For a span exceeding six decades, the esteemed name of Sir David Attenborough has been intrinsically linked with the production of exemplary nature documentaries.
While his most recent endeavor, the Netflix series Our Planet, once again features his insightful narration over breathtaking natural vistas and wildlife encounters, this particular series carries a distinct divergence from his previous cinematic offerings.
Numerous of his earlier triumphant creations have tended to depict the wilderness as pristine and unaltered. In contrast, Our Planet is framed to foreground the critical threats confronting natural ecosystems within its overarching narrative.
The introductory sequences explicitly state: “For the first time in human history, the stability of nature can no longer be taken for granted.”
This represents a profoundly significant shift, arguably one that has been long overdue. Individuals dedicated to studying the pressures exerted upon wild nature have frequently expressed their dissatisfaction with nature documentaries that inadvertently foster an impression of the world’s well-being.
A perspective held by some is that such productions might inadvertently exacerbate issues rather than alleviate them, potentially fostering a sense of complacency among audiences.
Those within the field of conservation science harbored expectations that this new series would not shy away from confronting the stark realities: the marvels showcased in these captivating nature programs are diminishing alarmingly, and a substantial number are in imminent danger of being permanently lost.
It was my distinct privilege to witness the production team of One Planet in action back in 2015, a testament to the years-long commitment required for these films to materialize. My involvement spanned three weeks at their base camp in western Madagascar, where their efforts were focused on their forest-related documentary segment.
While the film crew diligently worked around the clock to capture footage of the fossa, carnivorous predators of lemurs, and to obtain the perfect shots of leaf bugs excreting honeydew – a sequence alone meriting viewership for the series – the team was simultaneously delving into the intricate complexities surrounding the fate of this extraordinary biodiversity.
Their research personnel engaged extensively with Malagasy conservation scientist Rio Heriniaina, facilitating dialogues with local community leaders to understand the obstacles they encountered and the underlying causes of the precipitous deforestation observed in the region.
However, none of this compelling behind-the-scenes material ultimately made it into the final edit. Following a segment depicting the mating rituals of the fossa, viewers are informed that their forest habitat has since been incinerated. This destruction was already occurring in 2015. As Heriniaina himself articulated:
The dry forests of Madagascar are rapidly disappearing before our very eyes. Each burning season, vast tracts of woodland are consumed by flames to make way for peanut and corn cultivation. There isn’t a singular explanation for this phenomenon, nor are the solutions straightforward. While poverty is a contributing factor, so too are corruption and the influence wielded by powerful individuals who profit from this environmental devastation.
This observation forms the crux of my primary critique of Our Planet. Despite being advertised as a candid exploration of the perils faced by the intricate and endlessly fascinating ecosystems being showcased, the series appears to predominantly skirt the direct depiction of these threats. More critically, it tends to eschew addressing the crucial question of potential resolutions.
Consistent with previous documentary styles, visual compositions have been meticulously arranged to exclude any evidence of human impact.
A ghost ship off the coast of Peru, home to the biggest fishery on the planet, has become an unlikely nesting site for guanay cormorants and Peruvian boobies. (Hugh Pearson/Silverback/Netflix)
Throughout my three decades of observing wildlife documentaries, a solitary instance stands out where this convention was deviated from. In Simon Reeve’s 2012 series examining the Indian Ocean, he incorporated individuals residing within and around the natural environments he was documenting, thus humanizing the narrative.
He also addressed frankly the limited scope of the picturesque natural habitats he was filming. During a memorable sequence featuring a sifaka leaping between trees, he instructed the cameraman to pivot, revealing the expansive sisal plantations that encircled the diminutive forest remnant where innumerable film crews converge to capture footage of these charismatic lemurs.
The release of Planet Earth II in 2016 was met with disappointment due to a perceived regression to the familiar – the same forest fragment in southern Madagascar reappeared, but conspicuously devoid of its contextual surroundings.
As with prior documentary productions, viewers might conclude from Our Planet that the depicted locales exist in complete isolation from human populations. The presence of people within and adjacent to many of these ecosystems has been systematically omitted.
However, for conservation initiatives to be effective, they fundamentally cannot disregard the human element.
Perhaps it is overly critical to voice dissatisfaction that Our Planet, much like its predecessors, avoids confronting the uncomfortable reality of the profound endangerment faced by so much of the natural world. It is conceivable that the unblemished and pristine depiction is precisely what contributes to their widespread appeal.
A considerable number of us engaged in conservation work were initially inspired by observing Sir David Attenborough’s earlier films during our childhoods. By introducing audiences to fascinating ecological principles (who would have imagined that desert winds nourish oceanic life?) and the astonishing behaviors of avian species (such as the manakins’ distinctive shuffle dance), Our Planet stands poised to captivate an entirely new generation.
Empirical research has repeatedly demonstrated that accumulating knowledge alone is insufficient to instigate behavioral change. Nevertheless, fostering a sense of connection with nature is demonstrably significant. One undeniable outcome of this series will be its capacity to inspire deep affection for our planet.
This, unequivocally, is a positive development. 
Julia P G Jones, Professor of Conservation Science, Bangor University.
