Thoughts from The Amazon: despair or hope for conservation?

By Laura Coomber

Image of author by Hannah Woolhouse

“Despair” is defined as the absence of hope. This absence is increasingly prevalent in the conservation world. I returned from my 10-month stint in the jungle exhausted, not physically, but mentally. When you go to the world’s remaining wild places, you are likely to be struck both by their beauty and by their continual decline. 

Waking up in the rainforest with the sunrise, you are surrounded by a cacophony of sound. Giant scarlet macaws squawk as they fly overhead. There is a chattering and chirping from the trees which is composed of dozens of bird species, all with their own unique language. You might hear the low rumble of the howler monkeys, one of nature’s loudest animals. All of this happens as you sip your morning coffee. It’s a special kind of bliss. 

There are other sounds though. There is a booming sound vibrating the earth: gold mining is decimating all in its path. There is a low and continual humming, occasionally followed by a crash that echoes throughout the forest. A “moo” in the distance signifies that rainforest has become farm. The sounds are not the only thing. There’s a smell in the air too. In the summer months there are endless columns of smoke rising up. 

Sit for 30 minutes on the edge of the interoceanic highway, a road which stretches coast-to-coast across South America straight through both Brazilian and Peruvian Amazon and it all becomes clear. It was meant to be a hub for economic activity, yet the only thing you see on it is lorries carrying freshly cut trees stacked high. Some parts of the road have been washed away by the water used for gold mining. On either side lush trees have been removed to create an expanse of mud. 

Famous ecologist Aldo Leopold once said that “One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen” (Leopold, 1949). The overwhelming response to this kind of ecological awareness is often despair. Scholars have noted the existence of a “culture of despair” in the conservation community (Swaisgood & Sheppard, 2010), but this is something I think we can broaden out to anyone who works in the “saving the world” business. 

There are consequences to this culture of despair. As research in the psychology of conservation points out, hopelessness creates the feeling of helplessness (Clayton & Myers, 2011). No hope implies there’s nothing that can be done, so why bother doing anything at all? 

What then, is the solution? Despair drives inaction, but what is there instead? Interestingly, there’s a whole field of research discussing types of hope and their utility. “Naïve hope”, without fact or reason, is like blind faith. We don’t want to be naïve either; optimism without evidence is delusion. Then there’s “hokey hope” which is the belief that people just have to work harder and all their problems will fade away (Grain, 2017). This also doesn’t quite cut it. 

Then there is the middle ground. Paulo Freire, a 19th century Brazilian philosopher, proposed “critical hope” (Freire, 1994). Someone who is critically hopeful is able both to analyse the world around them and continue to imagine and work towards a better future. We have to be able both to see the world for what it is and imagine what it could be. This way of thinking has implications. Research shows that those who are hopeful are more likely to have “pathway thinking” which allows them to be creative in problem solving (Clayton & Myers, 2011). Critical hope then seems, to me, to be the most useful. 

It’s also probably the most challenging. Can we read the news of environmental destruction everyday while also holding space within ourselves to dream of a better future? It’s not an easy task. 

Hope is something that has to be cultivated, it’s a daily practice. 

Sitting in my city apartment I have a very different kind of soundtrack to that of the jungle. As I read reports of misery from the Amazon while reminiscing over the sounds of howler monkeys, I have to remind myself to stay hopeful. Hope is a choice and one I make daily. 

References 

1. Leopold A, Schwartz CW. A Sand County Almanac, and Sketches Here and There. New York: Oxford Univ. Press.; 1949.

2. Swaisgood RR, Sheppard JK. The Culture of Conservation Biologists: Show Me the Hope! 2010;60(8). doi:10.1525/bio.2010.60.8.8

3. Clayton S, Myers G. Conservation Psychology: Understanding and Promoting Human Care for Nature | Wiley. Wiley-Blackwell; 2011. 

4. Grain KM. The Social Justice Turn: Cultivating “Critical Hope” in an Age of Despair. Michigan J Community Serv Learn. 2017;23(1). doi:10.3998/mjcsloa.3239521.0023.104

5. Freire P. Pedagogy of Hope: Reliving Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum. New York: Continuum.; 1994.