The pursuit of environmental journalism isn’t simply about documenting ecological decline; it’s about understanding how those declines intersect with human lives, and translating complex scientific findings into narratives that resonate beyond academic circles. This is the guiding principle for John Cannon, a staff features writer at Mongabay, who has spent the last decade reporting from across the globe, from the forests of Borneo to the waters off the coast of New England. While headlines often proclaim environmental crises, the crucial work lies in unpacking how those crises unfold, who is impacted, and what evidence supports the claims being made – a methodology that defines Cannon’s approach.
Cannon’s journey began with a biology degree from Ohio State University, followed by a graduate degree in science writing from the University of California, Santa Cruz. This foundation, coupled with his experience as a Peace Corps volunteer in Niger, instilled in him a deep appreciation for both the intricacies of the natural world and the human dimensions of environmental challenges. He joined Mongabay as a correspondent in 2014, becoming a full-time staff writer in 2016, and has since contributed to outlets like New Scientist, Slate.com, and NPR’s All Things Considered. For Cannon, evidence-based reporting isn’t merely a professional standard, but “perhaps the most profound way we can contribute to making things better.” This commitment is particularly evident in his recent work, which often focuses on the often-opaque world of carbon credit projects and the urgent need to protect endangered species.
One particularly impactful example is Mongabay’s extensive coverage of a “natural capital agreement” in Sabah, Malaysian Borneo. Initial reports in late 2021 revealed a deal signed in secret by Sabah’s state government and private companies that restricted the rights of local communities – particularly those dependent on the forest – for at least a century. This wasn’t a story about abstract environmental policy; it was a story about land rights, livelihoods, and the potential for conservation efforts to inadvertently harm the very people they are intended to benefit. The reporting, built on years of established relationships with sources on the ground, ultimately contributed to a reevaluation of the project by Sabah leaders and prompted a United Nations investigation. It’s a powerful illustration of how investigative journalism can serve as a check on potentially harmful initiatives, even those framed as solutions to climate change. However, it’s important to note that while the project is no longer seen as a threat, the broader trend of carbon credit schemes remains a complex and often controversial area, requiring continued scrutiny.
This article draws on reporting from news.mongabay.com.
Cannon’s work isn’t limited to terrestrial ecosystems. His recent feature, “Will ‘ropeless’ fishing gear be seaworthy in time to save endangered whales?” exemplifies his ability to weave together scientific research, personal narratives, and the practical realities faced by those directly involved. The article details the devastating impact of fishing line entanglement on North Atlantic right whales – a species on the brink of extinction – and explores the potential of “ropeless” fishing technologies as a solution. What stands out is the nuanced portrayal of the issue, acknowledging the challenges faced by fishermen while highlighting the urgency of protecting these magnificent creatures. As Cannon learned from decades of research by Michael Moore, a leading right whale biologist, entanglement doesn’t result in quick death like harpooning, but a prolonged and agonizing suffering. This detail, often absent from broader discussions, underscores the ethical imperative to find effective solutions.
However, the story also reveals a critical tension: the development and implementation of “ropeless” technology are lagging behind the rate of whale deaths. While provisions to limit ropes and boat speeds are showing some positive effects, a truly transformative change in fishing practices – one that has been centuries in the making – is needed to ensure the species’ survival. This isn’t a simple technological fix; it’s a complex socio-economic challenge that requires collaboration, innovation, and a willingness to disrupt established practices. It’s a reminder that even the most promising solutions are often fraught with obstacles and uncertainties.
Looking ahead, Cannon emphasizes the importance of continued storytelling in a rapidly evolving media landscape. He encourages aspiring journalists to “write,” recognizing that the demand for compelling narratives remains strong. But beyond simply writing, the next crucial step is to focus on building trust with communities and sources, and to prioritize evidence-based reporting that illuminates the interconnectedness of environmental issues and human lives. The question now isn’t whether we can tell these stories, but whether we can tell them in a way that fosters understanding, inspires action, and ultimately contributes to a more sustainable future. Will the momentum generated by investigative reporting like Cannon’s be enough to shift the trajectory of these crises, or will the complexities of political and economic forces continue to overshadow the urgent need for change? That remains to be seen, but the power of informed storytelling will undoubtedly play a critical role in shaping the outcome.
