Takeaways from the IUCN Conservation Congress
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Azhar Mubarak, our Communications and Media Relations Specialist at the Mohamed bin Zayed Species Conservation Fund, was a familiar face at the recent IUCN Conservation Congress. With her passion for conservation, she was eager to soak up every moment and see what insights she could bring back to her role.
Last month, we had the chance to dive deeper into her journey, discovering how she got into conservation, what motivates her, and what life looks like outside the 9-to-5. If you want to learn more about her story, read the full interview here.
This time, we asked Azhar to share her perspective and top 10 takeaways from the IUCN Congress.
When I walked into the IUCN World Conservation Congress, I didn’t expect to be moved in the way I was. I came as a communicator, but I left as a listener, to nature, to people, to purpose. Every story I heard reminded me why I love what I do and why I believe that even words can protect the planet when they come from the heart. This is what I took with me, not just notes from sessions, but feelings, reflections and quiet lessons from a world trying to heal. Looking back, I wanted to gather the moments that shaped me most, the quiet lessons and realizations that reminded me why I do what I do.
When technology walks beside nature
Everywhere I looked, I saw technology taking new shapes, drones flying over mangrove nurseries, sensors floating quietly on ocean currents, satellites observing the delicate patterns of life from above. Yet the most powerful moments weren’t in the hum of machines, but in the faces of people working beside them. I saw hands covered in sand, tired smiles, and a deep sense of purpose. It reminded me that true innovation doesn’t replace nature, it listens to her. It finds ways to make progress feel human again. That’s what I admire about the conservation world: even in the most high-tech projects, the heart still beats with humility.
The quiet power of small things
In one session, someone said that a single, well-placed grant can change the destiny of a species. That line stayed with me. I thought about all the times small efforts, small acts, small teams, small ideas, grew into something extraordinary. It made me think of how every movement, no matter how global it becomes, begins with one spark. I left the session feeling proud to be part of an organization that believes in the power of the “small.” Because small doesn’t mean less, it means focused, sincere, and real.
Youth energy is a force of nature
There was something magnetic about watching young people speak, question and connect. Their energy filled the rooms like sunlight after rain, loud, honest and full of hope. I didn’t need to be on stage to feel part of it. Sometimes just witnessing courage can shift something inside you. It reminded me that my generation isn’t waiting for the future, we’re quietly building it one step at a time.
I also realized that not everyone needs to be in the field to make a difference. We each have our own way to serve the planet. Some protect it with science, others with art, with words or with care. Change does not begin in the forest or the ocean, it begins within us, in the choice to do something, however small, that keeps hope alive.
Stories are bridges, they connect us, heart to heart
I have always believed that stories have the power to travel further than science, and that belief only grew stronger at the Congress. Every time a researcher shared not just data but a memory, the sound of a bird, the smell of rain, the fear of losing something beautiful, the entire room changed. People leaned in. They cared.
It reminded me why I started the Tales of Conservation initiative this year, during the UAE’s Year of Community. Because somewhere, a story told to a child might grow into a lifetime of care.
But beyond that, I thought of where I come from, the Arabian Peninsula, where storytelling has always been the heartbeat of connection. For centuries, people gathered around the fire not just to pass time, but to pass wisdom, lessons carried by words, from generation to generation, like a flame that never fades. It’s how we’ve learned about kindness, resilience, and belonging.
Stories are what make us human. They cross languages, cultures, and time itself. They remind us that no matter where we are, or who we are, we are all part of the same conversation about life, loss, and hope.
The rhythm of nature teaches what speed never will
While listening to the speakers talk about dugongs, sea turtles and seagrass, I found my thoughts drifting to the world outside the conference walls. I imagined the quiet movement of the sea, the slow breathing of the mangroves, the rhythm of life that continues no matter how fast we move. Nature does not rush; it heals, adapts and restores with grace.
The desert teaches patience, the sea teaches balance and the mountains teach strength. I thought of how often we try to measure progress, forgetting that real growth takes time. Nature’s progress is not a headline, it is the coral that regrows, the tide that returns, the seed that dares to rise again. Even in a world obsessed with speed, the earth keeps its calm pace, steady, grounded and sure.
You can count trees, but not wonder
AI, drones and big data can measure almost everything. They can record how many trees grow; how fast coral recovers and how species move across the planet. But they can never capture the feeling of seeing a creature that almost vanished still standing under the sun. They cannot translate the silence of a forest after rain or the calm that comes from watching the sea breathe.
Some things in life are not meant to be measured; they are meant to be felt. That is what keeps us human in an age of machines, our ability to pause, to feel awe and to remember that progress means nothing if it forgets the beauty it was meant to protect.
Collaboration feels like harmony
In every story I heard, from raptor protection in Africa to mangrove restoration in Asia, one message kept returning, no one can do this alone. Collaboration is not only a strategy, but also the rhythm that keeps conservation alive. It is people from different places and cultures standing side by side because they care about the same fragile things.
I was moved by how natural it felt, strangers smiling, helping, translating, sharing. It reminded me of how my own country was built, through cooperation and unity. Teamwork is not only about tasks, but also about trust, shared belief and patience. It is the quiet comfort of knowing that somewhere far away, someone carries the same hope you hold close to your heart.
Success cannot always be written, sometimes it is felt
Many sessions spoke about measuring impact, yet what stayed with me was not the reports but the people. Their eyes lit up when they talked about the species they saved, the forests they restored, the hope they carried. That is what impact truly is, not in data but in devotion.
Real success lives in the small moments no one records, a smile after years of effort, a species returning home, a volunteer planting one more tree. It is carried quietly in hearts and memories, in the knowledge that something beautiful continues to grow because someone refused to give up.
The quiet strength of women and wisdom of Indigenous voices
One of the most powerful moments for me was hearing Indigenous women talk about protecting their homelands, not as activists, but as caretakers of memory and meaning. Their voices were calm but unshakable. They reminded me that strength doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it listens. Sometimes it nurtures. It made me reflect on the women I know, my colleagues and friends who carry the same kind of strength in quieter, everyday ways.
Hope is not a feeling, it is a choice
The Congress ended with stories of communities who protect wildlife corridors, plant trees and rebuild what was lost. What touched me most was not their success but their persistence. They kept going even when it was hard, even when no one was watching. I realized that hope is not a feeling you wait for, it is a decision you make every morning. To show up, to care, to keep doing the work because the world needs people who believe in better tomorrows.
Final Reflection
When I look back at those days, what stays with me is not the sessions or the presentations but the feeling of connection. Being surrounded by people who care deeply about the planet reminded me of the values I was raised with in Abu Dhabi, where respect for nature is part of who we are. I felt proud to stand in my own city, representing my country, and to see how far our voice has reached in the world of conservation and the protection of nature. I left the Congress more patient, more grounded, and more certain that even from here, in the heart of the UAE, our stories and actions can help shape a better, kinder future for the planet we all share.