Posted on 11 February
2013 | by WWF photographer James Morgan
Having spent time with rangers and affected
communities in Gabon, my next trip was to
Thailand to try and understand the mechanics
and motivation behind the surge in demand
for animal products. The first thing that
hit me was the amount of wildlife smuggling
going on in Thailand. I saw a lot of ivory
in Africa but somehow, in the neon glow
of Bangkok, piles of African elephant tusks
looked more alien, more menacing.
I started off photographing
underneath Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi international
airport. Suvarnabhumi is a hub for the Asian
smuggling network, contraband in all guises
- wildlife, narcotic and human - pass through
daily in quantities and numbers that can’t
even be guessed at. The Thai police weren’t
able to show me the country’s stockpile
(I wonder how much of it is still there)
but the amount of ivory I saw just from
the last few weeks of confiscations was
staggering.
A few days later we
got word that the Thai authorities had stopped
a truck trying to cross the border from
Thailand into Laos. In the back of the truck
were 16 tiger cubs packed into crates. We
were later able to photograph them being
DNA tested as part of the government’s efforts
to track wildlife contraband to its source.
In the same week there was also a record
haul of ivory in Hong Kong.
So why are animal parts
so sought after in Asia? There are plenty
of socio-historic explanations that have
been put forward. Ivory, for example, has
been traded as an aspirational commodity
in China since the Ming dynasty. Now, of
course, there are far more Chinese people
with aspirations and a modern, capitalist
market ready to cater to them. In more recent
history, an unnamed politician in Vietnam
(believed to be the major end destination
for South African rhino) is said to have
had his cancer cured by imbibing ground
rhino horn, in turn kicking off the widespread
belief that rhino horn may be a miracle
cure for cancers and other serious illnesses.
The semi-mystical projection
of human desires and needs onto the natural
world is by no means exclusive to Asia.
Throughout the world there are plenty of
examples of natural ‘commodities’ being
used as health boosters with no scientific
backing, as well as pelts and furs being
used as a means to attain status. However,
these explanations go some way to explain
why the demand for endangered animal parts
is particularly prevalent in specfic Asian
countries.
As I understand it,
the environmental movement is currently
working on two ways of addressing the problem.
Firstly, using force and legislation to
reduce supply. This involves bringing tougher
penalties for smugglers and ensuring that
convictions aren’t overturned or thrown
out of court without a full trial. Secondly,
using a rational argument to reduce demand.
This involves debunking the myth of rhino
horn (and other animal parts’) medicinal
properties and raising awareness of the
catastrophic environmental impact of the
trade.
Both approaches are
important, but they’re also both problematic.
Laws around wildlife crime should, without
a doubt, be equal to laws around drug smuggling
and other serious offenses. The knock on
effects of wildlife crime, as I discovered
in Gabon, are complex and highly destructive,
both socially and environmentally. But would
tighter laws on wildlife crime make a difference?
Thailand has the death penalty for drug
smuggling but it remains the narcotics capital
of Asia.
The medical myth is
the most quoted cause of wildlife crime.
The fact that we’re on the verge of losing
an entire species to an insatiable demand
for its horn (which is composed mostly of
keratin, the same as human hair and fingernails)
has all the irony and narrative hooks of
a good tabloid story. And, in many ways,
although I feel the truth of the situation
has been slightly misrepresented, this story
in its various forms has been instrumental
in raising awareness around the issue in
Europe and America. However, I don’t think
it’s a story that will work in Vietnam or
Thailand.
The majority of people
I met whilst working on this issue had stories
of vague acquaintances narrowly escaping
fatal illnesses by resort to rare animal
parts. Individuals who have been diagnosed
with a life-threatening illness will never
believe in science as much as they believe
in hope. Humans just aren’t wired that way
and such stories will invariably beat science
in capturing people’s imaginations.
As I see it, the battle
to reduce consumption of animal parts must
combine increased legal pressure with a
change in perception through a line of reasoning
that is emotional and tailored to the world
of the consumer. Essentially, it will come
down to who tells the best story. The animal
kingdom, particularly the target species;
elephants, rhinos and tigers are incredibly
beautiful. Complex, majestic, enigmatic.
They speak to us of a natural ease and grace
that we have lost; they represent an exaggeration
of desirable human characteristics; speed,
strength, courage and wisdom. The idea that
I could ingest a part of them, absorb some
of their power and reverse the hand fate
has dealt me is an undeniably powerful story
and I’m not surprised it has gained traction.
Just like the western myth that rhino horn
is used as an aphrodisiac in Traditional
Chinese Medicine (it’s not). If stories
are good enough they’ll tell themselves.
There’s no question
that the role played by WWF, and other pressure
groups, will be instrumental in any solution
to end wildlife crime, but I think it’s
equally important that journalists and campaigners
don’t simply regurgitate press releases.
Statistics and CITES appendices are not
the right message for the consumers that
I’ve met. What we need instead is a story
as powerful as the story being told by those
who have a vested interest in continuing
the trade. Until we have that story, and
really learn how to tell it, dead elephants
will continue to bestow prestige in Thailand
and dead rhinos will continue to cure cancer
on the anonymous outer ring of Vietnam’s
social circles.
