OFFICIAL STATMENT: LIFTING BAN ON LUMBERING WITHIN THE MAU FOREST ECOSYSTEM.

When I first heard the President announce the lifting of the ban on lumbering within the Mau — a forest system that communities and rivers depend on — my stomach dropped. I am a young environmentalist who grew up close enough to a forest to know what the loss of a single mature tree can do to soil, springs and local livelihoods. In Vihiga and the Maragoli Hills we have watched degraded patches that were once living water-tanks turn brittle and thin after waves of extraction. I say this not as a partisan critic but as someone who has seen, up close, how short-term economic wins can become long-term ecological and social losses.

A few realities must sit at the centre of any sober debate about reopening forest harvesting. First: Kenya is running a national push to plant 15 billion trees over the next decade — a headline ambition that has mobilised private groups, civil society and communities across the country. That commitment means nothing if it coexists with policies that make it easier to extract standing, mature forests faster than we can restore them. Planting saplings is important; preserving mature, intact forests is non-negotiable. The two actions are not interchangeable.

Second: “harvest mature trees only” sounds reasonable in a speech, but it is a blunt slogan when reality is messy. Forests, including plantation blocks and natural catchments, are not uniform. Determining which trees are legitimately “mature” requires credible, transparent inventories, trained forest ecologists on the ground, and an accountable chain of custody for felled timber. Without that, the policy becomes a giant invitation for ambiguity. Ambiguity fuels corruption, rent seeking, and the kind of selective excisions we’ve seen challenged in court in other forest cases. The only reason such a policy can be defended is if there are iron-clad, externally verifiable systems to show which trees are taken, where they come from, and who benefits.

Third: legal precedent shows that sweeping changes to logging policy — especially sudden reversals — draw judicial and civil-society scrutiny. When similar moves were proposed earlier, civil society successfully forced courts to demand clearer public processes and safeguards. That should be the lesson: any opening of the saw mills must be accompanied by rigorous public participation, environmental impact assessment, and monitoring that the public can inspect.

So what does the data say about oversight and mapping? Fortunately, there are existing tools and institutions that can help if they are empowered and resourced. International satellite systems and independent platforms (open forest maps, country tree-cover dashboards and Global Forest Watch) already map forest cover and tree-cover change. The Kenya Forest Service (KFS) keeps felling plans and management documents that — in theory — set annual allowable cuts and prescribe selective harvesting approaches for plantation blocks. But the gulf between plans on paper and enforcement on the ground is wide. If the government intends to allow timber from “mature” trees to be sold to local sawmillers, that must be matched by: (a) public, geolocated inventories of the trees approved for harvest; (b) independent third-party verification (satellite + community observers); and (c) an enforceable chain of custody from stump to mill.

Which institutions must act? Kenya Forest Service, the Ministry of Environment, county forest officers, and independent civil-society watchdogs must coordinate to make selective harvesting genuinely selective. Independent NGOs, research institutions and community forest associations can and should be empowered to access the data layers showing where mature trees stand, where past cutting has occurred, and where biodiversity hotspots and water springs lie. This data exists in fragments: from KFS documents and plantation management plans to open satellite datasets. The problem is not pure absence of data; it is accessibility, independence and political will to act on it.

A grave risk remains: will the fate of logging simply fall into the hands of powerful foreign or domestic entities who value timber as a commodity and not as part of a living ecosystem? History suggests this is a real threat. Where governance is weak and commercial pressures high, foreign corporate actors (and local cronies) can capture the gains while leaving local communities and biodiversity with the losses. If the goal is local industry and jobs, there are better and safer ways to secure that outcome: process chains that prioritise supply from plantation estates certified for sustainability, value-addition in country with clear labour and environmental standards, and community benefit-sharing agreements that are transparent and enforceable.

We have just seen another test of government respect for forests with Karura: civil society, led by long-standing forest guardians, challenged attempts to excise large chunks for development and forced the courts to narrow what could be touched. That episode is a microcosm of the larger worry: when political decisions appear to privilege infrastructure and commercial projects over the protection of living forests, the message to communities and young environmentalists is disheartening. If the same logic is applied to the Mau or other crucial catchments, the very services that sustain millions — water, soil stabilisation, climate resilience — will be at risk.

So what should be demanded, loudly and immediately?

1. Publish, publicly and in machine-readable form, the georeferenced inventories of any trees proposed for harvest; include species, diameter, GPS coordinates and justification for maturity. Let independent scientists review them.

2. Require independent, remote-sensing verification (satellite change detection) before and after every approved harvest, and permit community monitors the right to report irregularities with legal protection.

3. Tie any harvesting to a legally binding replanting and restoration finance mechanism that goes beyond token sapling drives — with transparent accounting showing survival rates and maintenance plans.

4. Make all sawmill purchases traceable: stump→permit→transport→mill. No anonymised consignments.

5. Ensure that benefit-sharing accrues to communities who lost access to resources, and that jobs created are local and formalised rather than extractive and short-term.

Finally: there is no moral calculus that balances the value of mature forest ecosystem services against a short-term boost to furniture manufacturing unless the former are first secured beyond reasonable doubt. The government’s intentions to create jobs and support local manufacturing are laudable — but the means matter. We cannot build an economy on top of hollowed out catchments and then simply plant millions of saplings to paper over the wounds. We need a system where young Kenyans — including those who plant trees, guard springs, and fight for the right to breathe clean air — can trust that policy decisions protect the living systems they depend on.

If this administration truly wants a legacy of climate leadership and economic transformation it must act with transparency, accountability and scientifically defensible safeguards. Anything less will be remembered as a moment when short-term politics overrode the stewardship duties owed to future generations. I ask: if you would hand your child a sapling tomorrow, would you agree that the same government should be allowed to cut the old oak that shelters your village without independent proof that the oak’s removal leaves the village better off? The answer should guide our next steps.

— Makova Kevin Snr , CEO & Founder Forezava