OPINION: On Lewa CEO appointment and Kenya’s conservation double standards

In a controversial new development, the Lewa Wildlife Conservancy has appointed Rob Macaire, a British national and Oxford University alumnus, as its new Chief Executive Officer, with the role commencing on June 1, 2026. Macaire succeeds Mike Watson, a former British Army officer who presided over the institution for fifteen years without any foundational expertise in zoology or wildlife science.

This transition, framed by the Lewa Board as a strategic evolution towards enhanced global engagement, has sparked widespread concern in Kenya—not because of any lack of qualified local candidates, but due to a precise pattern of institutional capture: the deliberate sidelining of qualified Kenyan candidates in favour of yet another expatriate figurehead whose credentials do not reside in conservation stewardship, despite the board’s repeated public commitments to “local talent” and “Kenyan leadership.”

The board’s announcement, while coated in the language of “a new era of conservation,” reveals a glaring hypocrisy. Their search, initiated in October 2025 with an initial emphasis on conservation backgrounds, swiftly broadened to accommodate “leaders with strong business acumen and international networks.”

Board Chairman Michael Joseph, himself a British national, hailed Macaire’s “diplomatic experience and commitment to Kenyan heritage,” yet one cannot help but observe the calculated exclusion at play—perpetuating the notion that true authority over Kenya’s premier conservation enclaves remains the preserve of foreign hands.

Kenyan professionals, steeped in the nation’s ecological realities and cultural imperatives, were once again deemed insufficiently equipped for an organisation embedded in Kenyan soil, reliant upon Kenyan communities, and entrusted with safeguarding a UNESCO World Heritage Site that harbours 14 per cent of the country’s black rhino population and the world’s largest single herd of Grevy’s zebra.

Macaire’s background is revealing. A career diplomat who served as British High Commissioner to Kenya from 2008 to 2011, he spent more than two decades in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office before moving into the corporate world.

He held senior roles at BG Group, a major oil and gas company, and later at Rio Tinto, one of the world’s largest mining corporations, where he specialised in political risk management and government affairs.

That a conservancy dedicated to protecting Kenya’s natural heritage should choose a man with deep ties to extractive industries—and no formal background in conservation science—has left many wondering whether the appointment is truly about wildlife or something far more strategic.

His diplomatic past adds another layer of unease. Former envoys of that calibre often retain informal links to intelligence networks long after they leave official service. The possibility that Macaire has been placed at Lewa not merely to manage a wildlife reserve, but to advance broader British strategic interests on Kenyan soil, is one that many Kenyans are now quietly discussing.

This appointment does not exist in isolation but forms part of a meticulously woven tapestry of veiled colonialism, wherein British interests continue to exert dominion over Kenya’s land, wildlife, and subterranean wealth long after the formal cessation of empire.

Consider the British Army Training Unit Kenya (BATUK), entrenched in Nanyuki within the same Laikipia region as Lewa. Operating under a bilateral defence pact, BATUK has faced persistent accusations of grave misconduct against local communities—allegations of environmental despoliation, civilian harm, and unaccountable military overreach that have scarred the very soil it purportedly utilises for training.

At the same time, Lewa itself—a vast, British-run conservancy on Kenyan land—has now become the latest node in what appears to be a single network of influence. Together, these institutions control significant tracts of land and natural resources in an area rich in wildlife, minerals, and strategic value.

Macaire’s linkage to Rio Tinto makes this even more troubling. Kenyans have long harboured justified fears that British and allied corporate entities are illicitly extracting and exporting the nation’s mineral riches from Laikipia and its environs to European markets, bypassing equitable national oversight. His advisory role at Rio Tinto does nothing to allay those fears; if anything, it deepens them.

The three stated priorities for Macaire’s tenure—securing long-term funding, deepening “community agency,” and raising Lewa’s global profile—sound noble until one notices how often such language has been used to justify decisions that ultimately keep real power in foreign hands.

Lewa sits on Kenyan soil, within Kenyan communities, and manages a UNESCO World Heritage Site that belongs to Kenya’s natural heritage. Yet its leadership continues to reflect a colonial-era logic: foreigners at the top, Kenyans at the periphery.

The appointment of a British former diplomat and Rio Tinto adviser as CEO of Lewa Wildlife Conservancy—succeeding yet another British national—has exposed the persistent hypocrisy of a board that claims to champion Kenyan talent while repeatedly sidelining qualified Kenyans.

This reinforces suspicions that Lewa forms part of a wider British network in Laikipia, alongside BATUK and other foreign-controlled entities, aimed at maintaining strategic influence over land, wildlife, and potentially valuable natural resources. Rather than advancing genuine conservation, the move suggests a continuation of veiled colonialism, where diplomatic and corporate connections serve to protect external interests at the expense of true Kenyan sovereignty and community agency.

[The writer is a researcher on African affairs and international relations]