Nature Walks to Nature Disclosures: The Evolving Story of Conservation

Nature Walks to Nature Disclosures: The Evolving Story of Conservation

When I think of the history of conservation, I am reminded that it has always been about two things: connection and accountability. For centuries, we connected with nature through reverence and experience—sacred groves, forest walks, birdwatching trips, or simply the awe of a mountain landscape.

The story of nature conservation is as old as civilization itself. What began as spiritual reverence for forests, rivers, and wildlife has, over centuries, transformed into structured laws, global movements, and now, corporate reporting frameworks. The journey from enjoying nature walks to drafting nature disclosures reflects not only a shift in how we value the natural world, but also how we measure our accountability to it.

Early conservation efforts were often inspired by reverence and emotion. In many ancient cultures, nature was sacred. From India’s sacred groves to Native American traditions of living in balance with the land, conservation was embedded in daily practice. Resources were respected, often protected through rituals and community norms.

The modern conservation movement took shape in the 19th century. Alarmed by deforestation and species decline, leaders like John Muir in the United States advocated for wilderness preservation. National parks were established—Yellowstone in 1872 being the first—to protect landscapes for future generations. In India, the British colonial government created forest reserves in the late 1800s, primarily to regulate timber, but inadvertently laid the foundation for conservation science in the subcontinent.

By the early 20th century, conservation became both a recreational and scientific pursuit. Hiking clubs, birdwatching societies, and nature walks popularized the idea that spending time outdoors fostered appreciation for wildlife and ecosystems. Conservationists believed that experiencing nature firsthand was the best way to inspire protection.

But by mid-century, a turning point arrived. Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring (1962) revealed the dangers of pesticides, linking human health and ecological well-being. Conservation was no longer only about protecting landscapes for leisure—it was also about safeguarding human survival. This was the beginning of the modern environmental movement.

Global frameworks reframed conservation as part of a larger sustainability agenda in the late 20^th century. The 1987 Brundtland Report introduced the now-famous definition of sustainable development: meeting the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.

The Rio Earth Summit of 1992 brought biodiversity conservation, climate action, and sustainable development together under one platform. Businesses, governments, and civil society began to recognize that conservation was not just about trees and tigers—it was about energy systems, agriculture, cities, and economies. Suddenly, conservation was not just about forests and species—it was about energy systems, food chains, cities, and economies.

In 2025, conservation is no longer just an outdoor activity—it is a boardroom responsibility. Businesses, investors, and governments are expected to measure and disclose their impact on nature.

This is the age of nature disclosures.

• The Taskforce on Nature-related Financial Disclosures (TNFD) is asking companies to identify their risks, dependencies, and impacts on ecosystems.

• Investors are demanding transparency on biodiversity loss, deforestation, and water use.

• Policymakers are building accountability into regulations and climate commitments.

We have shifted from experiencing nature to accounting for nature.

For some, the transition may feel like a loss—the romance of nature walks replaced by spreadsheets and reports. But disclosures give conservation something it has long lacked: teeth. Without measurable data, conservation risks are symbolic. With disclosures, we can demand accountability and direct finance toward solutions.

Yet, we must be cautious. Numbers alone cannot inspire. If conservation becomes only about risk registers and compliance checklists, we risk losing the human connection that drives genuine care. The challenge before us is to balance connection with accountability.

As someone working at the intersection of climate, business, and community, I believe the future of conservation lies in bridging these two worlds. We need the heart of nature walks. This gives us the “why”. We also need the rigor of nature disclosures to get the “how.”

The sustainability movement’s evolution from nature walks to nature disclosures is not about abandoning one for the other—it is about weaving them together. To truly protect the natural world, we must walk in the forest and account for what happens when the forest is gone.

Because in the end, conservation is not just about saving nature—it is about saving ourselves.

(Bringing back the basics - 01)