This is the pre-edited version of Earth Day is for the planet. What about the people protecting it?, which was published today on Nonprofit Quarterly.
Every Earth Day, we are urged to care more deeply about the planet—to pay closer attention, to look more carefully, to resist indifference.
For many, that is a one-day appeal. For conservationists, rangers, field scientists and frontline practitioners, it is the job. Yet that work can take a psychological toll that few institutions are willing to acknowledge.
That should give us pause. A movement built around protecting life has become accustomed to asking its own people to absorb loss without enough support, stability or care.
Conservationists are trained to notice what others miss: a reef drained of color, a forest gone quiet. They count animals, patrol protected areas, document cultures, and watch places they love shift in ways that are measurable and often irreversible.
This is often described as burnout. Sometimes it is. But a more precise term may be moral injury: the distress of witnessing harm, caring deeply, and still being unable to stop much of it. In conservation, it stems not from apathy, but from commitment.
The structure of the work adds to the strain.
Conservation is often framed as a calling. That language can inspire, but it can also make it easier to excuse low pay, normalize exhaustion, and treat limits as a lack of dedication. That is not an individual failing; it reflects how the work is organized.
Short-term grants and restricted budgets leave organizations in constant uncertainty. Teams are expected to deliver ambitious results while worrying about whether salaries can be paid. Mental health support is rarely treated as core infrastructure. The message comes through even when unstated: the mission matters more than the people doing the work.
Earth Day should be a moment to admit that this model places unsustainable pressure on those we rely on most.
Funders should stop treating well-being as optional. If grants can cover fieldwork, monitoring or technology, they can cover mental health care, humane workloads, paid leave and staff retention. Funding restrictions that prevent organizations from supporting their staff is not discipline; it leads to churn.
Leaders, too, should stop confusing stoicism with professionalism. A person at capacity is not lazy. A colleague who needs time off is not weak. A field biologist who admits distress is not less committed. These are ordinary facts in any serious institution.
The natural world is in trouble. So are many of the people working to protect it.
Earth Day asks the public to care about the planet. Institutions should ask something of themselves: to build systems that allow people to remain in this work over time without being worn down by it.
We are not going to protect the planet by burning through the people who have chosen to protect it.
