Dear conservationist, you shouldn’t have to be so resilient. The industry should be looking after you.

Dear conservationist,

Back in 2020, I conducted a still-unpublished narrative analysis of 70 articles written by Lonely Conservationists, to identify: (1) the factors inspiring and sustaining conservationists’ professional ambitions, (2) the challenges discouraging conservationists from continuing in the field, and (3) the emotional language conservationists used to make sense of their professional realities.

This paper, though existing in a completed manuscript form, has been floating in the abyss for 4 years now. Among other reasons, it turns out that it’s challenging to produce science that is freely accessible for others to read when you aren’t supported by an educational institution. Regardless, I often think back to it from time to time. I still have a vivid memory of looking at the results of this study and feeling my heart drop into the pit of my stomach to learn that after plants and animals, the most inspiring factor that blog authors detailed about their conservation journey was their own resilience. Cue harrowing music.

But Jessie!, you all chorus. Why is our resilience a harrowing motivator for our careers?

Isn’t resilience a good thing?

A study by Renata Bongiorno et al. was sent to me recently about the impact of personal resilience messaging in the neo-liberal feminism movement. Okay, okay- but hear me out. The study talks about how putting the onus on women to be more resilient, advance their careers, and take action towards gender equality, actually reduces the motivation of women to protest and lowers their anger towards gender discrimination. Why is this, you may ask? Well, telling women they need to be more resilient perpetrates the message that it’s their fault that they are facing inequalities rather than acknowledging that it is the systems suppressing them that need to change.

On hearing this, you can probably now understand why I was so saddened by my study’s results. If we, as a community, are motivated by our own resilience, then we most likely believe that the challenges that we face in the conservation industry are experienced due to our own shortcomings, rather than expecting the industry to look after us as valued contributors.

Have you ever internalised the notion that your experiences in the conservation industry would improve if you were just a little more skilled, knowledgeable, or more resilient? I know I have. In Jax’s last blog, she talks about experiencing male staff who were blatantly disrespecting her authority as a manager. She said:

I have had some “bad managers” myself, so the first thing you’re probably thinking is “What did you do wrong?” and that was my first thought too.

No Jax! My first thought was not to immediately assume your shortcomings! Without the support and structures of a healthy workplace culture, Jax left her management position and the person who pushed her to breaking point replaced her as the manager. My questions here are instead to Jax’s organisation.

Where was the supporting authority who could back Jax up on her management decisions?

Where was the support for Jax when she was struggling?

Why did Jax feel she had no alternative option but to abandon her position as manager and leave the company?

The notion that Jax needs to build her resilience does absolutely nothing to improve the conservation sector as a whole. In fact, we lose many incredible conservationists to the industry because they believe that they personally weren’t cut out for a career in conservation. In these assumptions, we rarely assume that there should be systems in place that should have done more to facilitate a successful career pathway.

Some conservationists’ stories live rent-free in my head, such as Lisa’s story. She was a young, eager individual who was excited to have just signed on to her dream wildlife conservation job, only to end up cleaning toilets in a toxic work environment. No amount of conservation-based training would have improved Lisa’s chances of success in that role and her leaving was not a reflection of her lack of resilience, it was a reflection of the horrible workplace culture.

Gillian’s story of suffering hypothermia from collecting a trail camera in dangerous weather conditions also sticks with me. This blog sparked an interesting conversation about how we often brag about our life-threatening experiences to others, and how the conservation industry can’t improve if we all wear these survival stories as badges of honour. Even though our commentary about these experiences may be light-hearted and positive, our stories of resilience still don’t encourage industry-wide changes and may inspire others to engage in dangerous behaviour for credibility.

Then there is Josh’s more recent story that talks about how he is now leaving the conservation industry as the challenges he has faced have compounded to a point where they are no longer feasible for him to endure. To be honest, most of us in the industry have endured challenges beyond a reasonably tolerable threshold. We keep overcoming challenges again and again, expecting that we will need to show fierce resilience if we want to succeed, but we all have our limits. Embarking on a conservation career should not be synonamous with signing up to an infinite hurdles race where your legs get sorer and the hurdles get higher with every meter that passes.

Let’s break for a moment to do a visioning exercise.

I’d like you to imagine a world where pathways into the conservation industry are clearly laid out for people coming into it from both academic and non-academic backgrounds. In this world, individuals are paid highly for their robust skills and knowledge and are paid more if they happen to be working in challenging environments that have been properly risk-assessed. Field workers don’t have to leave the field to see pay increases and desk workers get incentivised to take community-based or protest-based action as a part of their roles. In this world, all conservation sectors are governed by unions that advocate for conservation employees, but due to failure-based conferences and an ethos of collaboration in the industry, NGOs and businesses uphold incredible cultural standards as they are always learning from each other. Due to the close-knit and collaborative nature of the industry, funding and resources are more abundant as they are shared amongst organisations working towards similar goals. There are enough people working towards projects that individuals are able to maintain a healthy work-life balance. Because of the healthy salaries and progressive work cultures, the conservation industry is now home to a diversity of people from all walks of life, cultural and financial backgrounds, and with different knowledge, skillsets and abilities.

This is the world that I want for conservationists and, personally, I don’t think you need to be more resilient. If anything, conservationist resilience is bordering on invincible as it is. Instead of feeling burdened to “be better” as was written in big blue letters on the wall of my first research job, I would love you to spend that energy advocating for your own health, well-being, and safety. By leading by example with your convictions, values, and boundaries, you will, in turn, be advocating for and creating safety for others around you.

If this vision of a more collaborative and inclusive conservation industry feels impossible to you, we must remember that it is equally outlandish to believe that all the exploitation, harassment, and bullying you may have faced – that is so widespread in the industry, is somehow our fault. We also can’t forget the strides that we have already made towards this future, even with our own personal actions. By advocating for ourselves and each other and by being collaborative and sharing stories and knowledge, we are already stepping closer towards a better future for the industry. Sometimes I find myself able to help people in a way I was never helped in my early career and it’s enough to make me feel like we have more power to bring life to this vision than we think we do. I know the neo-liberal feminism study said that focusing on personal actions is not motivating in times where widespread systems change is needed, but for me at least, it helps to feel like I am making a small impact where it is in my power to do so.

That first job with the big blue letters no longer exists because of how corrupt of an organisation it was. No amount of my personal resilience could have made the conservation outcomes more impactful or their processes more legitimate. I am just here to remind you that the industry needs to change in a million different ways- but you, well, you are perfect exactly as you are.

Be kind to yourself you resilient human,

Jessie