Malaysia's new model of conservation

The Malaysian state of Sarawak, on the island of Borneo, is pushing forward with a unique conservation project. On a piece of land nearly twice the size of Luxembourg, it is going to juxtapose three strikingly different uses for land: plantations of acacia, a pulp-producing, non-native monoculture tree, for logging; a natural forest for local indigenous groups to cut and farm; and a biodiversity conservation zone. The biologists in charge of the conservation zone are optimistically thinking that even the plantation zone, if designed and logged systematically, could play a role in supporting species (see page 608).

For many long-time observers of conservation issues, the initial response to such a project may be to roll their eyes and think: "Here we go again." There have, after all, been many timber companies — particularly ones operating in Indonesia, which takes up most of the rest of Borneo — that claimed to be logging 'sustainably' when in fact they were destroying natural forests.

Such scepticism is understandable, but it doesn't make the Sarawak project unworthy of support. Indeed its design gives some grounds for optimism. The conservation biologists involved in it have some economic leverage, as timber companies are subject to increasing pressure from buyers to supply timber that is grown and logged in ways that minimize environmental impact. This was probably the government's central motivation in 'going green' with the planted forest project in the first place.

Even so, the conservation project's organizers have a tough job. If the loggers or timber companies do not seem to be playing by the rules — for example, failing to protect conservation zones as promised, or not using low-impact logging techniques — they need to cry foul to the media or the appropriate government agency. This is the only way to ensure that the project pays more than lip service to its environmental goals. But given the delicate balance of conservation politics and economic goals in Sarawak, it will be difficult to do.

There are other ways to help keep the project on the right path. The conservation aspect depends on proving that there are species worth saving and finding ways to protect them. Ecologists and taxonomists from around the world can help by studying habitat, taking specimens and reporting back. Rather than popping in just to get samples for their collections, they should commit to periodic visits so that changes in both the natural forest and the plantation can be monitored systematically over time in different seasons. Many researchers have already started doing this, but more participation is needed to document the flora and fauna at stake.

One of the most creative proposals to make the most of the experiment in Sarawak concerns the tapir, a large-bodied, short-legged herbivore with splayed feet and a prehensile snout. There is archaeological evidence that Malayan tapirs (Tapirus indicus) were present on the island as recently as 60 years ago, and some researchers have argued that the conservation zone would be a perfect opportunity to bring them back. The mammal's significance in ecological terms might be small, but its restoration to its natural habitat could have considerable symbolic impact. Such reintroductions of large mammals are rare. Globally the Malayan tapir alternates between vulnerable and endangered on conservation lists. Its disappearance from Borneo was probably due to a loss of habitat following uncontrolled logging. What better way to show that logging is now controlled and its habitat protected?

Sadly, Sarawak's biodiversity programme will probably not be able to provide habitat for many other species that need it. Some will be lost. This is an inevitable outcome of a simple reality: to governments such as Sarawak's, as well as to the people who live in and around the forests, the use of the forest is a crucial part of their livelihoods.

The current project is ambitious and, as its organizers will readily admit, success is by no means assured. They haven't even agreed how success should be measured. But subject to these caveats, the project holds considerable promise as a model for biodiversity conservation in a southeast-Asian timber industry that badly needs one.