Remaining optimistic about the future of the natural world is tough as a conservationist. But there is a strong argument for hope, says Helen Meredith, Executive Director of the Amphibian Survival Alliance.
Searching for hope
I recently attended a local Climate Strike with my two year old son perched on my shoulders. I took him to show our solidarity with everyone seeking action on this issue, but particularly the children protesting their right to a beautiful and hopeful future. My son plays a lot with some hand-me-down plastic animal figures. His favourites are the turtles, big cats, primates, bears, sharks and a few wide-mouthed grinning frogs.
I often find myself worrying that some of the species they represent may not be around when he is an adult; that he could someday inhabit a world where much biodiversity is represented only by these artificial traces of the majesty that once existed. At times like this I feel a quiet despair. Often quiet because of the job I do, which requires sharing optimistic messages about conservation and building a positive, engaged alliance that can rise to the challenges we face in protecting species and habitats. What use is a sad conservationist? Like a sad clown, no one wants you at their party. Plus I have worked through many narratives over the years, and the ones that involved spreading nihilistic warnings about the horror show future of this planet just depressed everyone, not least myself.
A changing tide
And then an odd thing happened. I started feeling hopeful again. At one time I looked around at the dedicated few who fight for the natural world, and thought “this isn’t enough, why don’t more people care?” – now I feel impressed by the strength and tenacity of the colleagues I have, and am always happy to meet new, passionate conservationists that join the cause every day. Hopeful narratives are essential in welcoming people to this cause from all backgrounds. I remember meeting jaded and frustrated conservationists when I wanted nothing more than to be a conservationist myself. People who told me not to bother, and to find something to do with my life that I might actually enjoy.
Contrary to their warnings, I find myself enjoying my involvement in conservation, now more than ever. Sometimes it is the slow change in public perception of environmental issues that gives me hope, sometimes the examples of striking action. Or when a friend who used to call me a monkey-loving hippy tells me about some new recycling scheme they have embraced or shames me about my carbon footprint. In the twenty years that have flown past since an ex-pat conservationist in Indonesia told me to find something else to do with my life, the world has turned and changed dramatically. And some of this change has shed a vital light on environmental causes like never before.
Fighting for amphibians
