Conservation’s blind spot

Most of the species holding ecosystems together are the ones we fear, ignore, or dismiss. As conservation chases charisma, the animals doing the quiet work of survival are slipping away, often without notice, funding, or protection.

Interesting facts

• Invertebrates make up around 95% of known animal species.

• Fewer than 2% of insect species have been assessed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature.

• Some regions have reported insect population declines of over 70% in recent decades.

• Less than 1% of spiders globally are medically significant.

  
  

Conservation has a look. It is big, furry, and usually photographed in golden light. Rhinos walking through settling dust, tigers melting into shadowed forest, and polar bears stranded on drifting ice. These animals dominate fundraising campaigns and social media feeds.

But what happens to the rest of life on Earth when conservation follows beauty, comfort, and familiarity rather than ecological need? This preference for beauty does not simply exclude the unremarkable; it actively marginalises the creatures that provoke fear or disgust.

The image of the hairy spider accompanying this article may cause an instinctive reaction. For some, it is fear; for others, it means discomfort, or perhaps even repulsion. That response is not accidental. It is part of the problem and dangerously disconnected from ecological reality.

Spiders, snakes, frogs, and insects make up the majority of animal life on Earth. Invertebrates alone account for roughly 95–97% of known animal species. They pollinate crops, recycle nutrients, build soils, regulate pests, and form the base of almost every food web. Without them, ecosystems unravel with alarming speed.

A 2023 study published in Biological Conservation analysed nearly 15 000 conservation projects worldwide and found that funding overwhelmingly favours charismatic mammals and birds. Amphibians, reptiles, and invertebrates, despite facing severe declines, receive a fraction of the attention. Given their foundational role, this imbalance would be troubling even if these species were stable. They are not.

“Studies show that people relate more to mammals because they are more like us,” says Scott Black, executive director of The Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation. “For some people, insects and other invertebrates are not just unattractive, they are scary. Spiders are a perfect example.”

This fear shapes everyday behaviour. Spiders are often killed just in case. Bugs are easily dismissed as unwanted pests. Snakes are often hated and despised, with social media frequently declaring that the only good snake is one no longer alive.

The irony is stark. According to Black less than 1% of invertebrates are considered agricultural or structural pests. Less than 1% of spider species worldwide have the required venom to be significant to humans.

This bias becomes even more troubling when illegal wildlife trade enters the picture. While global attention focuses on ivory, horns and scales, collectors also target smaller species. Rare frogs, snakes, spiders, and insects are trafficked for the pet trade, private collections, and online sales – often slipping beneath the regulatory radar. That same invisibility does not only justify casual killing; it also makes exploitation easier to ignore.

A 2020 study in Nature Communications found that more than a third of all reptile species are traded online, most without international protection. For species that exist in only one valley, one forest, or one stream, extinction can begin with a single online sale.

“In my 45 years working with snakes, I’ve never received a cent for research funding,” says Johan Marais of the African Snakebite Institute. “I’ve funded my work myself.”

Fear, he adds, is harder to undo than ignorance. Changing someone’s mind about snakes can be like trying to change their religion. But attitudes are shifting. Education works. But it is racing a collapse that does not wait for attitudes to catch up.

That slow shift is visible in unexpected places. In the mid-2000s, widespread concern about pollinator declines helped reframe how people viewed bees and butterflies.

Organisations like the Xerces Society and Butterfly Pavilion have deliberately used this opening to broaden the conversation. “Charismatic insects can act as ambassadors,” Black explains. Monarch butterflies and fireflies draw people in.

At Butterfly Pavilion, an Association of Zoos and Aquariums-accredited invertebrate zoo, hands-on encounters are central to changing perceptions. When people safely observe or interact with species they once feared, curiosity replaces fear, according to Butterfly Pavilion Director of Communications and Marketing Jennifer Quermann. Spiders, cockroaches, and beetles stop being monsters and start being problem-solvers, survivors, and ecosystem engineers.

Despite the scale of the crisis, perception is not static. This reframing is important because the crisis facing these species is severe and accelerating. In some regions, insect populations have declined by more than 70% over the past few decades. Fewer than 2% of insect species have been assessed for extinction risk.

The loss means something. Spiders regulate insect populations. Frogs act as early warning systems for environmental health. Invertebrates pollinate crops, filter water, and feed nearly all other wildlife. Around 94% of songbirds rely on invertebrates to feed their young in many ecosystems.

Conservation, at its core, is being forced to confront an uncomfortable question: If conservation only protects the species that we find appealing, it is not conservation.

Rethinking priorities does not require loving spiders or embracing snakes. It requires recognising responsibility over affection. Invertebrates live where people live. Gardens, roadsides, farms, and cities all matter.

The animals we ignore are part of the invisible infrastructure on Earth. If conservation continues to look away, the systems that keep the planet habitable for us all will disappear quietly, alongside the snakes and spiders we taught ourselves not to care about.

We originally published this article in issue 5 of ThisWildEarth. Find more of our publications here.

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