The cases of illegal lion hunting in Zimbabwe and a recent United Nations resolution about wildlife poaching have captured the public’s attention in recent months. Yes, poaching of all forms of wildlife – from trophy species to marine life and butterflies – has reached epidemic proportions and the London Conference on Illegal Wildlife Trade last year identified a strong link between poaching and organized crime. But sometimes, it’s more about personal expressions of power than profit. Nowhere is this fact more clearly demonstrated than in Russia. Unfortunately, what makes the Russian case particularly dismaying is that the guardians of the law are often also the poachers.
photo courtesy Kathleen Braden
In 2012, Sergey Donskoy, head of the Russian Ministry of Natural Resources, estimated the value of poached wildlife to the Russian economy at about half a billion US dollars. So-called “environmental crime” in the country contributes to the destruction of what was once one of the most extensive stretches of pristine nature on the globe. Species that were better protected during Soviet times are now on the brink of extinction, threatened due to loss of funding for nature reserves, the opening of borders and Asian demand for wildlife parts, illegal fish catch, uncontrolled harvest of timber, and an increasingly impoverished rural population.
Thanks in part to Vladimir Putin’s love of photo-ops that show him as an avid outdoorsman and wildlife conservationist, so-called glamour species like Siberian tigers get publicity, but abuse of ordinary game animals gets little notice outside of Russia.
To stop this destruction of biodiversity, the Russian government adopted tougher hunting laws in 2012, with the blessing of environmental groups such as the Worldwide Fund for Nature. Fines in some cases have risen tenfold, jail time increased, and the right of inspectors to check vehicles and documents, revoke licenses, and confiscate guns has been strengthened, at least on paper.
But the battle against illegal hunting in Russia has a serious handicap due to the country’s infamous “VIP Poachers.” Wealthy and influential members of Russia’s elite class are now so liable to engage in illegal hunting that the public has sarcastically adopted terms for the practice such as “chernoye safari” (black safari). What distinguishes these lawbreakers is the utter lack of shame: Quite the opposite of secretive crimes, their poaching activities are carried out in full public view. In fact, demonstration of impunity seems to be a major objective for Russia’s VIP poachers.
The list of those accused can be followed in Russian social media, hunting blogs, and the Russian press. It includes provincial governors, members of the DUMA (Russia’s legislative body) or their aides, local prosecutors, famous faces from the entertainment or sports industries, and CEOs or officers from big corporations.
Few of the cases result in convictions, thus underscoring for the rank-and-file hunter in Russia that he may now pay a much higher fine for shooting a moose out of season, but the power elite can shoot at will. The atmosphere of lawlessness is further underscored by inspectors who themselves might be poachers or subject to bribes. And when the inspectors attempt to enforce the laws against VIP hunters, they find themselves arrested for overstepping their authority or even threatened and attacked.
A case in point occurred in the Kosh-Agach region of the Altay Republic in central Siberia. A local wildlife inspector, Vladimir Yantiev, had encountered a group of VIPs who he alleged were hunting illegally from a Mi-8 helicopter in the region. One of the culprits he attempted to cite was Aleksei Saurin, head of the Russian federal management agency for hunting. Instead of hushing up the incident, Yantiev took the information and his photographic evidence to the local press, but no prosecution followed. When I interviewed Yantiev in 2005, I asked him why he was so motivated to speak out: Wasn’t he fearful of reprisal? He replied that he was outraged that local animals he had fought to protect were so easily slaughtered.
Four years after I met Yantiev, a similar incident occurred in the same region, but this time the helicopter crashed. Among those who perished in that 2009 crash were Aleksandr Kosopkin, a presidential envoy to the DUMA, and Viktor Kaimin, chairman of the Committee for the Protection of Fauna in the Altay Republic. The accident received national and international press: Photographs showed dead argali sheep, a protected species, whose remains had rolled out of the rubble at the crash scene. Hunting from a helicopter (unless it involves wolves) is illegal in Russia, but the none of the surviving VIP hunters who were charged with illegal hunting were ever convicted. The case dragged on for years but ultimately was dismissed due to the statute of limitations.
photo courtesy Kathleen Braden
What is the motivation for people of power and means to deliberately flout laws on hunting? The shooting of an iconic animal such as Cecil the Lion in Zimbabwe has raised a public debate over trophy hunting and who is responsible when a foreigner commits such an illegal act. But what about when the very people who should set the tone for society and help build respect for law, violate it, as is the case in Russia?
One clue to an answer may be the idea of impunity as an overt expression of power, often linked to a false sense of masculinity. The hunting expeditions often involve city men who have little experience otherwise as real outdoorsmen, but can afford snowmobiles, ATVs or helicopters, and hire local guides. They can buzz in and indiscriminately shoot animals with high-powered weapons. The comments by ordinary hunters on Russian blogs about these high profile public figures who openly violate hunting laws are anything but positive.
Sadly, Russia’s hunting culture has always included this exclusive realm for the wealthy or powerful – whether members of the tsar’s retinue or communist party officials. What has changed in post-Soviet times is the sheer volume of VIP poachers and Russian social media outlets that keep this widespread impunity in the public eye. Russian animal rights activists, scientists, and legitimate hunters complain, but the show-offs continue to show-off and ordinary citizens continue to shake their heads, reinforcing the notion that corruption in ordinary life is a curse that must merely be endured.
The current public interest in illegal sport hunting will be valuable if it extends beyond trophy animals in Africa and illuminates crimes in other places.
There is a Russian joke about a group of VIPs from Moscow who pressure and bribe a pilot to overload their light plane with carcasses of illegally shot brown bears. After the plane crashes and the men crawl out of the wreckage, one asks the pilot if he has figured out where they came down. “I estimate about a kilometer from where we crashed with last year’s bears,” answers the pilot.
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