Crimes of passion: the illegal online trade in succulents

By Martin LaSalle Apr 24th, 2026

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In 5 seconds Plant enthusiasts in Quebec are illegally importing water-storing plants like Pachypodium and Haworthia from abroad—sometimes fully cognizant they are breaking the law.

Online platforms play a facilitating role in the trade of succulent plants: they do not require sellers to display their permits or the conservation status of the species they offer. Participants rely on reviews from other buyers to gauge a seller’s reliability, using this mechanism as a substitute for any verification of legality.
Photo : Getty

For years, Quebecers have illegally imported succulents, plants such as pachypodium and haworthia that store water (in Latin, succus means juice or sap). They buy the plants on eBay or Etsy from sellers in Europe and the U.S., drawn by prices that can be a tenth of the cost of buying locally and by the chance of acquiring varieties unavailable here.

Often, the buyers flout the law, which requires they have multiple permits: one from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency to import a plant, plus a phytosanitary certificate from the exporting country and, to import a protected species, an authorization under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora.

Léanne Vincendon investigated the problem as part of her master’s thesis for Université de Montréal’s School of Criminology. Supervised by professors Masarah Paquet-Clouston and David Décary-Hétu, she produced one of the first qualitative studies of consumers involved in the illegal trade in succulents.

The study was published last month in the journal People and Nature. Vincendon is now pursuing a Ph.D. in geography at UdeM focusing on the international trade in endangered species.

Fourteen enthusiasts and a paradox

For her study, Vincendon recruited 14 people living in Quebec who had illegally imported at least one succulent plant online.

As a plant lover herself, she was able to find her subjects through her network of fellow enthusiasts and specialty Facebook groups, and then through so-called snowball sampling—asking the initial participants to recommend others they knew, a good way to reach hard-to-find people. She then conducted semi-structured interviews.

The participants’ profiles showed a paradox: eight of the 14 were trained in horticulture, biology or environmental sciences, yet these well-informed collectors imported plants without the required documentation—and with few exceptions, they did it knowingly.

“These are people who condemn poaching and illegal collection in the wild,” Vincendon noted. “But they decided to import anyway.”

The imports ran the gamut of succulent varieties, including Apocynaceae (e.g. Pachypodium), Asphodelaceae (e.g. Haworthia), Cactaceae (e.g. Astrophytum), Crassulaceae (e.g. Echeveria), Euphorbiaceae (e.g. Euphorbes) and Menispermaceae (e.g. Stephania).

Léanne Vincendon
Photo : Léanne Vincendon

Easing their guilt

Vincendon's study draws on American sociologists Gresham Sykes' and David Matza’s theory of neutralization, which suggests people use cognitive strategies to ease their guilt when doing something that goes against their values. For example, some of the participants criticized current regulations as too complex or poorly enforced.

“Some did try to obtain the required permits, but grew frustrated after navigating the government websites, finding the right form, submitting it by email and never receiving a reply,” Vincendon said. “Eventually, they gave up.”

Others blamed the sellers or downplayed the environmental consequences, failing to recognize nature as a legitimate victim.

However, Vincendon found that these buyers demonstrated a genuine attachment to their plants, providing them with careful lighting, appropriate nutrients and no pesticides.

“But their care was concentrated on the individual specimen, with no regard for the ecosystems from which these species are sometimes torn,” she noted. In science, this is referred to as the “value-action gap”: the disconnect between what we say we believe and what we actually do.

A digital marketplace of impunity

According to Vincendon, online platforms play a decisive role in facilitating the trade. They don’t require sellers to display their permits or the conservation status of the species they are selling.

The participants relied on other buyers’ reviews to gauge a seller’s reliability, without ever checking the legality of their operation. “I can see it in the photos (and) he has good reviews on eBay,” said one.

To get their product through Canada customs, the sellers ship plants in the smallest possible packages or under false identities. “In the rare reported cases of seizures, there was no further penalty,” Vincendon said.

“This reinforces the perception that this is a virtually risk-free trade. Many buyers admitted they had never asked the suppliers about the plants’ actual origin.”

Masarah Paquet-Clouston, professeure à l'École de criminologie de l'Université de Montréal
Photo : Masarah Paquet-Clouston

David Décary-Hétu, professeur à l'École de criminologie de l'Université de Montréal
Photo : Amélie Philibert, Université de Montréal

Action needed on multiple fronts

Vincendon and her co-authors suggest several strategies to combat this illicit trade.

On the economic front, consolidating import channels would make it possible to share the cost of permits and make the legal market more affordable.

On the digital front, the platforms could require sellers to provide legal documentation and buyers to provide valid import permits. Targeted awareness campaigns using visual guides and short videos shared directly in online communities could clarify the rules and raise awareness of the ecological impacts.

“Finally, we must dismantle the mechanisms of neutralization by reminding consumers of their individual responsibility and explaining, with supporting data, why it isn’t true that if everyone does it, it’s OK,” Vincendon concluded.

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