Wildlife Beyond the Lens

Of Elephants, Facebook Experts, and Conservation Fatigue

It has been a while since I have had to put a disclaimer in the first paragraph but here we go… This is an opinion piece. Everyone has one. It’s not special. If you find yourself offended by anything written here, that’s a personal issue, not a public one. No specific individuals are being targeted, and all names, are fictional, or used in jest. The thoughts expressed here are my own and not a direct quote of anyone human being or a statement from any organisation, because I felt they needed saying—and because some people probably need to hear them. That’s it. Carry on.

I’m writing once again—tragically—from an office in Pretoria. Due to popular demand and the general misery that is winter, I’ve ended up spending an extra two weeks behind a desk. It is what it is. Sometimes life just slaps you with a clipboard and sends you back inside.

That said, on this ice-bucket of a morning (a crisp 2 degrees, to be precise), I’ll admit I’m not entirely sad to be not driving a game viewer through the cold while pretending to enjoy it.

The elephant carcass being fed on by lions – photo taken by Debbie Lee-Fendick.

This, dear reader, is another Pointless Writeup. Volume Two, if you’re keeping score. And while most of my ramblings have at least some connection to animals, safaris, or feel-good moments in the bush, this one… doesn’t. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s about a problem—a big, frustrating, relentless one—that applies not just to Pilanesberg, but to Kruger, Kgalagadi, and every other place like them.

This is, unapologetically, an opinion piece. And it’s aimed at a specific breed of reader. You know who you are. (And if you’re on that Facebook group, yes—you definitely need to read this.)

Let’s rewind to about two weeks ago. A WhatsApp group I’m on exploded in righteous fury over a particular topic. I’ll spare you the fine print to avoid sparking round two, but in short: it involved a heated discussion over the very necessary, ethical management of elephants in Pilanesberg. Cue outrage. Cue the rise of the performative warriors—arms raised, hashtags typed, ready to boycott the very reserve they claim to love.

Some of the loudest voices? Bored housewives on a moral crusade they invented during breakfast. Tree-huggers who believe ecosystems run on positive energy and moonlight. People ready to burn the place down because they weren’t consulted. I responded with a long, detailed, fact-based message. And—unsurprisingly—once logic entered the chat, the conversation died. Because when someone brings facts to a feelings fight, things tend to quiet down.

As I said back then (and still stand by):

“Emotional outrage and online activism often cause more harm than good. Real conservation change doesn’t happen on Facebook. It happens quietly, through legal processes, ecological research, and people on the ground who know what they’re doing. Trust that—not the social media pile-on.”

Now, if you’re still with me: great. Because no sooner had the dust settled from that debacle, than another non-event happened this week—and surprise, the outrage came storming back, foam and pitchforks in hand.

This time, it was the humane killing of a severely injured elephant. A decision made—listen closely—by actual ecologists and veterinarians. Experts. Not “guys with a camera” or “ladies who’ve been to Pilanesberg since 1989.” Professionals.

Naturally, the public outcry wasn’t over why the elephant was euthanised, but how. “Why didn’t they use an injection?” —already having made up their mind that it had been shot without any information— they shrieked from their armchairs. Well—strap in, Susan—because darting a full-grown elephant with lethal drugs is dangerous, both for humans and scavengers. Animals that feed on the carcass (you know, like lions) can die from the toxins. Bullets are safer. Cleaner. And, yes, allow the carcass to be recycled by the ecosystem rather than rot into wasted death. The park even placed the carcass near a road so visitors could witness nature doing its thing. Still, that wasn’t enough.

The dumbest comment I read this week? Someone posted a photo of lions feeding on said carcass, and earnestly warned: “I hope they didn’t use an injection. It could poison the lions. I know a bit about it.”
Ah yes. Thank you, Linda. I’m sure your diploma in basic business admin has you well-versed in elephant pharmacology. Are you available for emergency consults on Sunday evenings?

This is the problem. Everyone on Facebook is suddenly a veterinarian or an ecologist from the University of Make-Believe. Because they visit Pilanesberg once a year, they now feel they own it. That the rangers at the gate are merely employees of their safari fantasy. Newsflash: You’re not that important, Tannie Magrietjie.

Here’s the point to this otherwise pointless writeup (because, as with everything I write, the contradiction is half the fun):

You do not own this land.
You do not pay levies.
You are not entitled to sit in on board meetings.
Your opinion, however loudly typed in capital letters, carries no weight in ecological decisions.
You are not the High Court.
And no, your post won’t get someone fired for doing their job properly.

Behind the scenes, the real stakeholders—the landowners, concessionaires, ecologists—are fighting quiet, difficult battles for the long-term survival of these places. And the best thing the rest of us can do? Is either help… or back off.

So if you made it this far: thank you. But if your version of conservation activism involves posting rage comments, signing a Change.org petition, and threatening boycotts over things you don’t understand—kindly be helpful, or kindly piss off.

They’ve got enough to deal with without fighting your imaginary crusades too.