The environment sector has been calling for private investment for decades, believing it to be the answer to their prayers. They think natural capital is coming to help them. It isn’t.
This isn’t salvation—it’s a reckoning. But let me be clear: this is not a challenge, nor a critique of the sector’s incredible achievements. Instead, this is a warning given with love and kindness. We all owe so much to the wonderful people that created, led, helped, or donated to the Wildlife Trusts, Rivers Trusts, Woodland Trust, National Trust and so many more beautiful organisations.
Those working in conservation NGO’s and charities have dedicated their lives to protecting the natural world, often against insurmountable odds and painfully slow bureaucratic procedures. Their successes should be celebrated. Yet the future is shifting rapidly, and the very thing they have invited—private investment—is both necessary and inevitable. But its consequences will be profound.
Natural capital markets are advancing, quiet but unstoppable, and the sector remains dangerously unprepared. The fundamental issue is clear: they neither understand nor wish to understand the realities of investment.
When NGOs and charities talk about investment, they mean gifts, donations, and grants—a free-flowing stream of never-ending cash with no expectation of a return. It’s a well-intentioned but fundamentally flawed approach. In reality, the sector has been hooked on philanthropy like a drug, utterly dependent and therefore resistant to change.
The Toxic Addiction to Grants
Grants and donations have become the heroin of the environment sector, fostering a system where projects are shaped by funding cycles rather than the real, dynamic needs of nature and communities (of people and wildlife).
This slow, rigid formula fails to align with the urgency and unpredictability of ecological processes. This is fundamentally flawed – the natural world doesn’t operate on financial years, yet conservation organisations are forced to think in short-term, one-off interventions dictated by the whims of donors or grant funding cycles.
The inefficiencies are staggering. The most talented people in the sector spend their time chasing grants instead of delivering meaningful environmental change. Instead of rewarding high performance and ambition, the sector is shackled by the fear of upsetting donors – we’ve seen it first hand with neighbouring landowners and partners sharing that they can’t do what they know is right for the environment because their donors won’t like it. Innovation is stifled, all risk is avoided (at huge costs), and difficult decisions are dodged, delayed, or differed.
The addiction to grants and donations has not just shaped the sector’s financial model—it has defined the way conservation is done. And we’re not standing outside throwing stones; we live and work in this system too. Some aspects of our work, from habitat restoration to species reintroduction, require grant funding to be financially viable in the current market.
This isn’t just bad for conservation—it’s bad business. Actually that’s not fair, they’re not trying to be businesses. Organisations locked in this cycle can’t scale, can’t pay for the best talent, and can’t break free from a perpetual dependency model. No industry thrives under such conditions, and the environment sector is no exception. Some of the most talented CEOs have managed to grow their organisations because they are exceptional at playing the funding game, but even they could achieve so much more in the private sector with the freedoms and tools that it brings.
Philanthropy as a Bridge, not a Crutch
Despite its limitations, philanthropy is still an important funding source for conservation projects in their early stages and we could see this model persist as the natural capital economy evolves. Right now, this is what keeps thousands of organisations afloat—but it’s doing so in a way that fosters dependency rather than sustainability.
Currently, it is incredibly difficult to secure investment for projects without an established revenue model. Investors demand financial returns, and most conservation projects struggle to meet those expectations in the beginning. This is where philanthropy plays – and could continue to play – a more productive role: supporting projects that eventually attract institutional investment.
Rather than acting as an endless subsidy, philanthropy should be viewed as a means to an end—a bridge to investment, not a substitute for it.
But unfortunately, right now, too many organisations rely on philanthropy indefinitely, rather than using it to build something self-sustaining. The sector needs to ask itself: is the goal to fundraise forever, or to create conservation businesses that no longer need donations? The answer might be different depending on who you ask.
Natural Capital: The Market-Based Future
There is, however, an alternative: natural capital. The ability to generate a return from ecosystem services—whether through carbon sequestration, biodiversity credits, or developing ecosystem services—provides a way out of this trap. But it won’t be the lifeline NGOs are expecting. It will first be a threat and ultimately a force that compels transformation—some will evolve, while others may become obsolete.
With real investment comes the need for accountability, performance standards, impact measurement, and a market-rate return. Conservation will no longer be a charitable endeavour but a financially viable industry—one that can attract institutional capital to scale effectively.
We have seen this transformation happen across countless industries, particularly in sports. Motor racing once existed as a pastime for passionate hobbyists tinkering in their garages, but today, it is a multi-billion-dollar industry led by Formula 1, where precision, data, and financial backing dictate success. Football, once an amateur pursuit played for the love of the game, has evolved into the Premier League and Champions League, global spectacles powered by strategic investment and high-performance management. Even cricket, steeped in tradition as a gentleman’s afternoon pastime, has been revolutionised by the Indian Premier League (IPL), turning players into brands, teams into franchises, and the game into an economic powerhouse.
These examples illustrate the inevitable shift from passion-driven volunteerism to professional, high-stakes enterprise. Conservation is no different. What was once the domain of well-meaning enthusiasts and charitable efforts is now evolving into a sophisticated, investment-led industry. Those who continue to operate as hobbyists will find themselves left behind as the world moves toward structured, performance-driven conservation that integrates financial markets, technology, and scalable impact. Just as sport has demonstrated, professionalism doesn’t diminish the passion—it amplifies it, creating a space where ambition, talent, and strategic thinking can drive unprecedented success.
The rise of natural capital signals the end of many traditional environmental NGOs. Why would anyone donate money when they could invest it, earn a return, and reinvest in even more conservation work? The future belongs to organisations that can generate value, not just ask for it.
I recently sat down with Izzie Milligan, who highlighted the staggering number of environmental NGOs in the UK. She’s right—the sector is fragmented, bloated, and often duplicative. As natural capital markets emerge, these inefficiencies will become increasingly untenable. The sector won’t just need to adapt—it will need to survive.
Philanthropy’s Lasting Role in Conservation
Even as natural capital markets grow and investment-led conservation becomes the norm, philanthropy may always have a place – just not one that is quite so big. Not everyone who cares about nature is an investor, nor do they necessarily want to be.
Many donors may not be looking for market-rate returns—they simply want to contribute to something meaningful.
This could lead to a shift where philanthropy focuses on funding critical but non-revenue-generating projects, like community-led conservation and environmental education. These areas, while still essential to broader conservation goals, lack the financial mechanisms to attract institutional investors.
In this way, philanthropy may not completely disappear. Rather than competing with investment-based conservation, it could become a complement in the natural capital economy. It could fill the gaps where markets fall short and make sure that conservation remains accessible to those wanting to support conservation without navigating the complexity of investing.
The Divide: Professional or Amateur?
This is not about adaptation; it is about choice. Conservation as a professional, scalable business is emerging, and it will not wait for those unwilling to evolve. There will be a clear divide between those who embrace this transformation and those who remain trapped in the past.
The question is no longer whether conservation will become professionalised—it’s already happening. The most talented people across the UK (and the world) are rushing towards the sector, and they are unreasonable, demanding, and incredible.
The real question is: do you want to be a professional, or will you remain an amateur? The days of well-meaning but financially naive conservation are numbered. The sector must decide if it wants to be part of the future or a relic of the past.
A Future Defined by Bold Action
So now, the only decision left is how to meet this change.
To those who have dedicated their lives to conservation and who have fought for every acre of protected land and every restored river, this is not a dismissal of your work. This is a recognition that what got us here will not get us where we need to go. Passion is not enough. Grants are not enough. The planet does not operate on the timelines of funding cycles, nor can it wait for the slow drip of philanthropy to deliver the scale of restoration required.
The world is changing, and conservation must change with it. Those who seize this moment will not only protect and restore nature—they will redefine the very way we value it.
The future of conservation belongs to the bold, the strategic, and the relentless. It will be built by those who understand that impact and investment are no longer separate conversations, and those who can provide a meaningful return of both.