Murchison Falls National Park, known for its thunderous waterfall and teeming wildlife, is now ground zero in a collision between conservation and oil extraction. Over a recent weekend, an Environmental Defenders team toured the park and witnessed firsthand the dramatic changes underway. Where there were once unbroken vistas of savannah and roaming herds, there are now freshly bulldozed roads, fenced-off well pads, and the faint gleam of an oil rig’s lights on the horizon. What many scientists, NGOs, and local communities have warned about for years is coming to pass: industrial oil development is reshaping Uganda’s oldest and most visited national park, with dire consequences for wildlife and people.
Established in 1952, Murchison Falls (locally Kabalega National Park) is Uganda’s largest protected area and a jewel of the Albertine Rift. In 2015, the park and its surrounding reserves were home to 144 species of mammals, 556 birds, plus dozens of reptiles and amphibians. It hosts over 70 large mammal species and 450 bird species today – including the endangered Rothschild’s giraffe (Nubian giraffe) with about three-quarters of its global wild population found here. Chimpanzees thrive in the Budongo Forest on the park’s fringe, and the rare shoebill stork haunts its delta marshes. Each year, over 50,000 tourists visit Murchison Falls, generating millions in revenue that supports local communities. By all measures, this park is an irreplaceable natural treasure, “critical both for its innate value and its value to the Ugandan economy.”
Yet beneath this paradise lies another treasure: rich deposits of oil. An estimated 40% of Uganda’s oil reserves lie under Murchison Falls. Since Uganda’s first commercial oil discovery in 2006, the government and international oil companies have eyed the park for development. Now those plans are becoming reality. TotalEnergies (France) and CNOOC (China) – in partnership with Uganda’s government – are leading a mega-project to exploit the oil fields here and around Lake Albert. The project is twofold: Tilenga, which will drill for oil in and around the park, and the East African Crude Oil Pipeline (EACOP), a 1,445 km heated pipeline to ship the crude to Tanzania’s coast. A second extraction project, Kingfisher, targets fields on the lake’s southern shores. Together, these schemes promise to pump out 230,000 barrels per day by 2025, marking the first time oil will be produced inside a protected area in East Africa.
The Ugandan government has been unwavering in its support. President Yoweri Museveni bluntly warned he won’t “allow anybody to play around” with “my oil,” brushing aside critics. Indeed, the country’s wildlife law was amended to permit oil activities in parks as long as the habitat is “restored” afterward. Museveni pitches oil as Uganda’s path to middle-income status under Vision 2040, even as that same plan pledges to “take urgent measures to protect the environment and natural resources.” Economic development has taken precedence over conservation, and officials insist mitigation will make drilling compatible with wildlife, a claim many experts find dubious.
Despite years of outcry from environmentalists, scientists, and local communities, drilling in Murchison Falls officially began in June 2023. The Tilenga project calls for over 400 wells (190 production wells, 190 water injection wells, etc.) drilled from 34 well pads, plus a sprawling Central Processing Facility just south of the park to separate oil from water and gas. In the park’s northern sector, home to the richest wildlife densities, an array of infrastructure is rapidly taking shape: oil rigs, well pads, pipelines, access roads, and camps. Satellite images from May 2024 already show 10 well pads cleared inside the park and roads snaking through formerly untouched savanna. Along the Nile, construction has begun on a pipeline crossing under the river, which will connect to the export pipeline outside the park.
All this has unfolded against heavy criticism. Conservationists argue Murchison’s oil should have remained untapped, given the park’s ecological value. The Albertine Rift region is one of Africa’s biodiversity hotspots, harboring more threatened and endemic species than any other region on the continent. Notably, endangered eastern chimpanzees and countless bird species live in the oil project area. Climate activists like Uganda’s Vanessa Nakate have decried EACOP as a “carbon bomb” that will emit an estimated 34 million tons of CO₂ per year when downstream emissions are counted (the pipeline’s documents acknowledge at least 1.3 million tons of CO₂ annually just from operations). International campaigns under hashtags like #StopEACOP successfully pressured many banks and insurers to back away. As of 2023, at least 20 major global banks—from HSBC and Barclays to Deutsche Bank—publicly ruled out financing the pipeline on environmental and human rights grounds. The European Parliament even passed a resolution in 2022 urging Uganda and Tanzania to halt the project over its human and ecological risks.
Ugandan authorities, however, dismiss these concerns as external meddling. In public meetings, local community members and scientists raised alarms about increased human-wildlife conflicts and habitat damage, only to be rebuffed or ignored by oil executives and officials. TotalEnergies funded Environmental and Social Impact Assessments (ESIAs) that, unsurprisingly, concluded the project was manageable, a case of “a defendant presiding over his own case,” in the words of Dickens Kamugisha of AFIEGO. Independent experts strongly disagreed. The Netherlands Commission for Environmental Assessment (NCEA), invited by Uganda’s regulator to review the EACOP ESIA, reported in 2019 that “the ESIA report does not yet provide enough information for sound decision-making.” It found the study exaggerated economic benefits, downplayed worst-case impacts, and left critical gaps. For example, the ESIA failed to fully assess sensitive ecosystems and wildlife migration routes that would be disrupted and asserted, without justification, that there would be no significant residual impacts after mitigation. Such rosy conclusions, highlighted in glossy summaries, rang hollow given the scale of intrusion planned. Another technical review by E-Tech International blasted the Tilenga ESIA for not meeting international best practices, warning that the close spacing of multiple well pads (often only ~2 km apart) inside the park could form a barrier that elephants and other large mammals will avoid. The review noted that extended-reach drilling technology could have allowed accessing underground oil with far fewer pads in the park, but the company chose a cheaper, higher-impact design.
“Like other rangers, I feared the animals would run away from the oil wells,” admits Chemonges Amusa, a Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA) warden who broke down in tears upon learning the project would invade Murchison Falls. “But the government had made a decision, and we had to learn to manage it.” Indeed, UWA has been placed in the unenviable role of both park protector and project enabler. The agency negotiated some measures with oil developers, for instance, 100-meter buffer zones around known breeding areas for Uganda kob antelopes and 30-meter buffers around a few key waterholes. However, conservationists argue these gestures are inadequate for a project of this magnitude. “Oil development can harmoniously exist in the park,” TotalEnergies insisted in its public materials, but early evidence on the ground is telling a very different story.
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Even in its nascent phase, the oil project’s impact on wildlife is starkly visible. Park residents and researchers alike are documenting alarming changes in animal behavior and well-being as construction advances. Key impacts observed include:
Taken together, these impacts paint a troubling picture: a park under mounting strain and a web of threats multiplying. Perhaps the situation was summed up best by one aghast observer who, after touring the affected areas, remarked, “Murchison Falls National Park is dying.”
The oil development isn’t hitting Murchison in isolation; it’s aggravating existing challenges and colliding with global environmental changes. The park has already suffered extreme climate events in recent years. In 2020–2021, record-breaking floods along the Nile swamped vast stretches of the park’s lowlands. Hippo pools and crocodile nesting sandbanks were washed away by the raging river, leading to significantly reduced populations of hippos and crocs now compared to a decade ago. Extended droughts in other seasons have likewise dried out watering holes that buffalo and antelope rely on. Scientists link these intense floods and droughts to climate change, itself driven by burning fossil fuels like oil, highlighting the cruel irony of expanding oil extraction in a climate-vulnerable protected area.
Meanwhile, poaching and illegal wildlife trade persist as serious problems. During Uganda’s civil conflicts in the 1970s, Murchison’s wildlife was decimated by uncontrolled hunting – elephants plummeted from 15,000 in the 1960s to just 200 by 1995. Though many species rebounded thanks to conservation in the 2000s, a resurgence of commercial poaching (often by organized gangs using automatic weapons) in the 2010s killed an estimated 3,000 elephants across the region in ten years. Rangers have been working heroically to counter poaching, removing snares and conducting patrols, but resources are thin. Until recently, only 50–100 rangers guarded the entire 3,800 km² park. Efforts like Global Conservation’s Global Park Defense have brought new technologies (drones, thermal cameras, better communications) to aid anti-poaching operations. These investments were yielding success – snare collections were up and elephant numbers stabilized around an estimated 1,500+. But now rangers worry that the oil activities could roll back these gains. The influx of workers and easier access roads may facilitate bushmeat hunting and trafficking under the radar. And with more elephants wandering out to communities (as described), there’s also rising risk of retaliatory or defensive killing of wildlife by people. All this comes as global watchdogs like Global Witness have repeatedly flagged Uganda and its neighbors as dangerous places for wildlife and those who protect it. The fight against poaching is now compounded by the need to monitor oil company compliance – stretching UWA’s capacity to the limit.
In essence, Murchison Falls is caught in a “perfect storm” of pressures. An AFIEGO research report released in mid-2024 described the convergence of climate change, poaching, and fossil fuel development as “destroying Murchison Falls National Park”. Respondents in that study noted that where pre-2020 tourists could easily find huge concentrations of hippos, buffalo, giraffes, and elephants, today’s visitors often see much smaller groups or none at all in areas that used to teem with life. It’s as if the park’s wildlife is ebbing away, scattered by habitat loss and disturbance. The words “Murchison Falls National Park is dying”, spoken by a long-time community member, encapsulate the sense of ecological heartbreak.
From a climate perspective, exploiting Uganda’s oil may prove a Pyrrhic victory. The carbon emissions from burning these reserves will worsen the very climate impacts (like floods and droughts) that are ravaging Uganda’s agriculture and natural areas. The government argues that Uganda’s contribution to global emissions is minor and that oil revenues will fund adaptation. But critics point out that by building EACOP and opening new oil fields, Uganda is locking in decades of dirty energy infrastructure at a time when the world needs to transition to renewables. The International Energy Agency has stated that to meet climate targets, no new oil and gas fields should be developed beyond those already approved as of 2021 – a stark contrast to Uganda’s aggressive push now. For Uganda’s own people, the climate crisis is not abstract: just in the past few years the country has seen fatal landslides, unpredictable rainfall wrecking harvests, and increasing temperatures. In the words of one climate activist, “Drilling in a national park in the middle of a climate emergency is like burning your shelter for firewood in a storm – disastrously shortsighted.”.
The saga of Murchison Falls is not only a conservation story; it’s also a story of activism and the increasingly shrinking civic space for environmental defenders in Uganda. Ever since plans for oil inside the park emerged, local civil society groups, journalists, and community leaders have tried to raise the alarm – often at great personal risk. Uganda’s government has met criticism of its oil projects with intolerance and even repression, sending a chilling message to those who would object.
Over the past two years, authorities have systematically clamped down on NGOs and individuals speaking out about EACOP and Tilenga. In August 2021, the government abruptly suspended 54 non-governmental organizations, including several leading environmental and human rights groups. Among them was the Africa Institute for Energy Governance (AFIEGO), one of the most vocal critics of the oil projects. Officials cited technical reasons (like registration issues) for the mass suspension, but many saw it as a politically motivated purge targeting “anti-oil” voices. Around the same time, police raided the offices of NGOs in Kampala and in the oil region (Hoima and Buliisa), seizing computers and file. Staff were harassed and accused of being “anti-development” or even agents of foreign interests. Since 2021, at least 30 activists and community protestors have been arrested for demonstrating or even posting on social media against EACOP. Many were detained for days without charge, only to be released with warnings to stay quiet. Others face ongoing prosecutions on spurious charges like “common nuisance” for participating in peaceful protests.
This campaign of intimidation has forced many environmental defenders to self-censor or scale back their activities. One grassroots organizer described how, after multiple police summonses, his team had to become “less public and more careful” – holding community meetings in secret and avoiding any statements that could be construed as criticism of the President or ruling party’s oil agenda. Digital surveillance and smear campaigns have further marred the atmosphere. Women activists report receiving online threats of sexual violence for their outspokenness (a sadly common tactic to silence women environmental human rights defenders). Some Indigenous leaders advocating for land rights in oil-affected regions have been tagged as “traitors” or even arrested on trumped-up charges – for example, a community leader from the Kingfisher project area was briefly abducted by security forces in 2023 after mobilizing locals to demand fair compensation.
International allies have tried to help. Ugandan NGOs partnered with groups in France to sue TotalEnergies in French courts, seeking to hold the company accountable for human rights and environmental harms. Two Ugandan activists who traveled to Paris in 2019 for one such case returned home only to face increased surveillance and harassment by Ugandan security agencies. In another instance, the European Union’s parliamentarians highlighted the arrests of Ugandan climate protestors, prompting angry rebuttals from Ugandan officials that the EU was undermining the country’s sovereignty.
The net effect of this repression is a palpable climate of fear. As a recent Human Rights Watch report title put it, “Working on oil is forbidden” in the eyes of the Ugandan state. Many conservationists and scientists within Uganda now voice their concerns only anonymously or off-record. Nevertheless, a brave coalition of activists continues to push back. Groups like Environmental Defenders (our organization) remain committed to defending the natural environment and the communities who rely on it – whether through legal challenges, community education, or supporting rangers and local eco-guards on the frontlines. We and partners provide physical and digital security training for environmental human rights defenders, help at-risk activists with emergency relocation or legal aid, and work with Indigenous community leaders to assert land rights in the Albertine region. These efforts aim to empower those speaking up for nature, even as space for dissent narrows.
It’s worth noting that Uganda’s own laws and development plans recognize the importance of conservation, at least on paper. The Uganda Wildlife Act (2019) mandates UWA to protect wildlife inside and outside protected areas, and the country’s National Development Plan and Vision 2040 identify nature-based tourism and sustainable use of natural resources as pillars of growth. Vision 2040 explicitly promises to “ensure [the] future sustainability” of the environment. Yet the decision to drill in Murchison Falls seems to run contrary to these commitments, indicating a gap between policy rhetoric and practice. Critics argue that short-term financial gain (for a few) is being prioritized over Uganda’s long-term environmental well-being and the rights of many
As of mid-2025, the fate of Murchison Falls National Park hangs in the balance. The oil wells are not yet pumping at full capacity, that is slated for late 2025,so there is still time to change course or mitigate the worst outcomes. Conservationists, scientists, and civil society leaders are urging urgent action to prevent irrevocable damage:
Encouragingly, the plight of Murchison Falls is finally gaining international media attention and sparking wider outrage. Influential outlets and organizations are amplifying what’s happening. Global Witness has highlighted threats to environmental defenders in Uganda, The Guardian and Al Jazeera have run investigative pieces, and conservation news site Mongabay recently profiled the elephant conflict around the park. This growing spotlight can build pressure on both the Ugandan government and the companies involved to adopt a more responsible path.
One flashpoint now is the financing of EACOP. After years of community campaigning, many Western financiers walked away, but in June 2024 Standard Bank (Africa’s largest bank) decided to help finance the $5 billion pipeline. The #StopEACOP coalition condemned this move, noting it came “in the midst of a crackdown on human rights and environmental defenders” in Uganda and Tanzania. They pointed out that Standard Bank’s own peers had deemed the project too risky and that the bank’s due diligence seemingly “ignored” the serious climate and biodiversity concern. Following the release of AFIEGO’s report on the park’s impacts, StopEACOP urged Standard Bank and others to reconsider funding: “How did their due diligence miss these impacts?” the campaign asked pointedly. The activists’ message is resonating: if the financial backers pull out, the oil project could be delayed or scaled back, buying more time for conservation solutions to be implemented.
Ultimately, the dilemma of Murchison Falls National Park reflects a broader question: what is the value of a protected area in the 21st century, and are we prepared to uphold it against the temptations of short-term profit? Uganda is at a crossroads where it must decide if it will honor its rich natural heritage or sacrifice it for oil revenues that may last only a couple of decades. The Environmental Defenders team that visited the park left with heavy hearts but also a resolve to fight harder. Our mission has always been to “protect and defend the natural environment, and the people and wildlife that rely on it.” In the Albertine Rift, we engage in tree-planting, habitat restoration, supporting rangers, and advocating for policy changes. Those efforts feel more urgent than ever. We have seen with our own eyes what is at stake – from the frightened elephants now seeking refuge outside park boundaries to the newly bulldozed earth scarring what used to be pristine wild land.
There is a small window still to prevent Murchison from becoming an industrial wasteland. As the StopEACOP coalition stated, “There is little time left for Murchison Falls National Park. We should not sit still while this natural wonder is sacrificed for short-term gains to benefit a few people at the expense of the majority of Ugandans.” It will take a united effort – local communities, activists, scientists, global institutions – to demand a reversal of course. The world has lost too many unique places; losing Murchison Falls, a park that has survived war and rebounded from past devastation, would be a travesty for Uganda and the world.
In one hopeful sign, conservation groups and community leaders are not giving up. They are pursuing legal avenues, mobilizing public opinion, and implementing grassroots mitigation (like community crop-guarding schemes and alternative livelihoods to reduce reliance on the park). Internationally, pressure is mounting on TotalEnergies to live up to its rhetoric of environmental and social responsibility – a lawsuit in France under the “duty of vigilance” law is testing whether the company adequately mitigates harm on this project. If that pressure yields even modest concessions (for instance, additional no-go zones within the park or scaled-down operations), it could make a meaningful difference.
The next year or two will be decisive. By 2025, oil is slated to be flowing and the die may be cast. But if enough voices join together now, there remains a chance to rewrite the ending of this story. It could become a story of wise stewardship,where Uganda charted a new course to development that didn’t require destroying its natural inheritance. As the Environmental Defenders team, we echo the rallying cry from the frontlines: we must all unite to secure this irreplaceable ecosystem for our descendants.The world is watching, and Murchison’s elephants, giraffes, lions, and people are counting on us all to ensure that this storied national park survives and thrives well beyond the oil boom.