Much has been written about the promises and pitfalls of community-based conservation and the threat of neoliberal polices for indigenous communities in Africa. The Maasai of Tanzania and Kenya have figured dominantly in this literature. In order to practice pastoralism they depend on large expanses of land, which they often share with wildlife, and they have been subjected to land grabs for wildlife conservation (as well as for farming and investment). These processes have been well documented and yet continue to occur. Benjamin Gardner’s book provides an up-to-date, historically situated look at one particular place where these forces continue to play out in highly political ways—Loliondo, the land just east of the world famous Serengeti National Park. Yet Gardner’s book does more than provide new details on the recurring politics of land appropriation and neoliberal conservation. Through rich historic and ethnographic description he outlines how Maasai have creatively used certain market interventions to support their rights to land and resources and to practice pastoralism in Loliondo. In so doing they are simultaneously challenging how nature is imaged (as a product of pastoralism!) and how conservation should proceed. Gardner is also challenging how academics and activists think and talk about neoliberalism, tourism, and community-based conservation.

Gardner carefully places the current land politics of Loliondo within historic context and tells a story of governance, but also of individuals—in particular, the Maasai intellectual Lazaro Ole Parkipuny and his impact in Loliondo politics. This is a story about on-going contests over resources and identity—from appropriation to co-option and transformation, between Maasai and the state as well as outside investors. Central to this story is the changing meaning of the “village”—often seen as the “de-facto marker of community in Tanzania” (and elsewhere in Africa) (14). Initially viewed as a state imposition and ignored by Maasai, “the village” was transformed by Loliondo Maasai “into a legitimate political entity capable of representing the interests of its citizens, a space of belonging for the Maasai, and finally a site for foreign investment where travel companies could gain access to land for safari tourism” (151). Gardner’s take on how Maasai have used the village to invite and control certain forms of neoliberal conservation and claim legal rights against others, with long-term consequences for conservation, tourism, and Maasai identity, is a valuable contribution to the literature.

Loliondo conservation politics are also framed within a broader discussion of community-based conservation (CBC) globally, highlighting how it is aligned with neoliberal reforms that call for the devolution of resource control as well as for increased international investment in conservation tourism. Most of the book outlines the very different and often contradictory ways in which this has happened in Loliondo through three specific case studies.

The first two cases (chapters 4 and 5) look like quintessential examples of neoliberal land appropriations for conservation and investment. The first is the now infamous case of the Tanzanian government’s leasing two hunting blocks comprising six villages to the United Arab Emirates–owned Ortello Business Corporation (OBC). The second involves the purchase of 12,617 acres (under a 99-year lease) by a U.S. safari company (Thomson Safaris) from the Tanzanian Breweries to create a nature reserve and tourist paradise. Both cases involved contracts with the state and state-supported violence (including the burning of houses) to keep Maasai from grazing in designated areas. The final case (chapter 6) is quite different, with a focus on the “joint ventures” established between village governments (as legitimate legal entities) and Dorobo Safaris, a company run by American expatriates who grew up in Tanzania. The company has spearheaded community-based tourism in Tanzania and supports the coexistence of pastoralism with wildlife. The sponsor pays for exclusive use of village land to bring tourists for “adventure” and cultural tourism. The different cases challenge any singular view of neoliberal reforms and their effects. Maasai paint the first two as examples of the dangers of state control, and the joint ventures as an opportunity for them to claim rights to their land and control over their resources. The state, in turn, claims the need to protect its land and citizens by managing investments and conservation initiatives.

The struggle over who should control the wildlife-rich lands in Loliondo remains unanswered, with communities in on-going legal and political battles with the state over OBC, the Thomson reserve, and plans by the state to establish a new conservation area on the boarder of Serengeti. Gardner does more than provide much-needed nuance to these highly politicized cases. He articulates how the complex entanglements of state authority, Maasai identity, community activism, and neoliberal reforms work together to create new conservation landscapes and challenge others.

This is not a romantic story of community resistance. Nor is it a simple story about victimhood and dispossession. Based on more than two decades of ethnographic research, it is a rich chronicling and sophisticated analysis of on-going everyday and historic struggles over identity, culture, and resources in a neoliberal age. It will appeal to readers both familiar and unfamiliar with the area. The specific politics of Loliondo are intriguing and important for understanding how neoliberal conservation processes are unfolding in other parts of Tanzanian Maasailand and beyond. The book will thus appeal to a broad set of readers interested in the effects of conservation, tourism, and neoliberalism on communities and landscapes across Africa.