Navigating a global crisis: impacts, responses, resilience, and the missed opportunity of African protected areas during the COVID-19 pandemic

When the world shut down in March 2020, conservationists feared the worst for Africa’s protected areas. Tourism collapsed, economies stalled, and global attention shifted away from biodiversity. A new study published in Ecology and Society in 2025 offers a picture of what actually happened inside 50 protected areas across 17 Sub‑Saharan African countries and what it means for the future of conservation.

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The COVID‑19 pandemic hit the conservation world with a force few anticipated, and the effects where especially visible in Africa’s protected areas. A new study published in Ecology and Society in 2025 offers a detailed account of how protected area managers across Sub‑Saharan Africa navigated the crisis, what broke down, what held together, and what opportunities slipped away. Drawing on interviews with managers from fifty protected areas in seventeen countries, the authors reveal a story that is both familiar and unsettling: a sector built to protect nature proved remarkably good at holding the line, yet struggled to develop when it  was most needed.

The pandemic’s arrival was unlike the shocks protected areas had weathered before. Managers described past crises; terrorism, drought, political instability as recurring events that, while disruptive, were part of the expected rhythm of their work. COVID‑19 was different. As one manager explained, “covid is a new thing and it affected the whole world… drought, politics, terrorism… is something we always expect.” The global nature of the pandemic, combined with its duration, created a shock that reverberated through every layer of protected area management.

Tourism was the first domino to fall. International arrivals to Sub‑Saharan Africa collapsed by seventy‑two percent in 2020 and 2021, wiping out the primary revenue source for many protected areas. With tourism gone, budgets shrank, staff were sent home, and community benefits evaporated. In some cases, the absence of tourists temporarily strengthened anti‑poaching efforts because rangers normally diverted to tourism activities were suddenly available for patrols. One manager noted that “for almost two years we had all the scouts back on antipoaching duties,” a silver lining that disappeared as soon as tourism resumed and staff were pulled back into visitor services.

Across the sample, managers reported 191 negative impacts linked to the pandemic. Financial losses were nearly universal. Law enforcement and community engagement suffered as movement restrictions made patrols and meetings difficult. Biodiversity threats such as bushmeat hunting, grazing, and mining increased in many areas, though often only temporarily. Local communities faced severe livelihood disruptions, especially in places where tourism had been a major employer or source of benefits. And COVID‑19 rarely acted alone: droughts, conflicts, and political instability collided with the pandemic, creating complex stressor regimes that were often more damaging than COVID‑19 itself.

The heart of the study lies in how protected areas responded. Managers described 143 responses, ranging from emergency fundraising to shifting patrol strategies. Most of these were short‑term coping measures; budget cuts, temporary staff adjustments, improvised community outreach, and efforts to keep essential operations afloat. These responses helped protected areas survive the immediate shock, but they did little to change underlying vulnerabilities. Adaptive responses, such as diversifying funding sources or creating savings accounts, were far less common and often only partially implemented. Transformative responses, meaning deep, structural changes that could reposition protected areas for future resilience, were almost non-existent. The authors identified only one clear example: a protected area that fundamentally restructured its model after tourism collapsed “from one day to another… with no backup plan.”

Why did so few protected areas adapt or transform? Managers pointed to chronic funding shortages, limited decision‑making power, weak support networks, and overwhelming workloads. Many described simply trying to keep operations running under impossible conditions. As one manager put it, “we are just putting out fires.” In this context, long‑term strategic thinking was a luxury few could afford.

The study concludes that African protected areas demonstrated institutional resistance rather than resilience. They absorbed the shock and returned to familiar patterns once restrictions eased, but without the learning, reorganization, or innovation that resilience thinking encourages. Many impacts remained unresolved even two years into the pandemic. The authors argue that COVID‑19 should have been a catalyst for rethinking conservation models, especially the heavy reliance on tourism, but instead exposed structural weaknesses that remain largely unaddressed.

Yet the study is not pessimistic. It highlights the dedication, ingenuity, and adaptability of protected area managers working under extraordinary pressure. It calls for mainstreaming resilience‑thinking in conservation governance, diversifying funding sources, strengthening local agency, and building financial buffers that allow managers to think beyond crisis response. Above all, it urges the conservation community to reflect collectively on the lessons of COVID‑19, not as an isolated event but as part of a broader landscape of overlapping shocks.

The pandemic was a stress test for African protected areas. They survived, but survival alone is not resilience. The next crisis will come, and the question now is whether the conservation sector will be ready not just to endure it, but to evolve.

References:

Boixeda, P. R., Corbera, E. & Loos, J. Navigating a global crisis: impacts, responses, resilience, and the missed opportunity of African protected areas during the COVID-19 pandemic. Ecology and Society 30, (2025).