What happens when we lose language?
Somewhere between the scrolling and the striving, we have forgotten how to see and speak about the world around us. The average person now spends more than two-thirds of their waking life in front of a screen, and our vocabulary reflects it. Words that once tethered us to the natural world, like meadow, moss, brook, and falcon, have been vanishing from everyday use.
According to research, nature-related words in English texts have declined by more than 60 percent since 1800. The less we speak of wild things, the less they seem to exist in our shared imagination. Language is a mirror to our world, and what disappears from our words is at risk of disappearing too.
This erosion of ecological language parallels a broader crisis of belonging. Rising rates of anxiety, depression, and burnout are not just medical phenomena but cultural symptoms of disconnection. Humans evolved in relationship with the Earth, yet we now spend 90 percent of our time indoors, consuming an endless feed of digital content, or creating it as the case may be.
One of the most comprehensive global studies on biodiversity and economics to date is the 2024 IPBES Transformative Change Assessment. It identifies the disconnection between people and nature as a primary driver of ecological collapse and calls for a system-wide reorganization of how societies value, finance, and govern their relationship with the natural world.
More than $50 trillion of global economic activity depends directly on nature’s services, from clean water and fertile soil to pollination and climate stability; there’s no getting around it. We rely on healthy ecosystems. Yet we continue to subsidize the industries that dismantle them. In 2022, harmful public subsidies totalled up to $3.3 trillion a year, and have risen sharply ever since. To put it bluntly, our tax dollars are collectively funding the industries that are killing us.
Shifting even a fraction of public funding away from extraction and toward ecosystem protection would yield enormous social and economic returns. According to the report, “acting immediately can also unlock massive business and innovation opportunities through sustainable economic approaches, such as nature-positive economy, ecological economy and Mother-Earth centric economy. Recent estimates are that more than $10 trillion in business opportunity value could be generated and 395 million jobs could be supported globally by 2030.”
The assessment supports reconciliation, recognizing Indigenous and local knowledge as essential to any lasting solution. It argues that we cannot halt biodiversity loss without changing the stories and systems that define what we consider “progress.”
In short, the health of our economies, our cultures, and our minds is inseparable from the health of the living systems that sustain them. We must find a way to reconnect to the land and to ourselves.
How do we move from knowledge to practice? Perhaps by becoming less reliant on extractive economies and instead investing in renewable ones that support environmental protection. One tangible route is through ecotourism.
You might hear ecotourism and think of yurts and bamboo straws. Sometimes there are yurts, and you never know what the straws are made of these days, but eco tourism is not just about travel. Consider it an act of participation that teaches us the vocabulary of the wild again. It’s about experience designed to strengthen the bond between people and the places that sustain them.
Defined by the UN World Tourism Organization, ecotourism means travelling in a way that protects the environment, supports local well-being, and builds awareness of the natural and cultural heritage of a place.
Responsible ecotourism incentivizes communities to protect what makes them unique, linking livelihoods to the health of local ecosystems. Unlike mass tourism, which can extract more than it gives, well-run ecotourism keeps money circulating locally and supports conservation work grounded in respect and reciprocity.
Sustainable economy scales. Costa Rica is a world leader in sustainable development and an excellent case study. With conservation being a cornerstone of Costa Rica’s economy and ecotourism contributing roughly 8 percent of Costa Rica’s GDP, this poster child for ecotourism demonstrates vision, accountability, and the political courage to prioritize long-term well-being over short-term profit.
In Canada, ecotourism ventures are proving successful and leading the way for others to follow. Businesses such as karibu adventures “subscribe to partnering with indigenous and local communities in the spirit of true reconciliation and economic inclusion.” The ecotourism company operates on a set of sound principles that prioritize connection with minimal ecological impact, whilst still providing a once-in-a-lifetime wildlife experience. Andrea Mandel-Campbell founded the company to “make a positive impact in the lives of our guests and the people and places we visit. Wherever possible, we look to support charities, social enterprises and nature and people-positive businesses that share our vision and values. We do that either by engaging them as partners in our adventures, working with suppliers who actively support conservation and community development, or by donating trips to help with fundraising efforts for important causes.”
Globally, eco-tourists spend 10-25 percent more per trip than conventional travellers and stay longer in communities, supporting small, locally owned businesses.
In Canada, tourism already contributes roughly $50 billion to the national economy and accounts for 1.8 percent of GDP. Within that, the Indigenous tourism sector alone generates an estimated $3.7 billion annually. Redirecting even a small percentage of fossil-fuel subsidies toward ecotourism infrastructure, training, and conservation could transform rural economies while protecting biodiversity.
When extractive industry shuts down and leaves, rural economies are often decimated. Communities like Cadomin in Alberta make a great case for ecotourism. But it’s not just a pragmatic replacement for mining or fossil fuels. Ecotourism also offers a respite for wildlife as a lucrative replacement for trophy hunting and outfitters.
The evidence is already visible. In BC’s Great Bear Rainforest, a study by CREST and Stanford University found that bear-viewing tourism generated 12 times more revenue than trophy hunting, supporting 510 jobs compared to just 11 from hunting. Protecting one bear creates a renewable source of income for a community. A single living bear can support guides and lodges for years while also encouraging investment in habitat protection and coexistence tools; a dead one cannot.
Global research echoes this pattern. Protected areas that pair conservation with community participation consistently show stronger local economies and healthier ecosystems. The data shows that when education, infrastructure, and governance align, both nature and people thrive.
Eco tourism channels spending toward guides, food producers, artists, and small operators who care for place because they live there. It diversifies rural incomes, creates year-round roles in education and stewardship, and builds skills that strengthen communities beyond a single season.
Across Canada, Indigenous led tourism is redefining what responsible travel looks like. Demonstrating how conservation, culture, and commerce can align, these experiences invite visitors into relationship with place through story, stewardship, and sovereignty, reinforcing the understanding that healthy lands and waters are the foundation of healthy communities. Proud member of the Otipemisiwak Métis Nation and owner of The Jasper Tour Company, Joe Urie, shares, “I want people to come away understanding that nature’s not just a place that we visit. It’s where we live.”
Partnerships with the Indigenous Tourism Association of Canada (ITAC) and Parks Canada are helping more communities tell their stories on their own terms. One shining example is the Kitasoo/Xai’xais Nation’s Spirit Bear Lodge in Klemtu, BC. A world-renowned model of conservation-based tourism employing local residents year-round, funding habitat restoration, and offering visitors an experience rooted in both ecological and cultural connection.
In Saskatchewan, Wanuskewin Heritage Park is rewilding the prairies with bison, reviving both ecological balance and ancestral ties. Across BC and Alberta, Indigenous-led wildlife tours are shifting perceptions of wolves, grizzlies, and cougars from feared competitors to vital parts of a shared landscape. These models show that when Nations and local communities manage their own natural capital, conservation becomes a source of identity, education, and enduring economic strength.
A 2024 study found that 82 percent of Canadians are interested in ecotourism. That’s huge. But as interest in sustainable travel grows, it raises an important question: how do we make sure tourism supports the ecosystems it depends on, including the predators that keep those systems alive?
Like all good systems, ecotourism requires boundaries. Overcrowding in high-traffic parks like Banff shows how unmanaged visitation can damage fragile habitats if visitor limits and education aren’t in place. The Global Sustainable Tourism Council (GSTC) and Canada’s own Destination Development Strategy are helping raise standards with transparent reporting to help prevent greenwashing and maintain trust, but stronger frameworks are needed to ensure that growth does not compromise integrity.
Ecotourism thrives when regulation, community ownership, and long-term planning work together. And while “greenwashing” remains a concern, real progress demands more than branding. It requires accountability, partnership, and long-term thinking… qualities we don’t often see reflected in short-term political cycles.
Reconnection to nature is not just emotional; it’s economic, political, and cultural. The IPBES assessment calls for societies to transform values and goals, to measure success not by extraction but by regeneration. Ecotourism embodies that shift, allowing communities to make a livelihood from curiosity and care.
The pragmatism of a renewable economy and the true value of conservation are well documented, plus there are plenty of real-world success stories to learn from. Costa Rica has shown that it works. Communities across BC are proving that it works. If Canada chooses to invest in living systems instead of depleting them, we could realistically build an economy that heals as it grows. A growing body of research shows that time in nature reduces stress, improves concentration, and restores a sense of meaning and belonging. It is no surprise that the ecotourism sector continues to grow.
As more people look inward, seeking connection with the landscapes, wildlife, and communities that make this country what it is, we could embrace this opportunity to build an economy that works for all of us by supporting community-based ecotourism, reinvesting revenues locally, and shifting subsidies away from extraction toward conservation. Now is the time for us to act locally. Your voice matters.
As our resident Communications and Outreach Director, Sam brings a diverse range of experience and skills. From nature-based therapy and education, to brand strategy and research, her passion for science, creativity and storytelling has allowed Sam to work internationally on both grassroots projects and global campaigns. As a lover of wildlife and wild spaces, Sam has dedicated the past five years to working with conservation non-profits and education organizations across rural BC to inspire advocacy for the Canadian wild.
