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The year before we launched The Narwhal, Emma Gilchrist and I sought the advice of a pollster who asked us an intriguing question about the, well, soul of the publication we wanted to bring to life:

“If these folks were throwing a party, what kind of party would it be? Would you want to be there?”

I still find value in revisiting this question and I’m drawn to it again today as we celebrate The Narwhal’s seventh birthday. Seven! I know!

The party question was just the kind of thought experiment we needed at a moment when we were preoccupied with the fear of audiences tuning out from the onslaught of bad news about the environment. Our thinking was informed by the work of social psychologists, who warned that messengers of sustained fear and gloom run the risk of becoming nothing more than background noise.

So, forcing ourselves to think through the concept of a new environment-focused publication in Canada through the lens of party-making felt not only refreshing, but entirely on point.

What kind of celebratory vibescape could The Narwhal whip up that would make people want to join the party? Who would want to be there and why?

It’s not a flippant question. The fact is people are less likely to read the news now than when we launched The Narwhal in 2018. 

People aren’t just overwhelmed by the news, they’re actively avoiding it because it feels too distressing, too complicated or too irrelevant, according to new research from the Reuters Institute, a journalism think tank. And news consumption is also becoming increasingly fragmented as audiences take in their news on major social media platforms, rather than from publications themselves.What’s more, tech companies like Meta can choose on a dime to block news from audiences, as has happened to The Narwhal and every other news provider in Canada that operates on Facebook or Instagram.These trends are even more distressing when placed alongside the rise in AI-generated information, shorter attention spans, plummeting trust in news and the power of fear and anger in supercharging political paradigms.

So, the question seems more important now than ever: how do we get the people to The Narwhal’s party?

The Narwhal was launched as an ambitious remedy to the growing disengagement between people and the journalists who are meant to serve them. We believed then — as we believe now — that there is an appetite for high-quality journalism that draws an eager public back into the conversation about the natural world in Canada. Yet for a long time we operated on a premise of “if we build it they will come.” Now we’re watching the weather vanes — and we’re trying new things to meet audiences where they are at. 

Much work has gone into strategizing around how we do this best without losing the signature elements of The Narwhal’s young brand. Readers across Canada and beyond know The Narwhal for our in-depth features, on-the-ground photo essays (like Amber Bracken’s award-winner) and context-rich explainers you won’t see anywhere else. That work isn’t going out the door; it’s the kind of high-quality, independent journalism we’re doing even more of today than ever before.Our journalists have done incredibly impactful work investigating everything from misconduct allegations at a beloved conservation organization to Alberta’s sudden pause on new renewable energy projects to Ontario’s cuts to the Greenbelt protected area (cuts that were reversed in no small part because of our tenacious reporting). 

We’ve also been consistently dedicated to drawing out the solutions emerging from the heart of some of our deepest challenges. From scientists hand-harvesting seeds of endangered trees, to communities transforming our relationships with forests, to outfitting teeny birds with even teenier backpacks — our team is building up a body of reporting that tells the critical stories of creativity and resilience we need in this moment.

But there is more work to be done from our team to translate our journalism into the accessible and digestible formats news consumers now expect. 

For the last three years we’ve begun to dream in earnest (see chaotic whiteboard circa 2021 below) about the possibility of bringing a full-time video producer and a full-time web developer to The Narwhal.

This past January that dream came to life. (A huge thank you is owed to our monthly and yearly members, who are the force behind these kinds of dreams turning into reality.) And now, for our seventh birthday, we’re unveiling an elegant new video carousel on our homepage. You’ll find repackaged and repurposed versions of our reporting in snazzy video format, designed to bring simplified snapshots of our work to broader audiences that we can deliver on diverse platforms. 

The bigger challenge of building and strengthening direct relationships with our readers also lies ahead. When Meta pulled the rug out from under our Facebook and Instagram feeds, our team responded in kind by doubling down on our efforts to drive newsletter sign-ups — and thousands of you decided to join The Narwhal newsletter party, hundreds more as members. That work, I’m proud to say, won our audience team an Institute for Nonprofit News innovation award for pivoting to productive audience-building tactics amidst a devastating blow for news organizations across the country. 

Our newsletter, with more than 100,000 subscribers and growing, is our most direct and intimate line of contact between our journalists and you, our readers. It’s where you’ll hear how we chased down documents, secretive owners of defunct oil and gas companies and wildlife in misty landscapes. Last year, this weekly newsletter won gold from the Digital Publishing Awards for best product of its kind. And because we want it to feel like a party, it comes with a little levity and a lot of animal gifs. 

A big benefit to us? Readers like you who get a weekly dose of The Narwhal’s storytelling in their inbox are way more likely to make the leap to become members. As a non-profit publication that doesn’t run ads or put up a paywall, those donations are essential to support our 27 staff, and countless freelancers, dedicated to bringing you stories that matter.

We started The Narwhal because we wanted to build a public-interest journalism organization that people not only wanted to read and support but belong to. Ultimately, our members are the lodestone that holds this organization together as we pivot, strategize and grow. As we navigate the challenge of a shifting news environment and evolving media consumption habits, you’re going to see us evolve, too. One thing that’ll always remain steadfast? Our commitment to being a trusted source for news on the natural world you won’t find anywhere else.

Here’s to our next seven years, and many more.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.