Problems in Community-Based Conservation
BY PETER BALINT
In the communal lands of Mahenye, in the southeast corner of Zimbabwe, traditional culture and hardscrabble subsistence mesh uneasily with trophy hunting, upscale tourism, and modern ideas of market-based conservation. This awkward mix is the result of a conscious plan to improve local living conditions, protect wildlife, and make money.
For much of the colonial period, the Shangaan people of southeastern Zimbabwe, traditionally hunters and subsistence farmers, were protected from outsiders by their inhospitable environment—dry lowveld plains plagued by tsetse flies. In the 1960s, however, following efforts to eradicate the fly, white farmers moved into the region. In a related move, the Rhodesian government expropriated Shangaan land to form a game reserve, later to become the Gonarezhou National Park. By this time, the central government had asserted state ownership of wildlife nationwide. Resettled on communal lands in Mahenye, across the Save River from their former territory in Gonarezhou, the Shangaan thus found themselves forbidden to hunt on either the old land or the new. Nor were they allowed to kill animals, particularly elephants, that moved into their territory around harvest time and destroyed their subsistence crops.
Not surprisingly, they turned to poaching, sparking a running conflict with park managers. After independence in 1980, the Shangaan were angered further when the new government reneged on a promise to return Gonarezhou to them. In 1982, with strife continuing, officials in the region asked a local rancher who had good relations with the Shangaan to attempt mediation. The rancher proposed an idea that was a decade ahead of its time. He suggested that if the government would give community members development rights to tourism opportunities on their lands, circumstances would improve both for the people and for the animals.
Both sides were suspicious, but they agreed to a trial. After several years of problems, the program began to show signs of significant success. By the mid 1990s, the community had reliable annual income both from trophy hunting and from two upscale game-viewing lodges; a licensed professional guide operated the hunting safaris and a national hotel firm built and ran the lodges. With the proceeds from these contracts, the community improved the road that served its villages, brought electricity to the main town center, installed a grinding mill for corn, and constructed two school buildings. Moreover, residents ceased poaching and set aside some communal land as reserves for animals that seasonally migrated in and out of the park. The community managed the projects through an elected council, and the regional government provided auditing and other administrative support. The perceived success of this project helped spawn a global movement toward community-based natural resource management in rural areas of the developing world.
Unfortunately, field research in the community this past summer revealed that the gains in Mahenye have not been sustained. The reactionary power of tradition, conflicts of interest, corruption, poor over-sight, and national political and economic turmoil have all contributed to the failure. Project income has drastically declined as tourism to troubled Zimbabwe has diminished. The elected council has been hijacked by the family of the traditional chief, and proceeds that continue to come in are now skimmed off by the ruling clan. Vehicles donated for community use have been co-opted for private purposes.
School buildings are unfinished or in disrepair. And the project’s ledgers have not been checked by an outside auditor since the council lost its independence from the traditional leaders.
Worse yet, community members are now alienated, disillusioned, angry, and scared. One man said that if you protest the chief’s actions, “The sun will not set on you.” Another said, “I don’t mind if they steal something. Anybody would do that. But don’t steal it all.” A woman, when asked about the project, replied with scorn and resignation, “It’s theirs, not ours.”
Outsiders who should be overseeing the project are blind to the problems. We were told repeatedly by officials at government agencies and nongovernmental organizations in Harare that the project is successful, and that the primary obstacle to further success is that full authority has not yet been devolved to the community (the regional government still retains control over contractual arrangements with the professional guide and the hotel firm). Community members in Mahenye, however, said that while the regional government is also corrupt and puts its own interests first, it is the only curb on the chief’s power. They argued strongly against further devolution.
The Mahenye experience raises many questions for the theory and practice of community-based conservation and development. What is “community”? How much authority should be devolved to communities, and who should decide? How should outside groups deal with a traditional, indigenous community in which the leadership may not speak for the group as a whole? And how can an independent, democratic, participatory governing process be helped to survive in a traditional, hierarchical, feudal society?
Peter Balint (pbalint@gmu.edu) is an assistant professor of environmental policy at George Mason University, with joint appointments in the Department of Public and International Affairs (http://pia.gmu.edu/) and the Department of Environmental Science and Policy (http://esp.mason.gmu.edu/).
