For decades, conservationists have attempted to save the natural world by assigning it economic value. The idea was simple: if forests, reefs, and wildlife could be priced, they would be protected by market forces. Richard Branson, Jane Goodall, and Edward Norton once stood on stage together in 2012, championing this approach as the only sensible path forward. However, the strategy largely failed, leaving biologists and environmental scientists to question whether a fundamentally flawed premise ever had a chance.
The Rise of Ecosystem Services
The concept of “ecosystem services” emerged in the late 1990s, gaining traction as a way to translate the benefits of nature – clean water, carbon sequestration, recreation, and more – into quantifiable monetary terms. A 1997 study famously estimated the total value of global ecosystems at $33 trillion, exceeding the world’s economic output at the time. This figure captured attention, but it did little to shift real-world decisions.
The logic was straightforward: decision-makers, historically indifferent to nature’s value, would respond to economic incentives. By speaking the language of business and finance, conservationists hoped to tip the scales in favor of preservation. This coincided with the rise of neoliberalism, an ideology that embraced market-driven solutions across society. Biologists played along, believing that reframing their work in economic terms was the only way to resonate with those in power.
The Doubts Within
Despite the widespread adoption of ecosystem services, many scientists harbored serious reservations. The idea of reducing the living world to dollar signs felt unsettling, even cynical. One biologist joked that ecosystem services had become more popular than Michael Jackson in academic citations – a hollow victory for a fundamentally compromised approach. The core issue was that even with precise valuations, the underlying power dynamics remained unchanged.
Why It Didn’t Work
The failure of ecosystem services isn’t due to a lack of data or flawed calculations; it’s rooted in the fundamental imbalance of power. Whether a mangrove forest is preserved or demolished has less to do with economic logic and more to do with who benefits from the decision. A rigorous analysis might demonstrate that keeping mangroves intact is mathematically superior, but if powerful interests stand to profit from their destruction, the outcome is predetermined.
The approach also lacked a deep understanding of the political economy driving environmental degradation. While ecosystem services attempted to optimize within existing structures, they ignored the systemic forces that prioritize short-term profits over long-term sustainability. Conservationists failed to challenge those in power, instead hoping to persuade them with rational arguments. The result: wildlife populations continued to plummet, and conservation targets went unmet for the second consecutive decade.
The Shift Towards Biodiversity Justice
Increasingly, biologists are recognizing the need for a more radical approach. Rather than appealing to those in power, they’re building alliances with social movements, Indigenous communities, and other groups fighting for systemic change. This “biodiversity justice” framework acknowledges that conservation isn’t just about saving species; it’s about challenging the structures that drive environmental destruction.
The example of British Columbia illustrates this shift. Environmental groups abandoned ecosystem services in favor of a “climate justice” framing, partnering with First Nations to fight energy infrastructure projects. This strategy proved more effective than lobbying or scientific reports, successfully fending off proposed pipelines despite ongoing battles.
The Path Forward
The failure of ecosystem services underscores the need for a more pragmatic and transformative approach. Biologists must embrace alternative ideas, align their work with broader social struggles, and recognize that conservation is fundamentally a political project. There’s potential to leverage existing expertise, including ecosystem services, but only if it’s integrated into a larger framework of justice and resistance.
The question isn’t whether nature has value – it does, intrinsically – but how to defend it in a world dominated by power imbalances. The answer lies not in appealing to those who exploit the environment but in building alliances strong enough to force them to change.
The future of conservation depends on recognizing that the price of nature isn’t a monetary figure, but a relentless fight for justice.
