Times Square on any day is a sensory overload. The whirlwind of billboards and larger-than-life advertisements, the cacophony of car horns and street hawkers, the sea of Elmos and Buzz Lightyears and frenzied tourists -- I thought I had seen and heard it all.
But there was one spectacle I had not beheld in the storied junction of Broadway and Seventh Avenue until Friday, the 19th of June: that of a 25-ton crushing machine grinding one ton of seized elephant ivory to a pulp.
Does the method sound medieval? Perhaps slightly. But it was in fact part of an incredible effort by wildlife advocates, lawmakers, and celebrities to demonstrate that the illegal ivory trade cannot continue.
The event, dubbed the Times Square Ivory Crush, began with a series of speeches featuring environmental activists such as U.S. Secretary of the Interior Sally Jewell and Executive Vice President of the Wildlife Conservation Society John Calvelli. They spoke of the grim reality elephants face due to the demand for their tusks. This ivory is used to make piano keys, chopsticks, and all manner of other trinkets.
The message of the event was clear: ivory, its sale, and the market for it must be crushed, beginning with this most literal of steps. Destroying confiscated ivory ensures that it will never end up on the black market again.
Further, the event served as a memorial to honor the memory of Africa's fallen elephants - nearly 100 of them were represented by the crushed ivory.
Though the somber statistics were painful to hear, a tangible invigoration came over the crowd as the machine - "Trakpactor 260" was printed on one side, a name that I think captures the monstrous, Transformers-esque nature of the beast quite aptly - roared to life.
Cheers erupted as the first piece of confiscated ivory - an intricately carved tusk - inched its way up the conveyor belt, teetered a moment at the peak, and tumbled into the Trakpactor's hungrily awaiting belly. Moments later, it emerged as a sand-like powder, spewing forth into a receptacle situated in the bed of a New York State Environmental Conservation Police pickup truck.
The process continued on - ivory sculptures, figurines, and ornaments were fed one by one onto the conveyor belt in a pageant that was at once grotesque and exhilarating. They ascended to their fate inside the machine's pulverizing jaw, and the resultant finely ground dust cascaded out of the other end.
It was difficult to miss the elaborate detailing on the ivory pieces as they marched dolefully to their fate like calves to the slaughter. From an artistic perspective, I couldn't help but wince slightly at the all-too-apparent hours of labor that had gone into their production, at the thought of how something so arduously created could be so easily destroyed.
Sandcastles are smothered by a single step. Lego kingdoms on living room floors are ravished by dusters or vacuum cleaners astray. Buildings that take years to erect are hastily demolished by the unapologetic force of a wrecking ball.
An elephant - with all the wisdom, compassion, and magnificence inherent to these creatures - is killed by a poacher with no mercy, by a greed with no end.
A dead elephant is not an artistic material. Its life is not ours for the taking. Of this I reminded myself to ward off any potential remorse for the ample time and effort that the Trakpactor so swiftly reduced to dust.
Though the crush was clearly, as the name might suggest, a destruction of sorts, it was ultimately more significant for what it created. It created a message and a space in which to broadcast that message loud and clear to the world. Ivory trafficking will not be tolerated. The demand must be curbed. The survival of some of our planet's most majestic beings is at stake.