Empowering conservation through consent: social safeguards for communities sharing space with wildlife

FPIC is more than an acronym. It’s about respect. It’s about listening. And most importantly, it’s about recognising that the people who live closest to nature are not obstacles to conservation; they are its strongest allies. Rooted in international human rights standards, FPIC represents a transformative shift from conservation done to communities to conservation done with communities. 

Why communities matter in conservation 

In our work with communities across diverse landscapes, one thing has become crystal clear: conservation imposed from the top down rarely works. It may look good on paper, but without listening to the voices of those who call these places home, it often leads to resentment, conflict, and broken promises. But truly involving communities produces lasting results. 

We have seen this first-hand in the creation of Illaingarunyoni and Ole Narika Conservancies. These aren’t just protected areas; they are living, breathing landscapes shaped by generations of pastoralists, landowners, and communities. What made their establishment successful wasn’t just sound ecological planning; it was the deliberate inclusion of the communities’ voices through the FPIC process. 

Instead of decisions being made in distant boardrooms, FPIC brings the conversation to the community level. It’s about creating a space where people can say, ‘This is our land, our heritage, and this is how we want to protect it.’ When communities feel heard and respected, conservation stops being an external project. It becomes personal. It becomes theirs. 

We experienced the power of this first-hand. In both Illaingarunyoni and Ole Narika, community gatherings under the shade of acacia trees, filled with laughter, debates, and sometimes heated disagreements, forged conservation commitments. It’s not about fancy presentations or jargon; it’s about connection. FPIC fosters that connection by ensuring that the people who know the land best are part of shaping its future. 

Righting the wrongs of the past 

Let’s be honest: conservation has a complicated history. In many parts of the world, efforts to ‘protect nature’ meant displacing communities, stripping them of their rights, and erasing their stories. National parks were created, but the people who had lived sustainably on that land for generations were pushed out. This exclusion didn’t just harm communities—it weakened conservation itself. 

FPIC challenges that legacy. It acknowledges that communities aren’t just stakeholders; they are rights-holders. This is their land, their resources, their future. FPIC is about asking for consent, not forgiveness. It’s a process that says: ‘Your voice matters. Your history matters. You matter.’ 

In Illaingarunyoni, for example, community members shared stories of past grievances—land disputes, broken promises, and exclusion from decisions that directly affected their lives. The FPIC process created a space to confront these issues honestly, fostering reconciliation and rebuilding trust. And it works. When people feel respected, they become fierce defenders of the very ecosystems we’re trying to protect. Trust me, no one fights harder for the land than those whose ancestors are buried in its soil. 

In this way, conservation not only protects landscapes and wildlife, but also restores justice and dignity to the communities that have historically safeguarded these areas. 

Conservation that works—because it’s rooted in real life 

But FPIC isn’t just a box to tick at the start of a project. It’s an ongoing relationship. It’s about checking in, adapting, and growing together. Because conservation isn’t static, it’s as dynamic as the people and places it touches. 

Yes, it’s challenging—but that’s the point 

Implementing FPIC is not without challenges. Sometimes meetings are tense. Power dynamics can be tricky. Cultural differences can create misunderstandings. And yes, genuine consent means a community might say no. But that’s the beauty of it. Consent isn’t real if people can’t say no. 

I’ve been in meetings where voices were raised, frustrations boiled over, and it felt like we were getting nowhere. But those moments mattered. They were raw, real, and necessary. Because at the heart of FPIC is the belief that messy, honest dialogue is better than silent, superficial agreement. 

In both conservancies, we navigated complex issues, land tenure disputes, leadership conflicts, and questions about benefit-sharing. Some days felt like taking two steps forward and one step back. But in the end, those difficult conversations laid the groundwork for stronger, more resilient conservancies. 

Implementing FPIC requires patience, humility, and cultural sensitivity. Navigating tensions between traditional leadership structures and emerging governance bodies is part of the process. But these challenges also present opportunities to strengthen community capacities, ensure gender inclusivity, and institutionalise feedback mechanisms that make conservation more resilient and adaptive. 

The impact: a legacy of empowerment 

The FPIC process in Illaingarunyoni and Ole Narika has left an indelible mark on the communities involved. It has empowered local leaders, fostered a stronger sense of ownership, and strengthened the social fabric of these conservancies. Communities that once felt disconnected from conservation decisions now sit at the table, not as observers but as equal partners. 

Women, often left out of such dialogues, found their voices amplified. Youth saw new opportunities, not just in employment as rangers or guides but as future stewards of their cultural and ecological heritage. Most importantly, FPIC has cultivated trust, the most vital currency in any conservation effort. 

A call to action for all of us 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: conservation is not just about saving trees or animals. It’s about saving relationships, between people and nature, between communities and their histories, between humanity and the planet we all share. 

So, here’s my challenge to policymakers, conservationists, and anyone who cares about our planet: stop seeing FPIC as a hurdle. See it for what it truly is, a bridge—between tradition and progress, between people and policies, between past wrongs and future hopes. 

FPIC isn’t just a process. It’s a promise—a promise to honour the voices of those who’ve been here long before us and whose wisdom will guide us long after we’re gone. Let’s keep that promise, not just with words, but with actions rooted in respect, humility, and shared purpose. 

Because when conservation starts with consent, it doesn’t just protect the planet. It heals it.