Targeting Biodiversity Conservation: A Post-2020 World

Guest post by Connor Kendall, recent MEnvSc graduate from the University of Toronto-Scarborough

The world is currently in the midst of the sixth mass extinction where global vertebrate populations have declined by 60% over the past 40 years and human pressures are impacting a vast 75% of the Earth’s surface¹. If we continue along the path of business-as-usual, we will have a lot more to be concerned about than just living underwater in the next 30 years. If we lose most of the world’s pollinators, 40% of which are facing extinction¹, you can say goodbye to your avocado toast and pumpkin spice lattes. If bats continue along their current trajectory and become extinct, you can say hello to endless summer nights with countless mosquito bites. This is why we need global action towards conserving, restoring and sustaining biodiversity, which is exactly what the Aichi Biodiversity Targets hoped to accomplish back in 2010.

Source: UNDP (2013). Charting pathways for biodiversity and sustainable development (retrieved from: https://www.slideshare.net/equatorinitiative/charting-pathways-for-biodiversity-and-sustainable-development)

At the 10^th meeting of the Conference of the Parties in 2010, the Strategic Plan for Biodiversity 2011-2020 was implemented and the 20 internationally agreed upon Aichi Biodiversity Targets were formulated. The goal of this plan was to “take effective and urgent action to halt the loss of biodiversity” by 2020. The years have since gone by and it is now 2020, so what does that mean for the targets and biodiversity conservation? We are still experiencing unprecedented species declines – and despite global commitments towards achieving these targets, as a whole – we fell short and a lot still remains to be done. There is no point dwelling on the past but rather, it is important to learn from our failures and look to the future in order to adapt and create revised targets. We need to refocus our efforts, now more than ever, so that we can transform our relationship with nature and save the things we hold dear (even if that is just avocado toast).

Before we can look to the future, we must first look to the past. Where did we fall short? What can we learn from our failures? Did we miss something? These are the questions that need to be answered if we want to succeed in the future. In writing this blog about the past and future of International Biodiversity Targets, I hope to draw attention to the issue of biodiversity loss and highlight the importance of not only creating these targets but also achieving them, in the years to come.

Where did we go wrong?

It’s been 10 years since the 20 Aichi Biodiversity Targets were agreed upon and we have fallen short of almost all of them. The targets have been criticized for being too ambiguous leaving room for interpretation, not being quantifiable enough making it difficult to track progress, and not being binding which allowed countries to create individualized targets that don’t meet the global targets. Together, these may be a couple of the reasons why we have failed to meet the majority of the goals globally.

Let’s take a look at Aichi Target 11 which is one of, if not the most, talked about target. Target 11 falls under the Strategic Goal C and states:

 

“By 2020, at least 17 per cent of terrestrial and inland water, and 10 per cent of coastal and marine areas, especially areas of particular importance for biodiversity and ecosystems services are conserved through effectively and equitably managed, ecological representative and well-connected systems of protected areas and other effective area-based conservation measures, and integrated into the wide landscapes and seascapes.”

 

As far as the target itself goes, it is one of the most quantifiable and easily tracked targets, providing exact percentages of area that must be conserved. It is specific and uses unambiguous language, providing clear guidance on how to achieve the target. Areas must be ecologically “representative”, “well-connected” and “effectively and equitably managed”. Seems fairly straight-forward, right? Wrong. Because the Aichi Biodiversity Targets are not binding and act more as a guide than a hard-and-fast rule, different government agencies can take these “guidelines” and adjust them into what works for them. For example, in 2015 (five years after the original targets were imposed) Canada came up with their own 2020 Biodiversity Goals and Targets, giving them just a couple of years to make any real progress. The issue with these targets is that they removed a lot of the meat from the Aichi Targets, solidifying the dreary fate of biodiversity. For comparisons sake, let’s take a look at Canada’s Target 1, to see just how Aichi Target 11 was altered:

 

“By 2020, at least 17 percent of terrestrial areas and inland water, and 10 percent of coastal and marine areas, are conserved through networks of protected areas and other effective area-based conservation measures.”

 

What was once 62 words has been condensed down to 32. The main idea of the target and the percentages are still there however, it leaves out the idea of conserving ecologically representative areas that are effectively and equitably managed. By removing these ideas, Canada made a more ambiguous target and set themselves up to achieve the target in all the wrong ways. And Canada is not alone.

The Protected Planet issued a report in 2018 and have since updated it with information from February 2020. According to this report, 15.1% of the global terrestrial area and 7.9% of the global marine area have been conserved. 

Source: UNEP-WCMC and IUCN (2020). Protected Planet: The World Database on Protected Areas (WDPA), February 2020 version (retrieved from: https://livereport.protectedplanet.net)

Looking at these numbers, it seems like we are heading in the right direction but, when you dive further you notice that is not the whole picture. Remember in the Aichi Target 11 when it specified the areas needed to be “representative”, “well-connected” and “effectively managed”? The Protected Planet Digital Report looked at the percentage of areas that are conserved that meet each of these criteria and this is what it found: 5% of terrestrial areas and 1% of marine areas are effectively managed, 9% of terrestrial areas are ecologically representative, and 7% of terrestrial areas are well-connected.

Source: UNEP-WCMC and IUCN (2020). Protected Planet: Aichi Target 11 Dashboard (retrieved from: https://www.protectedplanet.net/target-11-dashboard)

Because the countries had the ability to adapt the Aichi Targets to suit their needs, it left too much room for ambiguity and inadequacy, ensuring that by 2020, there was nothing the world could do but fall short. It is important when we look to the future of biodiversity conservation that we consider the mistakes from the last 10 years and learn from them to ensure biodiversity is around for the generations to come.

What does the future look like?

The future remains uncertain but what is certain, is the need to act now. Many believe that new targets must be SMART (specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, time-based), should integrate scientific research where applicable, and involve progressive steps and actions similar to a roadmap for achieving the targets.

Negotiations have already been underway and governments have given themselves two years to develop a post-2020 framework that is to be presented at the 15^th Conference of the Parties, at the UN Biodiversity Conference in 2020 in Kunming, China. An open-ended intersessional working group, under the leadership of Mr. Francis Ogwal of Uganda and Mr. Basile van Havre of Canada, has already published the Zero Draft of the Post-2020 Global Biodiversity Framework as of January 13th, 2020. The framework hopes to provide both the context and structure required to allow diverse stakeholders to communicate and work together towards the common goals.

The zero draft looks to the next decade and identifies a 2030 Mission:

 

“To take urgent action across society to put biodiversity on a path to recovery for the benefit of planet and people.”

 

The post-2020 framework also proposes 20 new biodiversity conservation targets. What is interesting about the proposed targets is that there are similarities to the original Aichi Targets and it is evident that the working group considered the mistakes that were made and learned from them when drafting the new ones. For example, the second proposed target mirrors Aichi Target 11 and ups it by creating the more ambitious proposed Target 2:

 

“Protect sites of particular importance for biodiversity through protected areas and other effective area-based conservation measures, by 2030 covering at least [60%] of such sites and at least [30%] of land and sea areas with at least [10%] under strict protection.”

 

The target not only identifies higher percentages of area protected, but also offers up the condition of “strict protection” which was not included in the original Aichi Target 11.

It is also evident in the new proposed targets that the working group listened to the public over the past decade and tried to incorporate issues that people care about like plastic waste in proposed Target 4, climate change mitigation and adaptation in proposed Target 6, and the sustainable use of wild species in proposed Target 7. In order to stand a chance of reaching the goals by 2030, it is clear that the public needs to be engaged with these targets, and what better way to do it than include things that people are already passionate about.

The Zero Draft of the Post-2020 Global Biodiversity Framework is promising and it has huge potential to have a ripple effect in many countries, but there are some things that need to be reviewed and reconsidered before that can happen. Some of the targets remain to be unquantifiable, such as the proposed Targets 16 and 17. At the very least, the working group should consider including some guidelines as to how to achieve and track these targets, to ensure they do not get lost and forgotten alongside some of the “bigger ticket” targets.

Any new framework that is implemented will have its highs and lows, but to ensure the 2030 Mission and Targets are achieved in the best way possible, it is important that the new framework works on strengthening the existing Aichi Targets, progress and initiatives that are underway and learn from them, as well as have stricter guidelines in place to avoid the ambiguity and inadequacy that came about from the Aichi Targets.  

All hope is not lost, but much still remains to be done. Now, more than ever, we need a drastic shift in the way biodiversity is viewed and valued in order to stand a chance of putting an end to the sixth mass extinction and the post-2020 framework is a step in the right direction.

 

1.     WWF (2018). Living Planet Index. Retrieved from: https://www.worldwildlife.org/pages/living-planet-report-2018 

Southern Ontario’s Ecoregions in Slow Motion: An Eight-Year Journey Along the Bruce Trail

Guest post by Daniel Stuart, MEnvSc Candidate in the Department of Physical & Environmental Science at the University of Toronto-Scarborough

During the final year of my undergraduate program the idea of hiking all 900-or-so kilometres of the Bruce Trail somehow lodged itself in my head. It was 2010 and I was twenty-one years old, immersed in the idealism of that age and on the doorstep of a career as an ecologist. At the time hiking from Queenston Heights along the Niagara River to the town of Tobermory at the northern tip of the Bruce Peninsula (Figure 1.) seemed an appropriate way to gain a more meaningful appreciation of my home province’s landscape. This would turn out to be true in part, but little did I know that the more valuable takeaway would be a practical education in the transitional ecosystems that define Southern Ontario’s landscape. For those without the time to hike it themselves, take a tour with me along the trail from south to north exploring its subtle but undeniable ecological shifts.

Figure 1: Bruce Trail Map (Bruce Trail Conservancy, 2020

As life sometimes goes, it was another two years before I finally purchased the Bruce Trail Reference guidebook and embarked on my first sojourn, a three day hike that would take me from the southern terminus of the trail at Queenston Heights back to Hamilton where I lived at the time. I hopped on a free shuttle bus heading for a casino in Niagara Falls and upon arriving was accosted by the bus driver when he spotted my backpack and water jug, realizing I had no intention of gambling that day.  It was September 2, 2012 and the first miles of the trail were peppered with sightings of uncommon shrubs and trees like Bladdernut (Staphylea trifolia), Sassafras (Sassafras albidum), Spicebush (Lindera benzoin), Pignut Hickory (Carya glabra), and Hill’s Oak (Quercus ellipsoidalis), many of which display full fruit in the late summer. These shrubs and trees share a common trait: in Canada they are confined to the Carolinan Ecoregion.

The Carolinan Ecoregion (defined as Ecoregion 7E in Ontario; Figure 2.) occupies the southernmost portions of Ontario, extending from the shores of Lake Erie to approximately Grand Bend in the west, London, Hamilton, and Toronto in the east. Named for the forests typical of the Atlantic Coast from Long Island to Georgia, this region is dominated by a large variety of deciduous (or, leafy) trees including those listed above that fail to thrive in cooler climates to the north or west (Colthurst & Waldron, 1993). In the Niagara Region the sheltering cliffs and slopes of the Niagara Escarpment offer a slightly warmer microclimate that encourages the region to “punch above its weight” in terms of plant diversity.

Figure 2: Ecoregions of Ontario (Crins et al., 2009)

My first journey from the Niagara River ended in utter failure when with painfully blistered soles, just 26 kilometres into my expedition I swallowed my pride and called a friend to pick me up at the Brock University campus in St. Catharines. I would eventually work up to 30- and even 40-kilometre days, but this would take years of training and a good deal of re-conditioning every spring to tighten up my legs that would seemingly turn to jelly each winter.

The “southern feel” of the Bruce Trail gradually diminishes as one hikes westward toward Hamilton, the conspicuously common open-grown oaks (Quercus spp.) gently replaced by the familiar Sugar Maple (Acer saccharum)-dominant woodlands that emblemize Canada. The extensive forested tracts of the Dundas Valley offer the final display of southern species before mounting the escarpment where suddenly one stands firmly in the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Ecoregion (defined as Ecoregion 6E in Ontario; Figure 2.).  The abruptness of the transition surprised me. I recall spotting the northernmost stand of a southern tree, a population of Chinquapin Oak (Quercus muehlenbergii) perched below the escarpment brow next to Sydenham Road in Dundas. Although I understand that southern species are occasionally found north of the official boundaries of the Carolinian Ecoregion, along the Bruce Trail I encountered no other Carolinian-specialist plant. The sheltered valleys of the Hamilton area seem to provide a last bastion for southern plants that struggle to tolerate the exposed landscape above Burlington and beyond.

From the Burlington heights the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence forest extends northward all the way to the edge of the Canadian Shield, which itself transitions into the seemingly endless Boreal forest that blankets the northern part of our continent. Unlike the Carolinian region which comprises mostly deciduous trees, or the Boreal region which compromises mostly coniferous trees, the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence forest is a roughly equal mix of the two. This forest type features strong representation from leafy trees like Sugar Maple (Acer saccharum), American Beech (Fagus americana), and Black Cherry (Prunus serotina) along with their needled counterparts like Eastern White Pine (Pinus strobus), Eastern White Cedar (Thuja occidentalis), and Eastern Hemlock (Tsuga canadensis).

I hiked the central stretches of the Bruce Trail at a slower rate between 2014 and 2018, a section that traverses a hilly complex of woodlots, river valleys, and bucolic landscapes. I came across a Striped Maple (Acer pensylvanica) in the Caledon area and a small Jack Pine (Pinus banksiana) stand on a north-facing slope near the Hockley Valley, both typically northern trees. My first Northern Holly Fern (Polystichum lonchitis) was observed in Noisy River Provincial Park near the village of Creemore, a plant that in places coated the trailside by the time I reached Owen Sound. Similarly, I spotted a tiny American Hart’s Tongue Fern (Asplenium scolopendrium var. americanum) in the Beaver Valley, a globally uncommon species whose core range is concentrated around Owen Sound and the lower reaches of the Bruce Peninsula.

By May of 2019 I was hiking in earnest, setting aside many weekends to cover the approximately 210 kilometres from the west edge of the Beaver Valley near Kimberley, through Owen Sound and to the base of the Bruce Peninsula near Wiarton. The birding that spring was glorious, and I often hiked with binoculars somewhat annoyingly tugging against my neck. In the Beaver Valley I observed my first ever Louisiana Waterthrush (Parkesia motacilla) along the rushing banks of Bill’s Creek. A Philadelphia Vireo (Vireo philadelphicus) flitted between branches in a woodlot near Walter’s Falls, a Golden-winged Warbler (Vermivora chrysoptera) was spotted within a thicket at the Bighead River Overnight Rest Area, and a Green Heron (Butorides virescens) squawked at me near the Bognor Marsh.

In early September 2019 I began the big push up the Bruce Peninsula toward Tobermory, in a four-day period that would take me from the town of Wiarton to Crane Lake Road just before the southeast boundary of Bruce Peninsula National Park. Logistics were more complicated now and I was forced to consider packing lightweight provisions that were adequate but could still be carried on my back. There were also safety considerations specific to the Bruce Peninsula, like establishing a check-in system where cell reception was poor, and to keep aware of Black Bear (Ursus americanus) and the docile but not entirely unthreatening Massasauga (Sistrurus catenatus), Ontario’s only venomous snake. Bear scat was an intermittent sight along the length of the peninsula, first observed just 14 kilometres past Wiarton along Malcolm Bluff.

Although forests remained of mixed composition typical of the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence region, cool northern exposures and thin-soiled areas took on a palpable “northern feel”, often dense with Eastern White Cedar (Thuja occidentalis), pine (Pinus spp.) and Eastern Hemlock (Tsuga canadensis). Wind-beaten crags offered habitat for abundant Bearberry (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi), a northern species yet unseen on my journey so far, and Rattlesnake Plantains (Goodyera spp.) became commonplace. By the time I reached the edge of the National Park the Boreal woods felt much closer.

Sadly, poor weather and low spirits cut my hike short in September, with soggy feet and an approaching storm promising to result in a miserable finale. Despite this setback my goal to finish the Bruce Trail remains firm. At this moment I have booked a campsite in the National Park this May 2020 and (barring any disasters) myself, along with three companions, will finish the final 40 kilometres toward the trail’s northern terminus.

To walk the Bruce Trail is to walk a cross-section of Southern Ontario. For me it has offered an education in landscape ecology earned by traversing it first-hand. It has been a limit-testing and a character-building experience. Although I now hike with a different outlook than my 21-year-old self, I must credit him with having the guts to recognize the journey’s value and for accepting its challenge.

References

Bruce Trail Conservancy. 2020. Explore the Trail. Bruce Trail Conservancy. <https://brucetrail.org//trail-sections>. Retrieved 13 February 2020.

Colthurst, K., Waldron, G. 2013. “What is a Carolinian Forest?”. Essex Region Conservation Authority. Carolinian Canada. <https://caroliniancanada.ca/legacy/SpeciesHabitats_Forests.htm>. Retrieved 13 February 2020.

Crins, William J., Paul A. Gray, Peter W.C. Uhlig, and Monique C. Wester. 2009. The Ecosystems of Ontario, Part I: Ecozones and Ecoregions. Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources, Peterborough Ontario, Inventory, Monitoring and Assessment, SIB TER IMA TR- 01, 71pp.

Into the Eye of the Elephant Storm: Poaching in Africa’s Last Great Elephant Refuge

Guest post by Adam Byers, MEnvSc Candidate at the University of Toronto-Scarborough

It’s hard to put into words the feeling you get gazing up into the gentle, intelligent eyes of a 5-tonne African elephant. But that’s exactly where I found myself six months ago, deep within the borders of Botswana’s Chobe National Park.

Two members of a small bachelor herd in Chobe National Park, Botswana

I was nearing the end of a camping safari across the grasslands of southern Africa, and just when I thought it wasn’t possible to top the incredible wildlife I’d already experienced, Africa proved me wrong in a surreal heart-stopping moment. A towering young bull elephant emerged from the bush and passed by our jeep close enough to touch. It’s the kind of experience you never forget. But it’s an experience that may soon cease to be possible.

The African bush elephant is a threatened species as designated by the IUCN (Blanc, 2008), the global organization that assesses at-risk wildlife. Tracked since 1986, the species is currently listed as “vulnerable”, and recent trends suggest populations are in decline (Chase et al., 2016). Making matters worse, this year elephant conservation was dealt a devastating blow that is already having major consequences: in May, the new president of Botswana revoked the country’s zero-tolerance policy on poaching and stripped the weapons from Parks officers. Mere weeks later, the place of my elephant encounter was transformed into a scene of destruction and violence. By September, surveys carried out by the charity Elephants Without Borders found 87 dead elephants killed for their tusks.

Botswana supports among the densest populations of elephant in Africa (from Chase et al., 2016)

Botswana is home to the world’s largest population of elephants, and has long been esteemed for its tough stance on poaching. A commentary released last year by researchers from the University of Botswana emphasized the nation’s shoot-to-kill order as responsible for reducing illegal hunting (Mogomotsi & Madigele, 2017), which is a leading cause of elephant mortality, particularly for tusked males (CITES, 2017). The belief was widespread, shared with me by guides and park staff from Zimbabwe to South Africa, who lauded Botswana’s approach. So it’s no wonder the policy reversal was met with international outrage, which only intensified with the discovery of dozens of poached elephants in the Chobe park and other protected areas.

The government denied the claims, insisting the numbers were much lower, but in a continent still rife with corruption it is difficult to know who to believe. But whether it’s one elephant or one hundred, the harm is unacceptable. And the fact that it followed so closely after the disarmament of the country’s anti-poaching unit can be no coincidence.

Further investigation, however, shows that despite the likely connection, the government may have done no wrong. The shoot-to-kill policy was never official legislation, and as I was warned during my adventure, there were no real criteria before escalating to violence – simply being in a protected area after dark was sufficient for guards to open fire. This led to several years of clashes between anti-poaching units and citizens of neighbouring nations.

Proportion of illegally killed elephants (PIKE) from 2003 to 2016; the red line represents the level at which half of all deaths are due to illegal hunting or poaching (adapted from CITES, 2017)

Regardless of the controversies and merits of the former anti-poaching strategy, scholars are quick to point out that this sort of harsh response was only a band-aid solution. In an impoverished country ravaged by AIDS, inequality, and lack of clean water, poaching offers a high-risk but extremely tempting escape. Ivory values peaked at over $1,700 per kilo (CAD) in 2015, and with a pair of adult male tusks weighing up to 90kg, a single elephant could represent a lifetime’s salary. The price of ivory has decreased since China’s ban earlier this year, but with a thriving black market trade, and U.S. President Trump reversing a ban on ivory imports, the world is far from a cohesive anti-poaching strategy.

Given the lucrative market, it’s no wonder that a sophisticated system of poachers has descended on the country, especially now that the risk is reduced. But as one ranger in Botswana explained, these poachers are not necessarily bad men. They are sons and brothers. Husbands. Fathers.

If we want to fix the poaching problem, we need to dig deeper for a solution. We need alternative livelihoods for the marginalized men that are turning to poaching in order to provide for their families. Conservation and humanitarian NGOs operating around the world have long tried to implement programs to encourage alternate sources of food and income, but unfortunately few of these programs have had adequate funding or infrastructure to measure the results. To assess whether conservation benefits were being achieved, the IUCN conducted interviews as part of an enlightening assessment of 15 alternative livelihood projects in Central Africa (Wicander & Coad, 2015). In many cases funding was inadequate to meet program targets, and the majority lacked sufficient monitoring to measure progress. These findings were echoed in a systematic review conducted by Dilys Roe and colleagues (2015). The authors found only 21 studies that adequately assessed conservation outcome of alternative livelihood projects, only a third of which were from Africa, and none of those specifically dealt with poaching. Scientists are often quick to raise problems, and usually to suggest solutions, but there is also a need to follow through to determine whether those solutions are working. There is a clear gap that needs to be addressed to determine which interventions are effective at both reducing poaching and meeting socioeconomic goals, and researchers and NGOs must work together to ensure adequate funding is available for such programs.

In the last days of my trip I visited a local primary school where I had the opportunity to meet both students and teachers. Despite its troubles, Botswana is a fast-advancing nation and a leader in education among its peers. Their children today have more choice and freedom than ever before, and it is up to them to set the course for the world’s last great elephant refuge. And I have no doubt they will succeed if we just give them the opportunity, because like their gentle giant neighbours, they are kind and enthusiastic. Thoughtful. Intelligent.
To see it, you just need to look into their eyes.

Photo by Adam Byers

Much of the information in this posting is taken from first-hand experiences and conversations in Botswana and neighbouring nations. For fuller appreciation of the complexities of the issue, I recommend reading the news articles linked above and the referenced studies and documents below. For more on endangered elephant populations or to find out how you can help, visit the IUCN or World Wildlife Fund.


References
Blanc, J. (2008). Loxodonta africana. The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species 2008. International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources.

Chase, M. J., Schlossberg, S., Griffin, C. R., Bouché, P. J., Djene, S. W., Elkan, P. W., ... & Omondi, P. (2016). Continent-wide survey reveals massive decline in African savannah elephants. PeerJ, 4, e2354.

CITES. (2017). MIKE Report: Levels and Trends of Illegal Killing of Elephants in Africa to 31 December 2016 - Preliminary Findings. Convention on International Trade n Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora.

Mogomotsi, G. E., & Madigele, P. K. (2017). Live by the gun, die by the gun: Botswana’s ‘shoot-to-kill’policy as an anti-poaching strategy. South African Crime Quarterly, 60, 51-59.

Roe, D., Booker, F., Day, M., Zhou, W., Allebone-Webb, S., Hill, N. A., ... & Shepherd, G. (2015). Are alternative livelihood projects effective at reducing local threats to specified elements of biodiversity and/or improving or maintaining the conservation status of those elements? Environmental Evidence, 4(1), 22.

Wicander, S., & Coad, L. (2015). Learning our Lessons: A Review of Alternative Livelihood Projects in Central Africa. International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources.