When it comes to wildlife conservation, it's easy to assume a position of opposition.
Divisive points of view are boiled down into false binaries that don’t always reflect the reality on the ground. We might recognize some of these tropes, such as conservationists versus hunters, ranchers versus wolves, Indigenous rights versus regulation, and emotion versus science.
These lines are drawn too easily and held too tightly. When false binaries dominate the conversation, the real enemies like ecosystem collapse, misinformation, political inaction, and, of course, fear, slip through unchecked.
So, why is this happening, and who does it benefit? Let’s break it down.
At the heart of it all, we require many of the same things: healthy ecosystems, thriving wildlife, and a future where people and nature can coexist. So if some of our goals are so similar, why are the stakes and the tension so high?
Emotions escalate when morality and identity enter the conversation.
Our identity forms the foundation for our sense of safety as humans. Our beliefs carve out our moral judgments and become intrinsic in shaping our reality. When we encounter a conflicting worldview, our brains are programmed to recognize it as a threat to our safety. This can feel incredibly destabilizing.
To have your reality fundamentally questioned is painful on both a mental and physiological level. It’s one of the reasons we will often fight so hard to be ‘right’. To concede that our belief system is not inclusive of another’s lived reality or perspective takes a vast amount of compassion for the self and others. A ‘loss’ can be, and often is, an alarming threat to our identity if we haven’t yet developed the cognitive and physiological tools to remain present and regulated under pressure.
Tolerance of differing worldviews is a marker of cognitive adaptability and strength, but it also goes against everything we are taught in the Western world: ‘Fight for what you believe in!’
Inherently, this language fosters a combative approach, leaving little room for a differing point of view to be anything but an adversary.
Remaining curious is not passive; it is the most systematically intelligent stance we can take. True change does not happen through dominion over others or their views; it happens through presence under pressure and the facilitation of new possibilities through collaboration.
So how do we approach a constructive conversation when we are faced with a perspective that is in direct opposition to a core belief and value judgment that we hold so tightly? How do we take a step toward collaboration instead of combat?
We pause. We breathe, and we reflect on the goal. Can we find common ground?
Predators are often cast as the problem. This lens makes sense if your worldview was shaped by a cultural or familial narrative of fear that you’ve held tightly til adulthood. Moreover, it stands true if your aim is to avoid political accountability for the continued devastation of habitats. It also makes sense if your focus is on maintaining a practice, such as hunting, that provides you with culture and connection. When humans compete with apex predators for prey already fighting for survival due to habitat loss and disease, the removal of predators is a seemingly logical quick fix, and there is plenty of science to back this up if you look for it.
The counter to this argument is that we don’t have the privilege to continue the dance of quick fixes. Our ecosystems are in collapse, and all parties are suffering the consequences, thanks to a history of governance focused on industry and infrastructure. No one was playing the long game.
Ecologists have long understood that apex predators are ecosystem regulators. Wolves, grizzlies, and cougars help keep prey populations balanced in a healthy, self-regulating ecosystem. The ripple effects of their presence (or absence), known as trophic cascade, are profound and can take decades to fully understand or reverse.
However, the uncomfortable reality is that we are no longer dealing with self-regulating ecosystems due to human impact. We must address the root causes of collapse to move forward, and avoid the false economy of quick-fix tactics such as ‘Kill the wolves!’ ‘Reintroduce the wolves!’ ‘Kill the wolves!’. This flip-flop approach is frankly a bit silly at this point. With centuries of ecological cause and effect to reflect on, we should be making better choices.
Our needs are interconnected, and so must be our approach to conservation.
Ranchers depend on intact rangelands and resilient watersheds to sustain livestock. Hunters rely on healthy prey populations for sustenance, culture, and connection. Conservationists work to protect the wildlife and habitat that hold it all together. Indigenous communities have long understood that land, water, predator, and prey are all part of a relational system of responsibility, not resource extraction.
We know how to repair and prevent ecosystem collapse, and we have the means, but unfortunately, we depend on political will.
This is the common ground that our futures rely on.
Predator protection alone doesn’t ensure ecosystem health. Prey species play a crucial role, and they face mounting pressures.
Hunters, particularly those who rely on wild meat for sustenance or cultural practice, have long observed the importance of healthy prey populations. Historic overhunting, disease, and habitat loss all threaten the long-term viability of species such as ungulates. Many hunting organizations are dedicated to the conservation of prey species, which in turn allows for the continuation of their cultural practices.
In a functioning system, there is regulation. Predators remove the sick and weak, which strengthens the herd. Prey challenge predator survival, which hones their fitness and behaviour.
Conservationists and hunters alike understand this, in theory. In practice, however, management often pits the needs of one group against another; predator versus prey, conservationist versus hunter, science versus tradition, and in some cases, ‘our’ science vs ‘your’ science.
These aren’t opposing truths. They’re parts of a broader, messier picture.
Too often, science is used as a weapon instead of a tool.
One study will be used to justify predator culls, another will be held up to defend blanket bans. But real science doesn’t deal in absolutes. It evolves, it questions itself, and it works best when paired with experience, community knowledge, and transparency.
The same holds true for ethics. Not all hunters are the same. Many express frustration at being portrayed as villains in media narratives. They argue, often rightly, that they have a long history of stewardship, that ethical hunting contributes to conservation, and that rural voices deserve to be heard.
Subsistence hunting rooted in tradition is not equivalent to sport hunting for trophies. Indigenous harvests governed by natural law and reciprocity are not the same as recreational killing under relaxed provincial regulation. Yet public debates often conflate these, flattening complexity into caricature. There is no one truth. This is a false dichotomy and a dangerous one. Many truths can exist simultaneously, and it takes courage to consider the perspective of another without a lens of moral judgment.
There’s no denying that some people are not invested in the welfare of our ecosystems or the consideration of the long game, one where we get to survive as a species. This isn’t about them. It’s about opening up respectful dialogue with others willing to collaborate on common ground and blazing a trail together toward coexistence.
We start by acknowledging this: most people involved in wildlife care deeply about it. The tactics may differ and the philosophies may clash, but if the common ground is that we all want healthy, thriving ecosystems, then we have a foundation to build from.
That foundation requires trust. Trust begins when we listen to understand.
Conservation doesn’t have to be a battleground. It can be a shared table. A place where Indigenous Knowledge, Western science, lived experience, and cultural tradition are all welcomed, not in competition, but in the spirit of collaboration.
We can disagree on details without dismantling the possibility of progress. We can question policy without questioning someone's character, and we can advocate for predators without erasing the role that sustainable, ethical hunting may play in conservation.
Reform is needed. That much is clear.
In recent years, we’ve seen policy shifts that undermine public trust and ecological resilience, all with minimal consultation and limited transparency. Conservationists and organizations like EWC have raised alarm bells, not because we are anti-hunting, but because these actions undermine ecological integrity and public trust.
But change will never stick if it’s made in opposition to communities rather than in collaboration with them.
At EWC, we are advocating for policies grounded in balanced science, Indigenous leadership, and public transparency.
We need to engage hunters and trappers, not as villains, but as partners with real challenges and lived wisdom. We need to recognize that many are already conservationists at heart, advocating for habitat protection and respectful harvest.
We need to uplift Indigenous leadership, not as contributors on the sidelines but as rights-holders and knowledge-keepers. We need to work in tandem with communities, especially rural ones, whose daily efforts at coexistence are linked with survival and very real risk to safety and livelihood.
We don’t have to agree on everything, but we do have to start from a place of shared goals: sustainability, coexistence, and accountability.
It’s together that we can advocate for policy that reflects the needs of the many and not of the few.
We’re living in a time when ecosystems are changing fast. Climate disruption, habitat loss, and unchecked industrial expansion are the real threats to wildlife. Fighting each other distracts from fighting for what matters.
Conservation shouldn’t be a monologue. It has to be a conversation. The loudest voices in any debate are often the most extreme, but the reality is that most people are somewhere in the middle, willing to listen, to learn, to compromise, and to care.
Let’s stop shouting across the divide and start building the bridges we’ll need to survive together.
The future of our shared home depends on it.
