It’s time to make nature conservation fair

When the world is talking about restoring forests, protecting wildlife, or reviving degraded land in global fora such as COPs and IUCN assemblies, the conversation quickly turns to money. A simple but uncomfortable question arises: who will pay for it, and how can we make that fair? As Professor Francisco Alpízar from the Wageningen Environmental and Natural Resource Economics Group (ENR–SSG) points out: “It’s not just about how much we spend, but also how we spend it—and who benefits or suffers as a result.” 

Wealthy countries benefit from exploiting nature with bountiful biodiversity abroad, while developing nations, often rich in biodiversity, are left to deal with the consequences. “The Global North is willing to pay for conservation,” says Associate Professor Jelle Behagel from the Wageningen Forest and Nature Conservation Policy Group (FNP - ESG), “but not too much.”

The numbers tell the story. For example, the Netherlands invests roughly €1 billion per year in domestic nature conservation, yet only about €225 million abroad. “That’s less than a quarter,” says Behagel. “It’s understandable we care about our own national parks such as the Veluwe and the Wadden Sea. But nature loss elsewhere also threatens us. The Amazon, the Congo Basin, Indonesia’s rainforests—they regulate the global climate. When they disappear, we all pay the price. Moreover, the Dutch contribute significantly to biodiversity loss abroad; our biodiversity footprint is large.” 

To meet global targets for nature conservation, far more money is needed than is currently available. Closing this so-called ‘biodiversity finance gap’ would require around one trillion dollars annually: about one percent of global GDP. “That sounds huge,” says Behagel, “but during the first four months of the COVID-19 pandemic, governments spent ten times that amount. The problem isn’t that we can’t afford it, but that we don’t want to spend it on nature.”

Alpízar agrees but sees glimmers of change: “The financial sector—banks, pension funds, and insurance companies—is like the nervous system of the economy. It allocates resources, sets priorities, and holds enormous power over production and investment decisions everywhere. The financial sector can also become an agent of change. Historically, it’s been driven by profit alone, seeing nature and biodiversity as unrelated to daily business. But there’s growing recognition that climate- and biodiversity-related losses threaten the entire economy and the stability of the financial sector itself.” 

Alpízar argues that true change requires a new mindset: what he calls double materiality—recognizing that companies both impact and depend on nature. “If pollinators collapse, there’s no cocoa, and thus no chocolate,” he says. “Protecting biodiversity isn’t charity. It’s self-preservation. We, including the financial system, are part of nature.”

Some financial regulators and actors are starting to take action. The Dutch Central Bank and insurance companies, for instance, now study how biodiversity loss threatens financial stability. “They realize that degraded ecosystems mean economic instability,” says Alpízar. “If floods, droughts, or crop failures hit multiple countries, that risk travels through the global economy.” 

If nature conservation is to be fair, those who live closest to nature must have a say. “Indigenous people play a key role,” says Behagel. “Around eighty percent of the Earth’s biodiversity is found on indigenous and traditional lands. They’re incredibly effective at resisting logging and mining.”

Yet these communities rarely receive direct funding and have little decision-making power. “You can’t just tell them, ‘You’re good at protecting nature, so here’s double the workload,’” Behagel says. “They need schools, health care, and community centers—basic services that keep their culture and knowledge alive. For these people, the forest is home. Conservation is their way of life. Moreover, they need better recognition of their rights, which are often granted by law but not enforced in practice.” 

Money alone won’t fix the problem. Beyond providing the financial resources needed for nature restoration, innovative tools can help redistribute responsibility. Debt-for-nature swaps, for example, allow wealthy nations to buy part of a developing country’s debt and redirect the payments toward conservation. “It’s a literal way of sharing the burden,” says Behagel. “The Netherlands has a good credit rating. Why not use it to relieve others, in exchange for protecting ecosystems?”

Still, both experts stress that financial mechanisms are only part of the puzzle. “Ultimately, this is about behavior,” says Alpízar. “Governments, companies, institutions, and consumers must start valuing nature as the foundation of our economy, not as a free resource to exploit indefinitely.” 

So how do we make this fair? Behagel doesn’t hesitate: “The Global North has the money and imports a lot from the Global South. We have both a moral and a practical responsibility to pay for its protection.”

That requires rethinking our priorities. “We’re willing to spend 3.5 percent of GDP on NATO for security,” he notes. “Biodiversity needs just one percent. What’s more essential to security than a liveable planet?”

Both Alpízar and Behagel agree that the solution must come from two directions: top-down reforms in finance and trade—such as within banks, insurance companies, and the food sector—and bottom-up empowerment of local communities. “Biodiversity loss affects us all,” Behagel concludes. “It’s a global problem that’s becoming more costly every year. We know what to do. We’d better act now, before it’s too late. All we need is the political courage to do it.”