What if we relied on biologists?
A brilliant ichthyologist has left us, and it’s partly thanks to him that the people of Nosy Be still enjoy clear water today. I’d like to pay tribute to him—and take this opportunity to reflect on the role of biologists in environmental conservation.
Biologists are not conservationists...
About fifteen years ago, an article by Paul Loiselle caught my attention. It described the fragile ecosystem of the crater lakes of Mont Passot on the island of Nosy Be. Paul was a remarkable American biologist who made extraordinary contributions to our understanding of Madagascar’s freshwater fish. In his article, he lamented the declining water quality in these lakes and warned that it would eventually lead to the extinction of the unique fish species that lived in their isolated waters.
But what struck me most was that this water wasn’t just important for the fish—it was essential for the people of Nosy Be, who hadn’t yet realized the risk. I visited the site and saw that the degradation was caused by destructive farming practices along the lake shores. My teams spoke with local communities, and together, we developed a management plan to protect the lake shores—and, with them, the water quality. We helped plant organic ylang-ylang using soil-fixing systems on slopes that were too steep for farming.
Another biologist, Denis Vallan, published a study in the early 2000s announcing the discovery of the richest area on Earth for endemic amphibians: the Vohimana forest. In his paper, he warned that deforestation threatened to wipe out the forest within a few years.
At the time, my team and I were looking for a meaningful challenge—one that could prove how community involvement in natural resource management could make a real difference. We met with local communities and government authorities, and together we signed a management agreement aimed at finding alternatives to slash-and-burn agriculture while protecting what remained of the forest.
It wasn’t achieved in a day, but twenty years later, Vohimana is an incredible sanctuary for nature—and not one of its 2,000 residents practices slash-and-burn farming anymore.
In the mid-1990s, I had the privilege of hiring my friend Chris Raxworthy, a brilliant herpetologist who played a key role in training the first generation of Malagasy specialists. Many species were already under threat at the time. One of them—the magnificent harlequin frog of Madagascar—faced not only habitat loss but also international trade pressures.
I worked with colleagues in the forestry administration to ban the trade of this species. Then, we engaged with the local communities living near the few dozen hectares that held the largest remaining population of this frog—just a few hundred individuals. They agreed to establish a conservation area.
For years, biologists from Italy, the UK, France, the US, and Madagascar have gathered regularly to prioritize conservation actions for the frog… but somehow, the few thousand euros needed to truly support the community’s involvement have never been found.
I was incredibly lucky to begin my career at a young age as an associate researcher at the National Museum of Natural History in Paris, conducting thrilling fieldwork across Africa and South America.
But after a few years, I realized something important: protecting nature’s wonders would not be the job of biologists alone.
My friends at WWF were also biologists. And because they were my friends, I felt comfortable telling them that hiring animal biologists to solve environmental issues made little sense—because the problems we face are human and economic.
We need biologists’ expertise, yes. But shouldn’t we be placing more anthropologists, sociologists, and economists at the heart of conservation efforts?
Rest in peace, Paul. I appreciated you very, very much.