheumatism.

It is made by soaking tiger bones in rice wine for lengthy periods. In some instances, whole carcasses may be left in the wine for years at a time. The belief is that by absorbing nutrients from the bones, the wine will pass on the animal’s strength and vitality to the drinker.

Since the trade in tiger body parts was banned in the early 1990s, the production and availability of tiger wine has fallen.

While a small amount of wine comes illegally from farms that are allowed to breed tigers for circus performances, this is insufficient to meet the demand, which appears to be increasing. Commercial producers in China are looking for other options.

Lobbying to have the trading ban on tiger body parts lifted is one way to increase production; another way involves a possible link with South Africa. Over the past two years, the price of lion bones has leapt from less than US$10 per kilogram to more than US$300 per kilogram. Word in the murky underworld where these markets exist is that prices will continue to increase and that large syndicates are placing orders for more than 30 lionesses to be shot in cages at one time.

Traditionally, lionesses are not sought after as trophies, so why are people paying to shoot such large numbers of them? At present prices, the bones of one lioness are worth more than the average asking price to shoot one − US$4 000. It is plausible that merchants for tiger-bone wine in the Far East may have found a substitute for tiger bones.

And, what about the link to rhinos? Since the South African government again legalised trophy hunting for white rhinos, the number of animals killed has risen substantially. In 2007, 157 hunting permits were issued for rhino, with the vast majority going to Chinese and Vietnamese nationals. Rhino poaching levels have also increased dramatically in the past 18 months. Since the beginning of 2008, at least 48 carcasses have been found.

We also know that Far Eastern nationals are heavily involved in syndicate poaching.

If you are a syndicate trader in South Africa on business to buy up rhino horn, why not have a look around for other profitable commodities? Anyone for some lion bones?

I believe the authorities must investigate the possibility of a criminal element in the links between rhino trophy hunting in South Africa, the increase in rhino poaching, the rapid rise in the price of lion bones and the number of Far East-based animal-trading syndicates operating in southern Africa.

At long last South Africa has an updated set of regulations in place that should begin to shape a clampdown on canned hunting and the captive breeding of large predators.

Effective from 1 June 2007, the regulations came after three years of consultation between the government and various private-sector wildlife management bodies and animal welfare groups.

The process culminated in February this year with the publication of the National Environmental Management: Biodiversity Act, 2004 (Act 10 of 2004): Threatened or Protected Species Regulations (www.environment.gov.za).

The Minister of Environmental Affairs and Tourism, Marthinus van Schalkwyk, and all involved, including the panel of experts appointed by him to provide the crucial recommendations, must be congratulated for this work. But it is shameful that it came more than a decade after the airing of the Cooke Report, which was the nation’s introduction to the horrors being carried out by a sector of the hunting industry.

The responsibility for the time lag between exposure and action lies with previous Department of Environmental Affairs and Tourism administrations, various constituencies within the wildlife management community and the hunting industry (including international bodies), and is indicative of their strong resistance. Their efforts to protect their interests continue and we should not fool ourselves that we have managed to rid the country of anything as yet. Minister van Schalkwyk’s work is only the first small step in what will be a long process, requiring much vigilance.

I would have liked the government to publish a blueprint for the implementation of these regulations, but now that they are in place, what comes next?

Firstly, it is highly likely that those affected, particularly the breeders, will instigate some sort of legal challenge.

It is ironic that after seven years of unsuccessful attempts to get an industry representative to comment on their practices and give information on member numbers (there were always denials at every turn about the existence of any representative grouping at any level), suddenly there is a very well-organised body, known as the South African Predator Breeders Association.

Now the predator breeders’ fears of scorn and detection have been replaced by panicky cries trumpeting their cause, a case based predominantly on the alleged contributions the industry makes to the economy. I wonder whether the Receiver of Revenue has shown any interest in this sudden desire for recognition and transparency, and whether its attention will extend to the past tax contributions of the association’s new-found membership.

I cannot comment on the merits or otherwise of any legal case that may arise, but I hope that the constitution does not defend the right to make a living without regard for the circumstances.

Secondly, and assuming the minister’s regulations remain law, it is highly likely that wildlife agencies will have to deal with the plight of thousands of unwanted predators (possibly as many as 3 000 or more). I have no doubt that some operators are shooting lions for whatever price they can get, while breeders are probably trying to flog their prime breeding stock or will simply stop feeding their animals, and photographic game farms will get hold of as many white lions as they can. This will still leave the majority of the caged animals to be dealt with. Government has made little or no provision for this eventuality, so the principal responsibility will have to lie with the private sector – conservation agencies, vets, animal welfare groups, donors and private landowners.

Solutions range from euthanasia to animals being placed in the care of donor-funded sanctuaries.

And lastly, if regional cross-border cooperation to eradicate these practices is not on the agenda, then our neighbours will step in to fill the cages emptied in South Africa. Captive breeding and canned hunting are already taking place in Namibia, Zimbabwe and Botswana, and it is highly likely that they will start in Zambia and Mozambique in the near future.

It is also worth asking the minister to consider at what stage and by what definition his department considers lion hunting in South Africa to be unsustainable.

In my book, and using the principles and definitions so fondly quoted by the hunting fraternity to support their fun, lion hunting is already unsustainable and should be banned outright. But then I don’t have any vested financial interests.

In an insightful analysis of the dynamics of trophy hunting, Ian McCallum in Ecological Intelligence: Rediscovering Ourselves in Nature, has this to say: ‘It is difficult to argue against the proposition that trophy hunting is more about reinforcing dominance than creating joy, more about approval than creativity, more about aggression than assertion. To me, there is no poetry in trophy hunting. The “special feeling”, because of the absence of play, is one of power, which means that these hunters can never be satisfied – they can never get enough of it. It becomes a habit, and an addictive one at that.’

McCallum’s book comes at a juncture when the trophy hunting industry finds itself under ever-increasing scrutiny, and it adds to the questions being asked about the motivations of these hunters and of the role hunting plays in a society far-removed from one in which the ‘great white hunter’ was sanctioned. It also coincides with developments within hunt-ing and wildlife management forums in both South Africa and East Africa.

In the light of these developments, it’s worth looking again at what lies at the core of the hunting debate. While there are some who seek an outright ban on hunting, neither this magazine nor I have ever called for that. We have simply reported on the abuses and contradictions that take place within the industry, and have facilitated debate on the premise and principles under which it justifies its activities. (It’s worth noting that the industry comprises two parties – the operator or breeder and the hunter or client – each with his own interests and agenda.) In this regard there are two broad categories to consider: the conservation and protection of biodiversity, and the more emotional concerns relating to ethics and philosophy. In many instances they cannot be separated, particularly when control and regulation break down and abuse sets in.

Under the broadly defined banner of sustainable utilisation and the ‘wise use’ principle, hunting is still regarded by many as an acceptable component of South Africa’s wildlife resource management. The uneasy consensus ends here, however, as these terms have been interpreted and applied in very different ways. The result is that while some operators and wild animal breeders conduct their businesses with respect towards wild creatures, others show precious little concern for the animals in their care. And the targets of McCallum’s opening statement, those who are addicted to collecting trophies, are a massive pool of hunters, mostly wealthy people from outside Africa, who pay large sums of money to bag whatever is next on their wish list. In short, the debate concerns an industry that is seemingly less and less about hunting as a form of wildlife management, and more and more about the production and pursuit of trophies at any cost.

This world has long since changed from the one in which trophy or sport hunting was born. Yes, hunting has been around since Man was able to wield a club, but then it helped us to acquire the food and clothing that was key to our evolutionary development. As we moved to a more sedentary life, we started to trade, which stretched the rewards of the hunt beyond filling our need for protein and protection. Skins, tusks, teeth, horns and shells became goods for barter, then a measure of wealth and status. The leap from pot to trophy accelerated with the process of European-dominated colonialism where shooting large numbers of wild animals was accepted as an occupational requirement. In the slaughter that took place, some hunters collected specimens for museums and private natural history collections, but many pursued hunting as a quixotic diversion. This, in essence, spawned what is today a multi-million dollar industry that targets everything from doves to elephants.

And, no matter how you view what took place then, very little remains of that era today. The landscapes no longer teem with wild animals, our relationship with the natural world has fundamentally changed and so too has the romanticised nature of the hunt. It is no longer the animals that are ‘dangerous’, but the hunter, the notion of ‘fair chase’ is fast becoming obsolete and, in the not-too-distant future, so will that of a truly wild animal. And, in a telling twist of fate (the implications of which seem to have bypassed the hunting fraternity), many of the species that remain at the top of the trophy hunter’s wish lists also happen to be potent symbols of conservation and the fight to secure the planet’s biodiversity.

For many people, these misgivings are also based on a high level of mistrust towards the industry, brought about by documented abuses and over-exploitation, and are fed by a perception that the industry is seemingly unwilling or unable to control itself. A lack of transparency in certain organisations and countries (Tanzania, for example), does nothing to alleviate the sentiment.

It is this mistrust that undermines the acceptance of programmes under-taken by hunting bodies in the name of conservation. Initiatives that support certain causes – contributing towards the costs of tracking down the giant sable antelope, breeding game birds and setting aside land – are treated with suspicion because the perception is that hunters want these species to remain or be placed on the trophy list, and are simply engineering more wilderness in which to hunt. While to some the distinction between conserving for biodiversity and conserving for trophies may be subtle, in the field the ramifications of this distinction are grossly apparent.

The sector in which they are most evident is South Africa’s canned hunting industry. Regular readers of Africa Geographic will be familiar with its horrors as the magazine has given it extensive coverage. Its future is presently in the hands of a panel, appointed by South Africa’s Minister for Environmental Affairs and Tourism, Marthinus van Schalkwyk. It has been tasked with advising him on the formulation of legislation that will control what the minister described as ‘this despicable practice’. This comes after the minister rejected the original draft on the Regulations for the Sustainable Utilisation of Large Predators because it ‘did not go far enough to remove this cancer from our society’.

As these issues are still being debated, the arguments against the industry are worth repeating. While the act of a canned hunt is abhor-rent, even more disturbing are the indefensible breeding and management practices carried out by many of those who supply the animals. These include the cross-breeding of species (lions with tigers) and sub-species (blesbok with bontebok), repetitive in-breeding for sought-after genetic strains (white lion) and forced breeding against natural biological cycles (removing week-old cubs from lionesses to induce another cycle).

Animals are drugged and moved across veterinary boundaries, species are introduced into areas far removed from their natural environments and are even stolen from national parks for their breeding potential. They (particularly predators) are often kept in cages and confined enclosures.

The industry web extends beyond the fences and includes numerous facilitators – the annual auctions, certain vets and relocation companies, and the authorities who issue permits. In summary, these practices have absolutely no bearing on conservation and the protection of biodiversity, and to most people they are immoral and unethical. What is taking place is human over natural selection and has everything to do with exploiting wild animals for financial gain. And it happens because there is a vast market of hunters prepared to pay substantially to obtain animal trophies. I believe that these practices are starting to domesticate wild animals and, at the very least, they contradict all the usual justifications for hunting.

So why are we entertaining a process that seeks to regulate and monitor behaviour as objectionable as this? Surely an outright ban would be more appropriate? Well, there are two likely reasons. Firstly, the industry has been allowed to flourish and form a lobby based on economic factors, especially job creation. Secondly, I believe these practices are tacitly supported by groups within the hunting industry and people in positions of power. The shameful reality is that if people had acted with conviction when they should have, this situation could have been avoided.

Despite statements voicing their disapproval after the Cooke Report first exposed the horrors of canned hunting in 1997, government authorities and pro-fessional hunting bodies have turned a blind eye. This inactivity has allowed canned hunting to establish itself, and today the South African wildlife management community has a monster on its hands that may prove impossible to curb.

But an even worse scenario may lie ahead if any form of acceptance and legalisation through policy imple-mentation is allowed. The canned hunting industry could be the thin edge of a much larger commercialisation wedge. Between outright canned hunting operations and true conservation projects lies much blurred ground.

Landowners who breed wildlife on lands once tilled or stocked with do-mestic species did not always change through conservation convictions, but rather for financial gain. In these instances, the selective breeding of lucrative trophy animals on heavily fenced farms will no doubt benefit the population statistics of those particular species, but will do little to protect biodiversity. Although the conservation flag is flown to ensure public acceptance, some of these farms only breed trophy animals to be shot or sold on auction. Who knows what may transpire when what is now known as the canned hunting industry becomes accepted practice through legislation? One can only hope that the panel takes the nature of commodity markets into their considerations. It is also not far-fetched to speculate that canned hunting will soon make its way to Botswana, Namibia and further north.

Much further north, in Kenya, trophy hunting has been under a moratorium since 1977, imposed by then president Jomo Kenyatta because of widespread abuse and corruption. Most within the industry supported the move at the time, but felt it should have been lifted after a full investigation and a tightening of the laws and controls.

This lobby may finally be successful. In December 2004, a bill was intro-duced into the Kenyan parliament that, among other things, proposed the re-introduction of trophy hunting. Although rejected by President Mwai Kibaki, the bill has been returned to the various role players for further review, a process that continues and has brought new energy to the debate in Kenya.

The arguments for and against a re-introduction are not dissimilar to those in South Africa, but there is one major distinction – at present, wildlife in Kenya cannot be privately owned. There is no doubt that this will become an issue – for the pro-hunting lobby, the financial value lies in being able to claim ownership. For those against trophy hunting, ownership suggests a South African-type scenario, while for the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS), the body that manages the country’s wildlife resources, it is about ensuring that it is not disenfranchised.

At the moment, opinion among Kenyan stakeholders seems to be evenly split. Pointing to statistics that indicate that Kenya has lost over 50 per cent of its large mammal populations in the past 25 years, those in favour of a re-introduction stress the role hunting would play in increasing the value of wildlife. They believe it is foremost an economic issue, and that economics, with hunting as a major financial contributor, will provide the incentive to protect wild animals. Among these voices, though, are those who are concerned about con-trolling abuses. In its present state, KWS is not seen as a viable protector and there are fears that the industry is not capable of self-regulation.

Those against trophy hunting also fret about the decline in wildlife populations and believe economics to be the major issue, but for very different reasons. For them, gross mismanagement and government corruption over the past two decades have produced inordinately high levels of poverty, which in turn has placed unsustainable human pressures on the wilderness in general.

Pointing to the high poaching levels that drive a thriving bush meat trade and the rate of deforestation, they contend that the government urgently needs to address the socio-economic slide and that protection agencies simply need to do their jobs. For them, the re-introduction of hunting would exacerbate the wildlife decline as any form of legal recognition would blur the poaching–hunting divide.

They also believe that because Kenya no longer has the luxury of large wilder-ness areas, any land that is parcelled into hunting blocs is likely to be over-exploited. Additional concerns include the inevitable increase in fencing if private ownership becomes a reality and, again, abuse and regulation.

Whatever happens in South Africa and Kenya, it is unlikely to alter the momen-tum of growing opposition to trophy hunting. If hunting is to survive on the grounds so passionately put forward by some – that it is primarily a management option and a component of conservation and biodiversity protection – I believe it will have to adapt fundamentally. Again, McCallum has put it most succinctly. ‘The argument is not about human rights, but about the nurturing of an ecological intelligence. It is about trying to show the non-sense of killing for that “special feeling”…’

It is difficult not to draw the con-clusion that the root cause of what is rotten in hunting is the trophy – the lengths to which the hunter will go in order to obtain it and the operator to supply it. On these grounds, I believe a major start can be made by doing away with both the Safari Club International Record Book of Trophy Animals and Rowland Ward’s Records of Big Game. It is interesting that Point Six in the Rowland Ward Code of Conduct for The Guild of Field Sportsmen states: ‘that all forms of competition in the field between Sportsmen whilst hunting and fishing be avoided’. What then is the purpose of these record books?

Regarded as the bibles of hunting, hunters would be hard-pressed to argue that they don’t serve to foster competition by rewarding those who shoot the biggest and the best in the gene pool. One need only page through the advertising section of any hunting magazine to understand the role these books play. Few, if any, are selling hunts on the grounds that they offer trophies of old and infirm animals, whereas many promote themselves on the basis of how many records they hold.

In short, pursuit of these records encourages the abuses carried out by operators, breeders and hunters and, ultimately, alters the gene pool. If hunters hunt for the reasons they say they do, then there is no need to brag and they should not be targeting the prime breeding animals.

If the removal of these record books is not sufficient to curb the abuse, then the next step would be an outright ban on all trophies leaving the shores of Africa. What to do with them? They are part of Africa’s heritage after all, so perhaps they should remain here as non tax-deductible donations to the thousands of schools, colleges, universities and museums across the continent that cannot afford such educational exhibits.

In the ‘Viewpoint’ column in this magazine in March 2003, Ed Reardon, a member of the Delaware Valley Chapter of Safari Club International, USA, wrote: ‘If, in the future, we hunters lose the right to hunt, it will most likely be through our own actions.’ In the same way that the hunting community draws distinctions between canned hunters and ‘fair chase’ hunters, maybe the time has come to draw a more forthright distinction – those who hunt for the trophy and those who don’t. As McCallum says, ‘The hunting of wild animals is learned behaviour … as the context changes, what we have learned can not only become inappropriate, but maladaptive.’ Hunters need to change the way they think.