War’s impact often ripples far beyond the battlefield — setting off a chain of consequences that shape landscapes, cultures, and economies in ways no one could predict. As we mark the 50th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War, we must recognize that its aftershocks are still playing out in some of the most unexpected ways.
In Southeast Asia, the Vietnam War unleashed just such an effect, influencing the illegal tiger trade that today spans Vietnam, Malaysia, and beyond. What began as wartime survival and cultural resilience has, over time, fed a cross-border black market in tiger parts — one that these countries are now working to dismantle.
Against that vast backdrop of lost lives, shattered communities, and devastated landscapes, focusing on something like the illegal tiger trade might seem oddly narrow, even trivial. And yet, that narrow focus reveals a surprising truth: what many might assume is a free-standing wildlife trafficking problem is intricately woven into the broader social, economic, and cultural histories of Vietnam and Malaysia.
I’ve been working on issues related to trafficking of big cats for the past decade. To address it effectively requires engaging with this deep complexity — the legacy of war, the persistence of tradition, and the realities of economic survival — rather than viewing it as a straightforward market problem.
With this shared history as a foundation, Vietnam and Malaysia are uniquely positioned to lead a regional conservation resurgence.
A War That Disrupted More Than Just Borders
The Vietnam War — or, as it’s known in Vietnam, the Resistance War Against America — left behind a staggering ecological toll. Aerial bombing, napalm, and chemical defoliants like Agent Orange destroyed up to 30% of Vietnam’s forests, wiping out critical habitat for species like the Indochinese tiger.
That ecological crisis, of course, came alongside a human one. With medicines in short supply, many Vietnamese communities returned to traditional remedies made from herbs and animal products — an enthusiastic and proud revival of a Vietnamese national medicine, blending ancient remedies with some modern medicines.
But by the 1990s, things had shifted. As Vietnam’s economy took off, so did spending power. Expensive wildlife remedies, long associated with vitality and strength, were suddenly affordable to more people. A cultural practice born of need became a consumer trend.
Vietnam’s Tigers Vanish — and Attention Turns South
Vietnam’s wild tiger population had all but vanished by the early 2000s.
That scarcity didn’t curb demand though — it just redirected it across the South Asian Sea. Malaysia, with more intact forest and a surviving population of Malayan tigers, became an attractive source for traders.
The route between Vietnam and Malaysia wasn’t new. After the war, Malaysia took in hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese refugees. Over time, that humanitarian corridor turned into something else: labor migration. By the 2000s, Vietnamese workers were filling jobs in Malaysia’s fast-growing palm oil, timber, and manufacturing sectors — many of them in or near tiger habitats.
This migration wasn’t about wildlife. But as is often the case, when workers stumbled upon animals, some saw a way to pad their income — a shift that, over time and with the help of certain Malaysian traders, poachers, and facilitators, evolved into specialized roles within the illegal trade. What began as a small-scale activity evolved into something more organized — not just in tiger products, but also in other high-value forest goods, such as agarwood.
Vietnamese harvesting teams, already operating abroad for agarwood in Thailand and Laos, often became the backbone of these expanding networks. The infrastructure was already there: shared language, established routes, and an expanding black market.
Quang Binh became one of the main provinces for teams of poachers travelling overseas. Hammered by wartime bombing and recurring natural disasters, many residents developed bushcraft survival skills during the war and passed these on to the next generation. Some later used those same skills to participate in forest harvesting and poaching activities abroad, including in Malaysia. Their story is one of economic need intersecting with global demand.
The consequences for Malaysia’s wildlife were devastating. As demand surged, so did pressure on the Malayan tiger. Poaching, compounded by habitat loss, drove the population into freefall. By 2021 fewer than 200 Malayan tigers remained — placing the species on the brink of extinction.
Turning History Into Leadership
Neither Malaysia nor Vietnam created the demand for tiger parts alone — and neither country can end the trade on its own. But both have taken real steps toward conservation.
Malaysia strengthened its wildlife laws in 2010, mobilized over 1,000 community rangers, and formed the National Malayan Tiger Task Force (MyTTF) in 2021, chaired by the prime minister. This raised the urgency for actions to save the critically endangered species. Vietnam also introduced tougher penalties in 2019 and remains a committed party to international wildlife agreements like CITES (The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species).
And just this year, the two nations signed a comprehensive strategic partnership — a sweeping agreement that, among other priorities, names security and defense cooperation as shared goals. It’s a sign that the era of isolated efforts may be coming to an end.
Lessons From the Past
This shared history offers three key takeaways.
First: War changes ecosystems — and societies. The destruction of Vietnam’s forests and healthcare systems didn’t just hurt tigers in the short term; it also shifted how people related to nature, medicine, and survival.
Second: cultural practices aren’t static. What began as traditional healing became a luxury trend. Conservation efforts must address both cultural roots and economic shifts.
And finally: solutions must cross borders. The tiger trade is transnational, and so are the forces driving it — from poverty to prestige to migration. Conservation must be transnational too.
A New Chapter for Tigers
Vietnam and Malaysia’s intertwined past and emerging interdependence can now become a foundation for something new. But seizing this moment means going beyond policy statements.
Neither country can do this alone; they need each other. The comprehensive strategic partnership offers a new foundation for dismantling the Malaysia-Vietnam tiger trafficking problem.
Accomplishing this requires cross-border information sharing and joint counter-trafficking strategies that target key points along the supply chain — both of which the strategic partnership should now enable. Vietnam and Malaysia can now prioritize closing opportunities for the illegal movement of people, wildlife products, and finances that sustain the problem, and coordinating investigations against key roles in the trade.
The private financial and transportation sectors have levers to pull here. For example, investigating and freezing assets of individuals financing and profiting from tiger trafficking, enhancing screening, and checking procedures in the transport sector.
Governments and NGOs can also harness rural development schemes and vocational training programs, combined with engagement to shift community acceptance away from the illegal wildlife trade. Successful community-based programs in Vietnam, India, and Indonesia have shown how combining clear communication of risks with targeted assistance can steer would-be poachers toward safer, legal livelihoods, but need funding and scale from national governments.
Conservation isn’t just about saving tigers. It’s about supporting people — especially those in the shadow of poverty and conflict. As we mark both 50 years since the end of the Vietnam War and International Tiger Day, the chance to turn a difficult legacy into a powerful model for ecological recovery is a real one.
