I’ve now been doing GIS modeling and analysis for 16 years, eight of which I’ve spent at WWF. And during that time I’ve seen more and more conservation projects like the one at Mpala, as environmentalists recognize and leverage the storytelling power of maps.
One of my favorite examples is the Natural Capital Project, or NatCap, an initiative started in 2006 by WWF, The Nature Conservancy, Stanford University and the University of Minnesota. It aims to help all sorts of decision makers and stakeholders put a quantifiable value on the natural resources around them—and understand the impact their own actions have on those resources. I joined the team to lead GIS programming for InVEST, a suite of software tools for modeling different environmental data sets and situations, with a lot of emphasis on geography.
With the help of the visual stories told by those maps, we’ve been able to show many different policymakers and practitioners things like which parts of their forests store the most carbon, which landscapes are critical for the flow of fresh water, and which places are optimal for preserving biodiversity. We’re even developing a tool for mapping future scenarios that can factor in the wishes of the stakeholders themselves. So if a community tells us they want their land to have 40% more forest cover in 20 years, we can help them visualize and compare various ways to make that happen.
I’m excited about the energy pouring into the initiative, and about the numerous other new mapping projects I’m seeing at WWF and throughout the broader conservation world.
I’m also far from satisfied. The technology behind GIS has advanced at an astonishing pace over the past decade—it’s easier and cheaper to make maps than ever before—but our perception of its possible uses for conservation hasn’t kept up with those changes.
A lot of people still see GIS as something intimidating, reserved only for tech-heavy science research. But we rely on geospatial technology all the time in our personal lives: to find directions, plan trips, organize photo albums, even track our exercise.
The maps we use for those personal tasks could strengthen more of our conservation efforts. Not just the scientific facets, but also communications and marketing, how we talk to our members, even how we use our building’s space.
I want to help WWF build a culture where maps become one of our most common, innovative, easily created and easily shared communications assets—where they’re a default way of thinking about the work we do. Whether they’re hand drawn or highly pixelated, maps are pictures. So I always wonder when I see someone struggling to inspire people, convince skeptics or tell a story: Why not just use a map?