Snow leopard trapped between US arrogance and Pakistan’s apathy
Leo remains, at least on paper, at the Bronx Zoo in New York, no one in Pakistan seems sure whether he is still alive
Snow leopard Leo’s story exposes not only American arrogance but also Pakistan’s chronic bureaucratic apathy
Akhtar Pathan
KARACHI, Pakistan (MNTV) –
KARACHI, Pakistan (MNTV) – When a shepherd stumbled upon a tiny, orphaned snow leopard cub in the remote Naltar Valley of Gilgit, in erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir in 2006, it seemed a miracle of survival.
The cub, barely seven weeks old, was fragile, frightened, and motherless. Pakistan’s wildlife officials named him Leo. For a time, he became the symbol of hope for one of the world’s most endangered and elusive species.
That hope did not last long. Nearly twenty years later, Leo remains, at least on paper, at the Bronx Zoo in New York. No one in Pakistan seems sure whether he is still alive. The U.S., which once promised to send him home, has kept a studied silence.
The Pakistani officials who once pushed for his return have long since moved on.
In June 2006, he was flown to New York under an agreement between Pakistan’s Ministry of Environment, the Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS), and the U.S. Department of State. The plan was simple: the Bronx Zoo would care for Leo until Pakistan built a proper sanctuary for snow leopards. Once that was done, the zoo would send him back—at its own expense.
For years, Leo lived in the Bronx Zoo’s Himalayan Highlands exhibit, becoming part of a global effort to preserve snow leopards through captive breeding. In 2013, he sired a cub, Naltar, with a female leopard named Maya. Four years later, Naltar gave birth to two cubs, continuing Leo’s bloodline. Then, Leo disappeared from the zoo’s public records. No obituary. No statement. No answers.
Unkept promise and contrast to China
The memorandum of understanding between Pakistan and the WCS was unambiguous. Clause “b” required that the zoo “return the snow leopard cub to Pakistan” once the government requested it or when both sides agreed it was in the animal’s best interest. Clause “c” specified that the WCS would bear the costs of transporting Leo back home.
Pakistan did build a sanctuary—without WCS’s help. The Snow Leopard Foundation (SLF) established it in Naltar in 2011–2012. Yet, Leo stayed in the U.S., and the sanctuary awaited his return. No one followed up with the Americans to fulfill the contract.
The contrast with China’s treatment of its own animals could not be starker. When the U.S. panda lease expired in 2024, Washington arranged a special FedEx flight—dubbed Panda Express—to send them back to Beijing, fulfilling its commitment to the latter. The pandas went home with fanfare. Leo was forgotten.
Why did Pakistan never get Leo back? Journalist Khalid Masood Khan says the country made a [half-hearted] effort in 2015. Officials from Gilgit-Baltistan briefed then Climate Change Minister Mushahidullah Khan, urging him to raise the issue with Washington. The minister promised to do so. Nothing came of it.
Records show no follow-up letters, no formal requests, no diplomatic pressure. Wildlife experts like Dr. Uzma Khan of WWF-Pakistan insists the government may never even have invoked the MoU clause that required WCS to return the animal upon request.
“If the government never made that request,” she said, “then you can’t really accuse the U.S. of breaching the agreement.”
Muhammad Ali Nawaz, professor of conservation biology at the University of Qatar and head of the SLF, agrees. He doubts any serious attempt was made. “It was discussed in meetings,” he said, “but never translated into action.”
The Bronx Zoo, too, has been notably silent. Since Leo’s arrival, it has never issued an official statement about his death or return. It ignored repeated inquiries from Pakistani journalists, including emails from this writer. No public record exists of the zoo acknowledging Leo’s continued presence—or absence.
This silence contrasts sharply with its publicity around other animals. The zoo has regularly announced panda births, elephant retirements, and tiger conservation successes. But Leo’s story has been erased from its narrative. Whether this is bureaucratic oversight, legal caution, or quiet embarrassment remains unclear.
What the agreement required
The 2006 MoU went beyond Leo’s return. It required WCS to help Pakistan develop its own capacity to care for rescued snow leopards. The society was supposed to train Pakistani wildlife staff, design a foundling-care facility, and help raise funds for it. None of that happened.
Dr. Nawaz says the only functioning center today is the one built by his foundation, not the WCS. “We received no technical help or money from them,” he said. “They simply disappeared after taking the leopard.”
It seems neither side took the agreement seriously. The U.S. treated it as a minor goodwill gesture; Pakistan treated it as a photo opportunity. Leo, the snow leopard, became a diplomatic orphan.
Many Pakistanis have framed Leo’s story as another example of U.S. arrogance—of Washington keeping what it wants and ignoring weaker partners. That argument is tempting but incomplete. America has kept its word to powerful nations like China, returning pandas worth millions in tourism and diplomacy.
In Leo’s case, the problem lies equally with Pakistan’s passivity. It is easier to blame Washington than to confront domestic indifference. No government department pursued Leo’s case seriously. No embassy sent a diplomatic note. No parliamentarian raised the issue.
When power respects power, silence becomes complicity. Leo’s fate reflects not just U.S. neglect but also the colonial reflex of a bureaucracy that still bows before foreign institutions.
Wildlife biologist Dr. Uzma Khan calls the entire episode a “missed opportunity.” She argues that Pakistan had the expertise to care for Leo even in 2006. “The cub survived 16 months under local care before being sent abroad. That proves we were capable.”
She adds that Pakistan’s failure to establish a long-term rehabilitation program for endangered species is a symptom of official neglect. “We are a range country for snow leopards,” she said, hence “we must establish a rescue and rehabilitation facility for snow leopards to care for orphaned or rescued animals”.
Dr. Nawaz is more pragmatic. “Even if Leo were alive, bringing him back today would not help conservation,” he said. “Our facilities are inadequate, and his offspring already contribute to the species’ genetic diversity. What matters now is protecting the leopards that remain in the wild.”
Ghost of Leo
For now, Leo’s story exists only in scattered news clippings and fading memories. The Bronx Zoo has not confirmed his status. Pakistani ministries have no record of correspondence. And in the Naltar sanctuary built for his homecoming, the cages remain empty—echoes of promises never kept.
Whether Leo died in captivity or still lives behind the zoo’s stone walls, he has long ceased to be just an animal. He is a mirror of Pakistan’s institutional paralysis, where good intentions die of neglect and paperwork.
Snow leopards are among the world’s most threatened big cats. Only about 3,500 to 7,000 survive in the wild across 12 Asian countries. Pakistan’s population—estimated at 167—ranks fourth globally, after China, Mongolia, and India.
Habitat loss, hunting, and human conflict are pushing the species toward extinction. Climate change has further reduced their prey and fragmented their territories. Seeing one in the wild is almost impossible; they are ghosts of the mountains, living in silence and snow.
In captivity, snow leopards can live up to 21 years. Leo, if still alive, would be nearing the end of that range. In Pakistan, few even remember his name.
Leo’s case is not about one lost leopard. It is about a mindset that treats agreements as paperwork and wildlife as decoration. It shows how Pakistan’s institutions can summon outrage but not action, pride but not persistence.
For the U.S., Leo’s story is a footnote. For Pakistan, it should have been a lesson. Instead, it became a metaphor for how easily national dignity can be traded for convenience.
Nearly twenty years after Leo left Naltar Valley, the snow may still glisten on those mountains—but the spirit of that little cub, twice orphaned by nature and by bureaucracy, is lost to history.
Until Pakistan learns to value what it has, the leopards of its highlands will keep vanishing, one promise at a time.
Have Your Say!
Have you been affected by the issues raised in this story? Please share your experiences by emailing haveyoursay@soundvision.com.
Please include a contact number if you are willing to speak to a Muslim Network TV’s representative. You can also get in touch in the following ways:
Tweet: @MuslimNetworkTV
We must take charge of our narrative. Research indicates that 92% of their Muslim coverage is negative. Help us change that.
