What does a billionaire do when he wants to save animals? Apparently, he collects them. By the tens of thousands.
At Vantara, a vast private zoo in Gujarat, India, founded by Anant Ambani, more than 150,000 animals have reportedly been amassed since 2022. The facility calls itself a rescue, rehabilitation and conservation centre. It has elephants receiving hydrotherapy and veterinary care, and enough land to cover 3,500 acres. Impressive facilities. Extraordinary resources. But what about the animals?
A tiger doesn’t become free because their enclosure is expensive. A gibbon doesn’t gain autonomy because someone has stamped a permit. And an elephant receiving a massage still has no say over where she lives.
Rescue, or acquisition?
A joint investigation by The Guardian and Mongabay has uncovered how British authorities issued 152 permits between October 2023 and September 2026 for live animals destined for Vantara. They covered 18 species, including tigers, lar gibbons, critically endangered cotton-top tamarins and ruffed lemurs. Most permits concerned species receiving the highest level of international trade protection. Crucially, permits aren’t proof that 152 shipments took place. At least 44 went unused, 6 were cancelled and 19 were recorded as used. The outcome of many remaining applications is unclear. But the paperwork tells us something about the wider system. These animals can be classified, approved and transferred between institutions, with their lives discussed as imports and exports. Everyone gets a say except the individuals being moved. And where does rescue end and shopping begin?
Vantara has acknowledged that some animals were bought abroad by donors and subsequently donated to the zoo as part of its rescue efforts. 27 applications to import captive-bred falcons and hybrids from Britain raised questions after officials identified a roughly £50,000 payment described as a donation to an exporter. British authorities classified the proposed transfers as commercial rather than zoological. No falcons were sent. The distinction matters legally. It matters ethically, too. If money changes hands to obtain an animal, calling the animal a donation doesn’t magically erase the market that supplied them.
In September, 27 conservation organisations warned that such arrangements risk encouraging further removals from the wild and rewarding commercial breeders. A rescue model that creates demand for more animals to be acquired has a fairly obvious problem.
A very expensive definition of freedom
Ambani has described rescuing hippos from a hunting lodge and penguins from a shopping centre. Animals already trapped in captivity may genuinely need lifelong refuge. Nobody is suggesting turning an animal loose where they cannot survive. But refuge is supposed to exist for the animal’s benefit. It should not become an excuse for endless acquisitions.
The question isn’t simply whether a captive animal is fed, treated by a vet or given enrichment. The question is why humans consider themselves entitled to control that animal’s life.
Vantara is not open to the public, so this isn’t the familiar zoo business of selling tickets to stare at prisoners. It is a different version of the same assumption: that conservation credentials and lavish facilities settle the question of captivity. They don’t.
A cotton-top tamarin isn’t merely a representative of an endangered species. They’re an individual, with relationships, preferences and a life that belongs to them. Keeping a species alive matters, but it doesn’t make every restriction imposed on its members ethically acceptable.
The people with power, and the animals without it
The investigations also revealed attempts by firms representing Vantara to influence British officials ahead of a CITES meeting examining India’s wildlife imports. Officials advised ministers against formal engagement while compliance proceedings continued.
India’s Supreme Court previously cleared Vantara’s operators of wrongdoing. A subsequent CITES fact-finding mission nevertheless raised concerns about import compliance, with a recommendation for temporary restrictions later withdrawn. Vantara denies wrongdoing and has announced a pause on imports until June 2027.
Allegations are not convictions, and permits are not evidence of trafficking. But the controversy also illustrates how readily everyone focuses on the powerful people involved. Billionaires, officials, lobbyists, international committees. A considerable amount of attention devoted to deciding who can acquire animals, and remarkably little to whether they should. Even if every transfer were perfectly legal, that would not answer that question.
There is no conservation achievement in treating living beings as a collection to be expanded. Animals who cannot safely return to their natural homes deserve genuine sanctuary, and those who can should not be denied that possibility to enhance anyone’s conservation credentials. Vantara can call itself a rescue centre. It can build the best facilities money can buy. But nobody should confuse the ability to care for 150,000 animals with the right to possess them.