To burn or not to burn: that is only half the question

[This article is a response an article by Botswana's Minister of Wildlife and Environment, Tshekedi Khama, published in the Evening Standard, Monday 25 April 2016]

While I do think that Botswana's decision not to burn their ivory stockpiles is an excellent one, and while I do applaud their decision to boycott the ivory burning at the conclusion of the upcoming Giants Club summit, I would question the strategy behind erecting and displaying a statue built from this material and I would suggest that there might be a much more effective use for Botswana and other African nations' stockpiles.

On the one hand, I can appreciate the idea behind the statue – in the Honourable Minister's own words, “there is value in conserving elephants for eco-tourism and emphasising the value of a live elephant should be upheld at all costs.” It is true, I think, that the future of Botswana's elephants is dependent on not only the perception of value, but the actual value of these animals to Botswana's communities. This means that elephants must generate revenues for the communities in the way that they did while trophy hunters were still allowed to operate in Botswana, when communities generated large incomes each year by selling their trophy allocations. Eco-tourism, it is true, has a role to play, but does a statue made of ivory displayed in an airport actually contribute any real value or is it just, if you'll pardon the excruciating pun, a white elephant?

The truth of the matter, economically speaking, is that burning and stockpiling (or building statues) have the same economic effect: supply is restricted in relation to existing demand. There is, and likely always will be such a demand – there is no denying this fact. As a result, the price of the commodity is driven ever higher, the luxury status of ivory is maintained or even enhanced. This means that the price per kilogram increases, and impoverished people from adjacent countries (and increasingly from within Botswana itself) are further incentivised to risk their lives in order to obtain quantities of this valuable commodity at any cost.

Botswana has taken a tough stance on poaching, and much like the anti-poaching operations being conducted in South Africa in defense of rhino populations, there have been results in terms of arrests, confiscations, and also in terms of poachers killed. The Botswana Defence Force and the Department of Wildlife and National Parks have a well-deserved reputation as some of the worlds finest and most effective anti-poaching forces, and yet even this is not enough to deter the ever-increasing waves of young men willing to risk death for a few kilos of white gold. The sad truth of the matter is that as long as the existing supply/demand equation is maintained, there will always be fresh volunteers eager to take up the rifle and try their luck in the cat-and-mouse game that plays out every day in Southern Africa's National Parks and border regions.

But is there an alternative? I think there might be, because in economic terms a stockpile is an immensely powerful thing. A stockpile represents a potential economic force – a force that might be used to alter existing market dynamics if it is exerted in the correct way. One example of the manner in which such a stockpile might be used is supplied by arch-imperialist and mining magnate, Cecil John Rhodes. During his time at the helm of De Beers, he was often frustrated by the periodic collapse of the price of diamonds due to oversupply, which would have dire effects on his business. His solution to the problem of oversupply was to stockpile and carefully regulate the release of precious stones onto the European market, thereby avoiding gluts and maintaining a steady and predictable diamond price, year in and year out. A stockpile retained and regulated in this way can be used to maintain an artificially high commodity value, and this, I would argue, is the unintended consequence ivory of stockpiling and burning across the African continent.

Another potential use of such a stockpile involves precisely the opposite strategy. A stockpile might be suddenly released in order to flood the market deliberately, which has the effect of creating a crash in commodity value. Demand, for a time, is overwhelmed by supply, and the market collapses as a result.

What if Botswana unbanned the sale of ivory? What if government itself either released a massive amount of stockpiled ivory (an elephant-statue's worth, say) to crash the market in one fell swoop or, even better, set about regulating the market through a gradual controlled release of these stockpiles, thereby eliminating black-market/poaching/smuggling networks, bringing the market above-board, generating taxable revenue and creating value-added industries while disinsetivising poachers/poaching activity? Fewer animals would be shot illegally, particularly if this strategy was coupled with Botswana's already tough stance on illegal poaching activity.

In a country with as many elephant as Botswana, we could maintain a steady stream of sustainably harvested ivory – i.e. ivory obtained from naturally occurring elephant carcasses (predation, disease, old age), of which there are many, as well as from existing stockpiles. A well-regulated and well-managed market and supply could contribute massively to the conservation of these animals, and, crucially, could help to generate real revenues for communities. The war on black-market ivory is like the war on drugs: it is unwinnable for the simple reason that there is a significant demand and there is an (illegally obtainable) supply. As in countries where approaches have changed to regulation, education, decriminalization (and taxation) of narcotics, perhaps Botswana should consider a similar approach for ivory?

Have a picture 3: Pel's Fishing Owl, Shakawe

2016 has been a huge year for me already, and the above photo shows one of the reasons for this. This is none other than a Pel's Fishing Owl (Scotopelia peli) - a species that is listed as threatened in Botswana due to large-scale habitat loss caused by large herbivores in some of the areas where they used to be quite common. In Kasane, for example, we had breeding pairs as recently as two or three years ago. Unfortunately, this is no longer the case, and despite repeated attempts and insider information, I have failed again and again to see one of these birds in the wild. Over the Easter long-weekend, though, I was lucky enough to be invited out to Lloyd Wilmot's camp on the Okavango River in a place called Shakawe (Okavango Panhandle). Here there are still some places where the right kind of old-growth riverine forests exist, and here I was fortunate enough to encounter not just one, but three of these magnificent creatures – two of which were at their breeding sight. While I can't tell you exactly where I found them, I can tell you that if you're as desperate to see one as I was, Alistair Wilmot (www.wilmotsafaris.com) might be a good place to start.  

I'm really interested in birds - though I wouldn't quite call myself a twitcher. Birding is great for several reasons when you're out in the bush. First off it adds another level of interest that can help relieve the monotony of hours on the back of game-drive vehicle and the endless herds of elephant and impala that make up, for the most part, the average day's sightings up here. Secondly, if you're birding, you've got your eyes peeled and you're looking very carefully at every bush, every tree, every patch of open ground. You're looking for the tiniest movement and listening for the most imperceptible little sound. If you're birding, in other words, you're also much more likely not to miss out on other things that might be lurking inconspicuously just off the road. Birds are beautiful in their own right too, and interesting besides. Bird photography (particularly when they're in flight) is one of the most technically challenging varieties of the art to be found - you really have to know your gear and think very carefully about what you want to capture and how you want to capture it in order to be even remotely successful. So that's why I love it, and that's also why you'll see more of this kind of thing if you stick around. The top spot on my wish-list has just been freed up! Next one down - the Narina Trogon, that most illusive of birds!

Have a picture 2: Jari Temple, Himachal Pradesh

This shot was taken at a village called Jari, which is located just inside the beautiful Parvati Valley in Himichal Pradesh, North-eastern India. The building pictured here is the village temple, which houses the local deity - there are twelve of these from the major villages that are gathered at the annual Mela. Village temples like these are some of the most beautiful buildings to be found in villages in this region. In general, the traditional local architecture in incredibly beautiful, and the temples represent the most exquisite examples of the style. If you're lucky enough you might even see one being refitted - the timber portions of these structures are regularly replaced due to the extreme climate, which is hard on everything. I saw this once or twice and was astounded each time by the workmanship and the detail of the wood carvings around doors, on pillars, on joins in the masonry; every possible surface is crammed with the products of what I can only describe as an art of devotion. It is an incredible thing to behold. Jari is a great spot to recuperate from the hardships of real travel in this part of the world: jarring, nerve-wracking bus rides and stomach trouble, for example. It's also a great stepping-off point for trekking and exploring the rest of the valley - which I highly recommend. It is well connected with bus routes in and out of the valley, and is surrounded on all sides by lush green mountain slopes just begging to be explored. Accommodation is cheap!

Have a picture 1: Fort of São João, Ibo Island

This shot was taken in one of the creepiest places I've ever been to in my life: Ibo Island, located just off the Northern Mozambican town of Pemba in the Quirimbas archipelago. The structure I'm in/on is an ancient Portuguese fort (São João), built atop a far older Arab one, which was used by traders and slavers on the coast of East Africa for centuries. During the time of Portuguese colonial rule in Mozambique it was used to house, torture and kill political prisoners, an extreme Robben Island of sorts. No hard labour, no sunlight (glaring or otherwise), just damp, dark starving isolation punctuated with brutality and the occasional dragging out into the light of a fellow prisoner to be broken and killed, then dumped into the ocean or left on the exposed beach to rot. I love this shot because of the dollar sign some asshole smeared on the inside of the minaret-like watch-post. That and the rusting cannons propped up between the parapets, useless yet somehow still menacing. There is a violence to it, in other words, but it is a violence inextricably linked with commerce, possession and oversight. The idea that the same structure could serve many different purposes all related, finally, to the same old thing is a fascinating one I think. The town is renowned for its silver-work, and the silver used by the smiths comes mostly from old Portuguese coins found along the islands beaches and mangrove-lined waterways. There is fresh water on the island, brought up from the coral bones of the place by a series of wells. The water, though, is distinctly salty, and this, I think, is the reason behind the madness I often caught glimpses of lurking behind the gazes of many of the local inhabitants - the salt and the centuries of violence and death, perhaps. Djinns stalk the streets of the town at night - as they do much of this part of the East African coast. While I was there, one was caught by a local Imam and burnt in a jar on the soccer field. It was a one-armed, one-legged slapping-djinn, which would hop up behind lonely walkers of the night and strike them a blow to the side of their heads. A fairly harmless djinn, then, but so long as it was abroad, few dared venture out or walk home by themselves. Spooky place, as I've said.

The Death of Travel

Many years ago on a beach in India near a town called Gokarna, I witnessed a scuzzy, dread-locked Englishman launch into a tirade against an apparently innocent fellow-beach-goer for the heinous crime of Being a Tourist.

It sounded like this: "You facking tourist FACK! How dare you?!"

Now, while this might at first seem a little pots and kettles, there was a more to the exchange than that. You see, this other chap had actually made a serious error: he had dared to inquire as to the whereabouts of the facilities. This question so incensed his companion for a very simple reason: he had just revealed himself to be that most despicable of things to India's travelling riff-raff (worse even than a stingy front-desk manager or a salesman who refuses to haggle) - a tourist. Only a tourist would ask after the bogs on a remote beach in Karnataka. A traveler would never ask such a question. A traveler would simply relieve themselves in the most convenient and least obtrusive manner available - which in the case of a beach is pretty fucking obvious.

This same dread-locked individual later tried to convince me that the sound of a boat-engine under water was actually a dolphin attempting to communicate with me (while I was relieving myself, incidentally), so maybe we can take his view on the situation a little less seriously. The point, though, is that there is a terrible yawning gulf between real travel and clicky-snap production-line instagram-braggy tourism. The fact that most real travelers tend to be odoriferous Eurotrash need not detract from my next claim either, which is that travel is infinitely superior to mere tourism.

Unfortunately, in the eternal battle between tourism and travel, which is fought in never-ending cycles of trail-blazing, normalizing, commercializing, and fucking off somewhere else, tourism is winning. Travelers, real travelers, are losing out, and the places they've inadvertently helped open up to package tours, touts, pimps, drug dealers and all of the other horrible things that go along with them are one by one becoming all but overrun by that lowest form of humanity, the snooty camera-laden here-today-gone-tomorrow tourist.

This is bad.

This is bad for a number of reasons, the first of which is obvious and totally beside the point: travel as an experience is superior, and tourists, by being tourists and not travelers, are actually losing out. This does not, to be clear, trouble me overmuch. The real problem is that there are people and places which are traveler friendly, and, one-by-one, they're being overrun.

Take Botswana, for example. I live there right now. This is my idea of travel. I like to live and work in a place for a good long time, settle into its rhythms, really get intimate with the people, see the sights and hear the sounds properly. This is what uptight French intellectuals refer to as the longue durée - when they're talking about something completely different, that is. But the idea holds true nonetheless - it means something like long-view, and to me that's the only way to really get to know a place properly. If I get to see fewer places as a result, that's fine by me because I've seen what I've seen properly. So I live in Botswana, which has just been named Lonely Planet's Destination of 2016.

Botswana was kind of traveler-averse to begin with. It is expensive to be here and to do things here. Things like eat, for example. It is easy to get a visa, but back-packers are few and far between, and there is not much of a "scene"as a result. Long-stay travelers like myself have a really hard time because work-permits are really difficult to come by. The sad thing about this is that Botswana is a country that is really worth traveling in. For a start, it's huge, and there are so many things to see that a seven-day whistle-stop safari just doesn't cut it. Sadly, that seems to be the only thing going at the moment aside from the occasional lonely self-drive and the many wagon-trains coming out of the South.

This is also bad. Bad for the tourists. Bad for the businesses set up to offer a little more than a three-day all-inclusive package deal, and ultimately, I think, bad for the environment because all of these fuckers demand flushing toilets.

Full circle - the end.

No but seriously, please, despite what lonely planet says, and despite the fact that you want a Victoria Falls Selfie, a Delta selfie, an elephant selfie and a Namibian selfie despite only having a week to do it in, please don't whistle-stop Botswana. The truth is that at the end of it you won't really have been there. Thanks.