The conservation career trap
The dream of what it's like to work in conservation is a lie. Let's talk about it.
There is a prickle on the back of my neck and a weight in my stomach as I write these words, because for some I may be shattering a beautiful illusion. It was a vision I was also sold and worked towards for years - only to be left burnt out, with crushed self-confidence and a disillusionment with the entire environmental field. And I’d like to talk about why.
An easy sell
Growing up on Sir David Attenborough’s documentaries and having an earnest fascination with all natural life around me, I was an easy target for the conservation sell. Working outside in exotic locations, interacting with charismatic creatures, changing the world for the better all while being paid to model Ellie Sattler’s enthusiasm for animal poo in Jurassic Park you say? Yes please and thank you, sign me up!
So after years of degrees, rejection, debt, unpaid volunteering (and crappy jobs to fund said unpaid volunteering)…and more degrees, rejection and debt, and one rather unusual stint scooping up alpaca poo later (a story for another day guys), I finally found myself starting my first ‘real’ conservation job in my mid-twenties. On paper it was my dream job – working alongside eight leading conservation organisations as part of a five-hundred strong conservation hub of research, policy and practice, and getting to support work that would restore huge swathes of land back to nature.
Six months ago I left that same organisation after four years of working my socks off and plenty of praise at the job I was doing, and my feelings about the sector could not be more different. I realise now that alongside facing a very real loss over these few months – the passing of my beautiful Nan – I’ve also been grieving the fantasy of conservation that never materialised, for myself or almost anyone around me.
This was a difficult enough process on its own; to acknowledge the shame and confusion I felt at walking away from a sector that posited to change all of the things I still care most deeply about - people having equitable access to nature, undoing some of the worst damages we’ve brought to pass so that wildlife and people can have space to thrive, and securing a positive, hopeful future for generations to come.
“I’ve been grieving the vision of working in conservation that never materialised, for myself or almost anyone around me.”
Fifty shades of shame
As I muddled my way through all the stages of denial, anger, bargaining and depression, my brain got pretty creative at finding ways to turn my feelings against me:
“Everyone else is still carrying on and fighting the good fight – the sector needed you to keep going. You gave up because you couldn’t hack it and they could.”
“Who do you think you are, to think that you should been paid more/got that promotion/been listened to?”
“Don’t take a stand on this – you won’t be able to handle the criticism of people telling you that you got it wrong. You’re not strong enough.”
The thing about shame is that it is created in dark places, and it thrives in the shadows where no-one talks about it. At one point I actually tried to find experiences of people in a similar position, and only managed to find one article about the depressing reality of trying to break into the sector – and even then it said that many “young conservationists declined to comment out of fear that their candidness would affect their job hunt”.
“The thing about shame is that it is created in dark places, and thrives in the shadows where no-one talks about it.”
The secrets we keep in conservation
Though I tried to tell myself that I couldn’t speak out about the problems of conservation because I wasn’t enough of an ‘expert’ on it, the mountain of evidence was right there in front of me. Countless conversations with friends and peers who also worked in the sector, who I watched being passed over for promotions, guilted into working evenings and weekends to meet unrealistic project deadlines, and applying for grants just to keep their own jobs. Distressing stories of discrimination, assault and bullying - in outdoor spaces as well as in the office.
I watched, powerless, as changes in leadership rotted my own once well-run and motivated team to their core, as ego took precedence over integrity. I listened to empty statements about addressing diversity issues in the sector, and the next day saw the same organisation advertise full-time positions for £18k with a straight face. I witnessed the weary faces of people doing their best to carry the weight of problems far bigger than they could ever solve, and the absence of meaningful support from the organisations that benefitted from their conscientiousness.
With time I came to recognise the shame for what it was, and that in reality I was not the problem. I realised that I was never broken and neither were my peers - the conservation industry was. And that if we are not careful we will continue to break all the people inside it too. As we are all too aware, this is a not a problem unique to conservation, or even just the not-for-profit sector.
“I realised that I was never broken and neither were my peers - the conservation industry was. And that if we are not careful we will continue to break all the people inside it too.”
‘Burnout’ seems to be the buzz word of the time, and we often associate it with workload and the number of hours we work. This misconception was all part of my laugh-a-minute shame cycle; as conservation jobs go, mine was pretty cushy. I was employed by a university so my salary was comparably higher then most equivalent jobs in conservation, and I didn’t work insane hours. So what right did I have to bow out?
But the thing is that burnout is just as likely to happen when you’re having to go against your values every day, when you attach too much of your identity to your job (and therefore risk seeing your ‘success’ in your job as a direct reflection of your worth), as well as being continually gaslighted by a rhetoric within the sector (that just. won’t. die) and reminds you at any opportunity that despite all these problems:
“Hey - just be grateful you have this job, because there’s a queue of people out there who want it more.”
So why are we so surprised that people end up burned out, cynical and self-flagellating - or leaving the sector altogether*?
*don’t get me started on the judgement within the sector of ‘selling out’ - or maybe do, but another day.
Hey, every party needs a pooper guys
I would love to be able to offer a simple answer to these terribly complex and intersectional problems, but I genuinely think the first step is to talk about it (while recognising that some people are afforded more power, privilege and platforms than others to safely do so). To speak out against how the conservation field operates feels like a huge taboo, and yet I know for many who work in the sector the reasons I have listed above will be all too familiar. I know that for some their experience of working in conservation is a positive one - and that’s great, but that doesn’t take away the negative issues that affect the majority.
My purpose here is to start a conversation, although it’s one that’s already happening behind closed doors. I could have written so much more about the issues that people working in conservation face, and probably will do just that. The shame and shadows that underlie these problems will only ever have a chance of being resolved if we bring them into the light and look at them for what they are. We need to have messy, brave, uncomfortable conversations with each other if things are going to improve - and desperately need to see better leadership on it.
I want to believe that things can get better - I loved the people I worked with and I wouldn’t rule out going back into conservation. But I could not in good faith encourage anyone to work in the sector as it is right now, and the lie of the conservation dream can only live on as long as we continue to play our roles in upholding it.
The shame and shadows that underlie these problems will only ever have a chance of being resolved if we bring them into the light and look at them for what they are.
I’m sure that some people may read this and find it irresponsible that I’m ‘putting people off’ working in environmental conservation when there has never been a more urgent need to work towards a sustainable future. But exploiting people is part of the very problem that created all of the environmental and social woes the sector says it is trying to solve.
We need to act quickly and decisively on securing a sustainable future - but taking care of the people who are working make that happen has to be part of this. It’s what we owe to the planet, and the people who in spite of facing so many barriers continue to do their best to save it.