During the Covid-19 lockdowns a curious trend bloomed: housebound people across the globe sought solace in greenery which led to an explosion in the popularity of succulents and other rare and endangered plants. These resilient, sculptural plants became symbols of comfort and a connection with nature in a world that had suddenly become claustrophobic. But while succulents bring healing to many homes, how they have come to be traded leaves lasting scars on the landscapes and communities of the Karoo. The surge in demand has given rise to a flourishing underground trade. Criminal syndicates, often linked to international markets, now poach South Africa’s rare succulents - some species millennia old - stripping fragile ecosystems bare and leaving behind more than just ecological damage. These plants are vanishing from the wild, but so too is the social cohesion in the regions surrounding these biomes. Plant poaching in South Africa is not simply a biodiversity issue; it's a social crisis that's finding fertile ground in the country's deep-rooted inequality and culture of corruption. Although the list of local culprits implicates a range of demographics, it's interesting to note how, when global criminal networks seek out vulnerable, impoverished locals to do the dirty work of digging up these rare plants to sell online, this leads to another destructive cycle. Individuals without access to jobs, education or land, for whom economic exclusion has been a generational norm, become easy targets. Other residents in these regions are increasingly reporting that they can usually tell when people who have been recruited by poachers have been paid because the proceeds often fuel substance abuse. So, this is not just about plants, it's a broad conversation about people and power – whether viewed through the lens of generational extractors who offer the land very little in return for their gains, or disenfranchised individuals trying to leverage footing in a losing game. South Africa's historical injustices have left many rural communities landless and marginalised. In this context, it is unsurprising that some residents aren't intrinsically protective when approached by poaching networks. Being denied meaningful ways to plough into and profit from the biodiversity in their environment can make plundering sound like a more fruitful option. If we want to curtail the illegal trade in succulents and its effects, we must first confront the inequities that make it so appealing. The focus needs to shift from criminalisation to collaboration. People from local communities, especially those with rich indigenous knowledge about the ecology and uses of these plants, must be at the centre of conservation strategies. These communities produce custodians of biodiversity with invaluable insights, who would thrive if they were empowered with resources, access to land and economic activity that presents a contrast to poaching.