When science overreaches: Conservation needs ethics, not just ecology and economics

The recent article on human-nature interactions does not simply analyse conservation – it reframes it around a distinctly human-centred logic, where nature’s value is measured largely by its usefulness to us. Presented as pragmatic and grounded, this argument in fact rests on deeply contested ethical ground that the authors neither acknowledge nor defend.

This matters more than it may seem.

Where science ends and values begin

The authors, Jeanetta Selier and Sam Ferreira, are ecologists. They are experts in ecosystems and species behaviour. They are not, by training, experts in moral philosophy. Yet the article moves confidently from describing human-nature relationships to advancing a particular ethical position: that conservation decisions should be guided primarily by extractive human perspectives, shaped by culture and economics.

This is not a neutral scientific claim – it is a philosophical one.

Once we move into questions of what should be done, whose values should count and what trade-offs are acceptable, we are no longer in the realm of science. We are dealing with ethics, politics and competing worldviews. These are fields with long, rigorous traditions of debate, and they cannot simply be folded into ecological or economic reasoning without careful thought.

What is missing from the article is any acknowledgement of this shift. Instead, a set of contested ethical assumptions is presented as if it naturally follows from ecological insight.

It does not.

The problem with ‘everything is relative’

One of the central threads in the piece is a form of cultural relativism – the idea that conservation practices should be understood, and perhaps justified, within the context of local cultural norms and economic realities.

There is truth in this. South Africa’s history demands sensitivity to issues of inequality, land use and local livelihoods. Conservation cannot ignore these realities. But taken too far, this line of thinking creates a serious problem: if all practices are judged only within their cultural or economic context, on what basis do we criticise harmful ones?

If a practice degrades ecosystems, drives species decline or treats animals purely as commodities to be killed, can we still question it? Or are we required to accept it as culturally or economically valid?

The article does not grapple with this concern. It leans heavily on context and culture, but avoids asking where ethical limits might lie. Without those limits, conservation risks becoming morally directionless, unable to distinguish between what is understandable and what is justifiable.

A deeply human-centred view of nature

Closely linked to this is the article’s strongly anthropocentric framing. Nature is repeatedly discussed in terms of human needs, human values and human choices. Conservation, in this view, becomes something we do for ourselves – because it benefits us, reflects our identities or supports our livelihoods.

Again, this is not unusual. Much of modern conservation policy has adopted this language to gain political traction. But it comes at a cost.

When nature is valued primarily for its usefulness to humans, it becomes easier to justify its exploitation. The line between conservation and extraction begins to blur. Protecting biodiversity becomes less about safeguarding living systems and more about exploiting resources.

This is not a theoretical concern. South Africa is already grappling with intense pressures on its ecosystems, driven largely by human activity. Framing conservation in narrowly human terms risks reinforcing the very mindset that created the problem in the first place.

There is another way of thinking about this – one that recognises that non-human life has value beyond its utility to us. The article does not engage with this perspective at all.

The quiet normalisation of extractivism

Perhaps the most concerning aspect of the piece is how it normalises a broader and questionable “use it to save it” approach to conservation. Whether through wildlife industries, tourism or other forms of resource use, the underlying logic is the same: nature must pay its way.

This argument is often presented as pragmatic, even unavoidable. But it is also deeply ideological, outdated and one-sided. It assumes that the only viable path to conservation is through economic integration – that nature must be commodified in order to survive. What goes unexamined is whether this simply extends the same extractive logic that has driven environmental degradation globally.

In other words, are we solving the problem, or making it worse?

The article does not ask this question. Instead, it treats “sustainable use” as largely self-evident, without interrogating who defines sustainability, who benefits and who bears the costs – human and non-human alike.

A need for greater humility

None of this is to dismiss the importance of understanding human-nature relationships. On the contrary, conservation that ignores people is both unjust and ineffective. But there is a difference between contributing to a conversation and attempting to settle it.

When scientists move into ethical territory, a degree of humility is essential. Claims about what ought to be done require more than ecological evidence. They require engagement with philosophy, with ethics and with the messy reality of conflicting values.

What we see instead is a kind of disciplinary overreach: a confidence that the tools of ecology and economics are sufficient to answer questions that are, at their core, moral.

They are not.

Conservation is a moral project

At its heart, conservation is not about managing and exploiting ecosystems. It is about deciding what kind of relationship we want with the natural world. That is a moral question.

It involves difficult questions, competing interests and uncomfortable truths. It cannot be resolved by appealing to culture alone, nor by reducing nature to its economic usefulness to us. And it certainly cannot be settled within the boundaries of a single discipline.

If the conservation conversation in South Africa is to move forward, it must become more, not less, honest about these tensions. That means confronting the ethical limits of “use”, questioning whose values are being privileged and recognising that not all justifications carry equal moral weight.

Scientists have a vital role to play. But they cannot arbitrate values, nor legitimise them by implication. When they attempt to do so, they risk overstepping their authority and end up narrowing, rather than enriching, the debate.

Conservation is not just a technical exercise, it is a moral choice about how we relate to the living world. If we fail to treat it as such, we do more than oversimplify the problem, we entrench a particular worldview, shield it from scrutiny and present it as inevitable.

That is not good science. And it is not good conservation. DM

Dr Adam Cruise is an investigative environmental journalist, travel writer and academic. He has contributed to a number of international publications, including National Geographic and The Guardian, covering diverse topics from the plight of elephants, rhinos and lions in Africa to coral reef rejuvenation in Indonesia. Cruise is a doctor of philosophy, specialising in animal and environmental ethics, and is the editor of the online Journal of African Elephants. He is a Research Fellow at the Unit of Environmental Ethics, Philosophy Department, Stellenbosch University.