WHEN CONSERVATION BURNS: THE LESSON MALAWI CANNOT AFFORD TO IGNORE

Buildings can be rebuilt. But when trust between conservationists, communities and government is destroyed, rebuilding it can take generations.

Seeing Kuti Wildlife Reserve reduced to this is deeply painful.

I was one of the early members of the Wildlife Producers and Hunters Association of Malawi (WPHAM), an organisation that played a key role in establishing Kuti. My own conservation journey later took me to Mpatamanga Wildlife Ranch on the Shire River, where for twenty years I worked to conserve a remarkable piece of wild Malawi.

So when I look at these photographs — burnt buildings, destroyed facilities and years of work reduced to ashes — I see more than physical destruction.

I see a warning about how vulnerable conservation becomes when cooperation between government, conservationists and surrounding communities breaks down.

According to a public account from Kuti, the destruction followed conflict involving those working to protect the reserve from tree cutting and poaching. The account states that more than 50 Malawian jobs have been lost and that an important tourism, education and conservation facility has been devastated. Thankfully, everyone was reportedly safely evacuated.

The full circumstances must be properly investigated. Responsibility for any criminal acts should be established through evidence and due process.

But whatever an investigation ultimately concludes, there is a much wider lesson here.

Conservation cannot succeed in isolation.

Conservation is ultimately about people

When people think about African conservation, they naturally picture elephants, antelope, forests, rivers and magnificent landscapes.

Decades of living and working in Africa taught me that conservation is just as much about people.

It is the scout walking through the bush. The villager reporting suspicious activity. The traditional leader supporting the protection of an area. The wildlife officer enforcing the law. The landholder choosing to keep habitat intact.

And critically, it is the communities living alongside those wild places.

In many countries, successful conservation models recognise that surrounding communities should not simply exist outside the boundary of a protected area. They should become stakeholders in its success.

Local people possess something that no fence, patrol vehicle or government office can replace: eyes and ears on the ground.

They know their landscape. They notice unfamiliar people. They know when trees are disappearing, when animals are being poached and when something unusual is happening.

But partnership has to work both ways.

If communities are expected to help protect wildlife and habitat, they must also be able to see tangible benefits from conservation.

A living forest must have value

Those benefits can take many forms: employment, tourism, education, training, local businesses, infrastructure and community projects.

The precise model will differ from place to place, but the principle remains the same:

People are far more likely to defend something when its survival contributes to their own future.

This is particularly important where poverty, agricultural expansion, charcoal production, illegal timber cutting and poaching place enormous pressure on natural resources.

These are not theoretical issues to me.

I encountered many of them during my twenty years at Mpatamanga.

Protecting land was never simply a matter of drawing a boundary on a map and declaring it conserved. It meant patrols, fire management, confronting illegal activity, maintaining relationships and continuing that work year after year.

Conservation from a distance can sound romantic.

On the ground, it is persistence.

There is also an uncomfortable economic reality that conservation must confront.

If cutting down a tree provides someone with an immediate income while leaving it standing provides nothing, conservation begins the argument at a disadvantage.

Our challenge is to ensure that a living forest, functioning ecosystem or successful wildlife area has tangible value to the people who live alongside it — economically, socially and culturally.

Kuti represented more than wildlife

That is why the reported destruction at Kuti matters far beyond the reserve itself.

Kuti provided employment. It attracted visitors. It offered environmental education and gave Malawian families and schoolchildren an opportunity to experience wildlife. It contributed to the local economy and demonstrated what cooperation between different conservation interests could achieve.

When something like this is damaged, confidence is damaged with it.

Potential investors notice.

Tourism operators notice.

Conservation organisations notice.

Landholders deciding whether keeping natural habitat is worthwhile notice.

And surrounding communities notice.

Malawi cannot afford for protecting its remaining wild places to become an increasingly difficult or unrewarding choice.

What twenty years at Mpatamanga taught me

My experience at Mpatamanga reinforced that lesson repeatedly.

There were successes, but there were also poachers, illegal tree cutting, fires, disputes and the uncertainty that comes with trying to protect land where natural resources are under constant pressure.

Those experiences eventually became the story told in my book Mpatamanga: My Twenty-Year Fight for Africa’s Wild Places.

One lesson stands above many others:

No individual can protect a landscape indefinitely.

Government has a role. Private conservation has a role. Traditional leadership has a role. Local communities have a role.

The strongest conservation model brings those interests together rather than allowing them to become adversaries.

For a country such as Malawi, where land and natural resources face considerable pressure, this cooperation is essential.

Government can provide legislation, enforcement and national conservation policy. Private conservation can bring investment, management, tourism and long-term stewardship. Communities bring local knowledge, participation and an indispensable human presence around conservation areas.

Each strengthens the others.

Kuti must not end in ashes

What happened at Kuti should be thoroughly investigated, and anyone found responsible for criminal acts should be dealt with according to law.

But then comes the more important question:

What happens next?

I hope the Department of National Parks and Wildlife, conservation organisations, private wildlife producers, traditional leaders and surrounding communities can come together to determine how Kuti can be restored.

Perhaps something constructive can eventually emerge from this tragedy.

It could become an opportunity to examine how conservation partnerships throughout Malawi can be strengthened and how communities surrounding protected areas can become even more closely connected to their success.

Conservation should not simply be something done to communities or around them.

It should increasingly be something achieved with them.

After twenty years of working to conserve my own piece of wild Malawi, I remain convinced of one fundamental principle:

Conservation is strongest when the people who share the landscape also share in the reasons for protecting it.

Kuti has suffered a terrible setback.

It should not be allowed to become a conservation obituary.

Instead, this should become the beginning of a stronger partnership between government, conservationists and the communities whose futures are tied to Malawi’s remaining wild places.

I hope Kuti rises again.

Ian Bartlett

The Real Crocodile Hunter®

Author of Memoirs of a Real Crocodile Hunter and Mpatamanga: My Twenty-Year Fight for Africa’s Wild Places

🌿 https://mpatamangawildliferanch.com

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