The Communications Gap in Marine Mammal Conservation

Within marine mammal conservation, there is no shortage of passion or those who want to be involved. At any given moment, marine mammals are being tracked across migration routes, treated in rehabilitation centers, and studied in ways that will shape conservation efforts for decades to come. And if you’re reading this, chances are you’re involved in the field in some capacity.

Yet, much of the work being done exists in fragments, surfacing briefly (if at all) in the broader public view. The moments there is awareness typically follow moments of urgency: a stranded whale, a viral video, or a policy headline. Outside of those moments, the steady, ongoing work that defines conservation is far less visible, and even less consistently understood.

The gap isn’t in the science, in the level of effort, or in the importance of the work being done. Part of this is a resource issue, but part of it is a knowledge gap. Communications alongside digital marketing isn’t just about sharing updates. The ways information is shared and seen are increasingly shaped by shifting technologies, trends, and algorithms that prioritize immediacy over depth, and consistency over nuance. For many organizations, keeping pace with those changes requires a level of time, expertise, and ongoing adaptation that isn’t always accessible.

Understanding where that gap forms and how it shows up across visibility, engagement, and long-term connections is critical to turning conservation work into meaningful support.

It’s important to note the gap does not stem from a single point of failure that can be easily identified and remedied overnight. It’s the results of multiple gaps compounding across how information is understood, how it resonates, how it’s seen, and whether it’s sustained over time. The compounding nature is further escalated by the nature of marine mammal conservation, where the work is complex, often distant, and communicated within rapidly shifting digital environments.

One of the most persistent assumptions in communicatiAons, especially conservation communications, is that awareness equals understanding. That is, if people are given the right information, they will interpret it, retain it, and act on it accordingly. In practice, it rarely works that way, or it at least takes a while.

Much of marine mammal conservation still operates on what’s often referred to as the knowledge deficit fallacy, the idea that if people simply know more, they will care more. But information alone doesn’t guarantee comprehension, especially when it’s delivered without the context needed to make it meaningful.

A significant part of that challenge lies in how the work is communicated. Scientific findings, technical language, and context-heavy explanations are essential within the field, but they don’t always translate easy to external audiences. Even well-intentioned outreach can lean heavily on terminology, assumptions, or levels of detail that require prior knowledge to fully understand. In some cases, marketing efforts mirror this, prioritizing accuracy over understanding, making the message harder to engage with. As explored in Science & Storytelling for Ocean Stewards, how information is translated matters just as much as the information itself.

At the same time, information doesn’t exist in isolation. Audiences are a part of an environment increasingly defined by constant input, where conservation messaging competes with everything from breaking news to entertainment to everyday distractions. On average, individuals consume the equivalent of 74 gigabytes of information daily across media and digital platforms. Even when information is clear, it’s often encountered once, without reinforcement, and quickly scrolled past.

There’s also the question of perception over time. For many people, the current state of the environment is the only version they’ve ever known. Without a clear reference point for what’s different, change can feel normalized, and urgency becomes harder to fully grasp.

Even when information is understood, it doesn’t always drive people to take action.

Much of conservation communication is framed around urgency: declining populations, habitat loss, species at risk, etc… These realities are becoming more common by the minute and they matter. But when messaging consistently centers on what’s going wrong without offering a clear sense of what can be done, it can create a different kind of disconnect.

This is often referred to as the gap between fear and hope. An overreliance on urgency and negative framing can raise awareness, but without a corresponding sense of agency, it can also lead to disengagement. When the problem feels too large, too complex, or too far removed from individual impact, it becomes difficult to see how to respond.

Framing also plays an important role in who the message is reaching. Conservation communication often focuses on familiar species, audiences, and narratives, reinforcing existing interest rather than expanding it. Messaging is rarely tailored to different levels of knowledge, experience, or motivation. What resonates with one audience may not resonate with another, and without that distinction, engagement can plateau.

In marine mammal conservation, visibility can be inconsistent. There isn’t a strong, ongoing media presence dedicated to conservation work. Coverage tends to show up around major events or viral moments, then fade just as quickly, when most of the work happens outside of that cycle.

Distance plays a role as well. For many people, marine mammals and the environments they live in aren’t part of everyday life. It’s estimated that less than 1% of the human population will see a whale in their lifetime. There’s no regular, real-life exposure, so awareness isn’t reinforced over time. If something isn’t seen consistently, it’s easy to forget, overlook, or never see it in the first place.

The platforms where this work is shared add another layer. Algorithms prioritize content that performs quickly and posts that are timely, frequent, and easy to engage with. Further, social media and communication platform algorithms are continuously changing, so much so, even marketing and communications professionals struggle to keep up. Conservation work doesn’t always fit that model. It’s often slower, more detailed, and less predictable than what’s awarded online.

Even when communication is clear, resonates, and reaches the right people, it still depends on whether it can be sustained over time.

In many organizations, communication is treated as an output rather than an ongoing function. Efforts are often tied to specific campaigns, events, or immediate needs, rather than supported as a consistent, long-term priority. Without that continuity, messaging becomes sporadic, and any momentum that’s built is difficult to maintain.

Part of this comes down to internal support. Communications and marketing are often under-resourced or expected to operate alongside other responsibilities. When that happens, consistency is one of the first things to slip. And tied to the reach bottleneck, there are usually a handful of communications and marketing platforms professionals communicate through, each with their own strategy, further stretching the sustainability of effective messaging.

There’s also the question of how communication flows from organizations to the community. In many cases, it’s shaped from the top down, focused on telling people what actions to take, rather than engaging in dialogue with the communities most connected to the work. Local communities, Indigenous groups, and other stakeholders are often positioned as audiences rather than participants. Over time, this can weaken trust and reduce the legitimacy of conservation efforts, making it harder to build the kind of long-term support these initiatives depend on.

If a message doesn’t land, it won’t resonate. If it doesn’t resonate, it won’t be seen. And if it isn’t seen consistently, it won’t last. Over time, that breakdown creates distance between the work being done and the people it depends on, and sometimes the work being done doesn’t get shown at all.

Thumbnail & Hero: A crabeater seal, one of the most abundant marine mammals, laying out on pack ice in Antarctica, courtesy of Sofia Green, @sofiverdeazul.