One by one, the rhinos were sedated, blindfolded, and surrounded by a team wielding a power saw. In a few minutes, their iconic horns—long prized in illicit markets—were removed. To many, it looked like mutilation. But in the eyes of conservation scientists, it is a bold, data-driven move to save a species.

And it seems to be working.

The Impact of Dehorning

In a sweeping new study published in Science, researchers found that dehorning rhinos—a painless process akin to trimming a fingernail—led to a startling 78% reduction in poaching across eight reserves in southern Africa between 2017 and 2023.

The study examined 11 wildlife reserves in the Greater Kruger ecosystem, home to one of the world’s largest rhino populations. Despite the more than 700 poacher arrests and $74 million spent on conventional anti-poaching efforts—including drones, sniffer dogs, patrols—only one strategy stood out as truly effective.

“Dehorning rhinos to reduce incentives for poaching was found to achieve a 78% reduction in poaching using just 1.2% of the overall rhino protection budget,” Dr. Timothy Kuiper, a conservation scientist at Nelson Mandela University and the study’s lead author, told The Guardian.

The implications are profound. While high-tech surveillance and boots-on-the-ground enforcement are expensive and often reactionary, dehorning turns the logic of crime deterrence on its head: cut the reward, you cut the crime.

The Toxic Obsession With Rhino Horns

Rhino horns are made of keratin—the same protein as human fingernails—and they have become one of the world’s most valuable wildlife commodities. In Vietnam and China, powdered horn is sold in black markets as a supposed cure for everything from fevers to impotence. The belief has no scientific basis, but demand remains strong.

Each year, poachers kill hundreds of rhinos for their horns. In just the first three months of 2025, 103 rhinos were poached in South Africa. Last year, that number was 420. Across Africa and Asia, rhino numbers have plunged. In 2021, India burnt 2,500 confiscated rhino horns worth $78 million on the black market.

This is why conservationists have turned to dehorning. Veterinarians use sedation to remove the horns above the growth plate. The operation is painless and must be repeated every 18 months as the horn regrows. Still, some horn—5 to 15 centimeters—must remain, and that’s part of the challenge.

Even without their horns, some rhinos sadly get targeted. The research team documented the killing of 111 previously dehorned rhinos, mostly in Kruger National Park, South Africa’s flagship reserve. “Some poaching of dehorned rhinos continued because poachers targeted horn stumps and regrowth,” the study authors wrote. In Kruger, lower rates of dehorning and easier access from neighboring Mozambique may have played a role in these continued losses.

Even so, the numbers were clear: horned rhinos faced a 13% chance of being poached in any given year. For dehorned rhinos, that risk dropped to just 0.6%.

A Radical Rethink

For decades, conservation strategies have leaned heavily on a “big-stick” approach: more patrols, tougher penalties, better tech. These interventions had merit, but the study found no statistical evidence that they significantly reduced poaching. Despite sophisticated detection tools—cameras, drones, even polygraph tests for staff—the killing continued.

Vanessa Duthé, a rhino researcher at Harvard University who was not involved in the study, called the findings ‘robust and overdue’. “This study shows that the benefits of dehorning largely outweigh the costs,” she told The New York Times.

Removing horns may spare rhinos from the horrific deaths that come with poaching. But it also raises ethical and ecological questions.

“Is a rhino still a rhino without its horn?” Kuiper asked. “That’s a bigger question.”

Rhinos use their horns to defend territory, forage, and interact with others. Early research suggests dehorned individuals may become shy and roam smaller areas. The full ecological cost of horn removal remains unknown.

A Workaround, Not a Silver Bullet

The study doesn’t present dehorning as a standalone solution. It worked best when combined with other targeted actions and within a broader conservation strategy. “We wouldn’t like to keep dehorning them for the next 100 years,” Kuiper said. “Ideally we would like to address the drivers of poaching. But it is better than the impacts of poaching.”

Those drivers—poverty, corruption, and international demand—are deeply entrenched. Many poachers come from impoverished communities and face weak or corrupt justice systems. Some rangers themselves are caught colluding with criminal networks.

Still, the clarity of the data makes a case that’s hard to ignore. “Dehorning is not a long-term solution,” Kuiper said. “At the end of the day, it’s a small thing that can be done to hopefully buy time for the broader work that needs to happen.”

That broader work includes educating consumers in Asia, supporting frontline rangers, empowering local communities, and holding traffickers accountable. Dehorning doesn’t replace those efforts. It only buys time for them to work.

In Memoriam

The study also carries a poignant tribute. Co-author Sharon Haussmann, a veteran conservationist who played a pivotal role in coordinating the effort, died unexpectedly during the study’s final stages.

This work is a testament to her vision, as well as a call to action. A challenge to reevaluate how we fight wildlife crime and how we measure success.