I am a conservationist, foremostly, because I am a conservative.

The two terms have in recent decades been viewed as antithetical, though one is clearly the root of the other. Conservatism, according to the loudest voices on both the left and right, is the philosophy of free trade, market economics, and global capitalism. While conservation, these same voices claim, is an ideal of environmental-mindedness thoughtfully coupled with trendy actions like diet changes and climate protests, or buzzwords like sustainability and environmental justice.

This is true conservatism removed from its modern confusion, as codified by Irish statesman Edmund Burke in the late 18^th century as a response to the naively idealistic and disastrous French Revolution. Though formally written less than 250 years ago, this worldview has been implicitly maintained by generations whose sentiments echo throughout the ages. To these humble people, now labeled “conservatives,” a wise and prudent life has long required a realistic understanding of the limits—and vices—of human nature. The conservative statesman has long understood change must be applied by the gradual and careful correction of the individual ills of a society rather than hastily and all at once, lest “the whole fabric be pulled down.” The conservative lawmaker has long recognized that what is best for a particular place depends on the context of its culture and traditions, as opposed to untested abstractions.

A true conservative…is one who believes human beings are naturally limited by three major realities: morality, responsibility, and place.

“Conservatism” is therefore perhaps the most misunderstood term in the modern political lexicon, whose solemn mandates of morality and responsibility have been degraded into an economically centered ‘laisse-faire’ attitude that does not look much different from the liberal license it purports to oppose. Yes, conservatism brings freedom, but in the older, biblical sense of order; within a framework of those activities permitted by communal relations and the boundaries of human nature.

As for “conservation,” its infamous, trendy, and often radical counterpart would more accurately be called environmentalism. Like the term conservatism, the noble aims of conservation—the responsible stewardship of a place in its ecological context—have been vulgarized into a nebulous environmental orthodoxy whose tenets vary by the individual but are often expressly anti-human in character. However, despite the popular lamentations espoused by many environmentalists today, true conservation requires human involvement at a large and long-term scale. It must be so because human beings have been placed in a world-wide mosaic of ecosystems whose ecological processes are so complex they can only be gleaned from a lifetime of place-based experience combined with wisdom passed down from the generations that came before. Only with such local knowledge may an ecosystem be best cared for.

The obligations of each of these terms, conservatism and conservation, should sound similar. Both require decisions made in the context of the limits, ecology, and/or culture of a place. Both human societies and the natural world are best cared for by slow, gradual change. Both are best understood through the wisdom, experience, and appreciation shared by those of the past, present, and future. This, at root, is why I am a conservationist.

by Evan Patrohay