No Lynx for Scotland – But Can Britain Still Be “Wild”?

The reintroduction of lynx to Scotland’s Highlands and Britain as a whole is a debate steeped in ecological ambition and contentious social implications. The lynx, a carnivore once native to Britain, disappeared from the landscape over 1,300 years ago. Its absence is the result of hunting pressures and habitat changes induced by the growing human population. Since then, the Great British Isles have become increasingly barren of large predators and its ecosystems, thereby unbalanced by large numbers of red and roe deer, common prey for the lynx. The recent statement by John Swinney, Scotland’s First Minister, at the NFU Scotland Conference that firmly rejects the possibility of lynx reintroduction epitomises the complexity and controversy of this issue.

It follows swiftly from events in January 2025, when four lynxes were illegally released into the wild in Cairngorms, Highlands. The act caused significant controversy, with conservationists and rewilding advocates divided over the ethics of the move, while rural communities and policymakers raised concerns about the potential risks to livestock. It is still unclear who was responsible for the releases, but some have pointed the finger at rouge rewilders taking matters into their own hands, in a similar way to how some beavers were reintroduced by “beaver bombing” rivers as the government struggled to make up its mind about the feasibility of their reintroduction. The release, recapture and subsequent discourse surrounding these lynxes has served to intensify the broader debate on whether apex predators like lynx should be reintroduced to Britain, and who gets to decide the future of the nation’s wildlife. It was not just a violation of regulations, but a symbolic confrontation between a vision of rewilding driven by experts and frustrated activists, and the realities faced by those who would have to live alongside these apex predators.

Swinney’s stance reflects the deep rift between conservationists, who see the return of the lynx as a vital step towards ecological restoration, and rural communities, for whom the presence of such a predator represents a serious risk to their livelihoods. The lynx, a solitary and elusive carnivore, might help balance deer populations and restore natural predator-prey dynamics. Deer overgrazing damages woodland regeneration and in general hinders biodiversity across the Highlands, thus reintroducing the lynx could provide a low cost method of deer regulation and enable the regeneration of forests. But for farmers, landowners, and rural communities, the idea of free-roaming big cats raises fears of livestock losses and the disruption of long-established ways of life. Land use in Scotland’s rural regions is predominantly driven by deer stalking, sheep farming, and forestry. To rural residents, the lynx is not a symbol of rewilding’s potential but a threat to both their livelihoods and their sense of security.

The rewilding of lynx in Scotland is emblematic of a deeper struggle between competing visions of what the “wild” should be, and who gets a say in what that vision looks like. The image of the wild, from a scientific standpoint, is relatively clear-cut: a fully restored ecosystem where apex predators exert top-down control over herbivore populations, promoting healthier vegetation and more biodiverse habitats. But such a view assumes that the wild can and should be restored to its pre-human state. To imagine that the wild can be fully “wild” – some pristine, untouched version of the world – is to ignore the centuries of human land management. The idea of reintroducing an apex predator is seen by many as an imposition by environmentalists in distant urban cities without fully considering the needs and concerns of those who will have to live and work alongside the lynx.

Ecologists, for their part, advocate for carefully controlled reintroductions – citing successes in other parts of Europe, such as the Carpathians and the Jura Mountains, where lynx populations are safely thriving after reintroduction efforts. These efforts have been more successful than those in Britain, partly because they were undertaken in areas already home to large bands of wilderness that had long traditions of managing large predators in a way that could coexist with human activities. These reintroduced populations have shown no inclination to become overly problematic for human settlements, and the lynx are reported to prey primarily on wild species, such as roe deer and rabbits, rather than domestic livestock. In 2021, in order to gauge the feasibility of the lynx’s return, Lynx to Scotland commissioned a comprehensive assessment of public and stakeholder attitudes to a possible reintroduction, with a mostly positive result. Moreover, a recent poll following the events last month still shows that 61% of Scots are in favour of the reintroduction, with only 13% opposed. Research by Rewilding Britain, which supports the Lynx to Scotland partnership and The Missing Lynx project – launched in March 2024 to explore the social feasibility of restoring lynx to Britain – suggests the Highlands has the habitat to sustainably support around 400 lynxes. Nevertheless, the legal, logistical, and ethical questions surrounding their reintroduction remain unresolved.

Scotland is already familiar with the concept of predator reintroductions: white-tailed eagles were reintroduced to the Isle of Rhum by conservationists 50 years ago, to the dismay of sheep farmers at the time, whose parents and grandparents had previously shot eagles as pests. It is still highly debated to what extent these eagles are responsible for lamb loss, and it is difficult to square the losses with the income eco-tourism now brings to the area. Farmers want fewer eagles; conservationists say the habitat can support more: half a century after their reintroduction there still seems to be no way to please everyone.

Who then gets to decide whether the lynx should return? To those living in proposed reintroduction areas, the wild is not some abstract notion, and when these stakeholders are not included in the conversation, their views often find themselves sidelined, breeding resentment and mistrust. In this context, any decision to bring the lynx back to Scotland becomes a highly political act, a question not only of biodiversity but of land rights, economic stability, and cultural identity.

The rejection by Swinney is, in part, a recognition of the historical and social context in which we debate the return of the lynx. The lynx’s national extinction was not a natural event but a casualty of expanding civilization. The rewilding movement advocates an ideal where nature is restored to its primeval state, but Swinney’s decision is a reminder that the wild Britain of the future is not simply a scientific or ecological decision – it is a profoundly political one and may not see a return to some distant past, but rather a chimeric landscape beneficial to humans and wildlife alike.