In Trust: A Framework for Animal Representation
How Animal Trusteeship Offers a Path Toward Justice for Those Without a Voice
“Now who will be the one to go and speak in our name…? Who will defend us, not with violence, but with words expressing our right to life?”
— Lion, King of Carnivores, in The Animals’ Lawsuit Against Humanity (Laytner et al., 2005, p. 36)
Centuries ago, a profound allegory imagined a world where animals, pushed to the brink by human tyranny, sought justice. In The Animals’ Lawsuit Against Humanity, a 10th-century tale whose themes resonate with striking urgency even now, their plea to the Spirit King was not merely for mercy, but for recognition. They demanded to be seen, heard, and considered — not as property, but as fellow beings with lives and interests of their own.
In this remarkable story, the animals do more than lament — they organize. Within their distinct communities — carnivores, water creatures, grazers, insects, and others — they confer, articulate shared concerns, and carefully select individuals to represent their arguments before the divine court. These chosen representatives bear the weight of expressing what matters most to those they speak for, how the humans’ actions affect them, and what justice means to them and their communities.
With Lion choosing Dragon to represent the carnivores at court, Phoenix appointing Nightingale as spokes-bird, and Queen Bee’s willingness to accept the role herself, we glimpse an imaginative model for something our governance systems desperately lack. These representatives are not “animal advocates” in the usual sense, but genuine fiduciaries, entrusted to act in the best interests of those they represent.
In the story we see the earliest documented glimmer of what could be in our world today: an animal trustee, someone carefully chosen to give voice to a certain group of animals in human-dominated forums where their interests would otherwise go unheard, yet where decisions are made that profoundly shape their existence, from basic survival to possibilities for flourishing.
From Imagination to Implementation
The Animals’ Lawsuit has endured across centuries. As an interfaith, multicultural tale that has been translated into numerous languages, it reveals familiar truths about our relationships with other animals — often dark and uncomfortable ones. But in the story animals are given voice, organization, and representation. That is what makes it compelling, even hopeful. It invites us to imagine what justice might look like, if only those without a voice could speak.
Sadly, this imaginative vision starkly contrasts with our reality. Individual relationships with and perceptions of animals vary among humans, but our collective decisions — codified in laws and policies — determine the fates of countless wild animals. The impacts are profound, ranging from direct and lethal actions like state-sponsored predator control to insidious outcomes such as development erasing habitats and severing vital migration corridors. Whether targeted or simply disregarded, the interests, desires, and wellbeing of these animals are rarely considered and routinely overridden in the human choices that ultimately govern their existence.
This isn’t just a case of advocacy falling short. It’s a structural failure — an absence of roles specifically designed to represent animals directly, clearly, and without conflict.
Where Existing Structures Fall Short
Conservation’s Collective Focus
Consider traditional conservation and environmental organizations. Their work generally stems from an ecocentric paradigm, which prioritizes the perceived health of populations, species, or ecosystems over the lives and wellbeing of individual animals affected by specific policies. Populations and ecosystems are unquestionably vital. Yet, this focus on a notion of a collective good often leads to methods that harm individual animals and undermine their capacities to flourish.
This shows up in conservation practices world-wide: the lethal removal of “invasive” animals (from introduced rats on islands to non-native primates in forest reserves); the “population management” of native species deemed too abundant through culling programs (from elephants in South African reserves to deer in North American suburbs to kangaroos in Australian grasslands); and the targeted elimination of “problem animals” — carnivores like tigers, bears or wolves who interact with farmed animals or human settlements across every inhabited continent.
The Limits of Advocacy
Wildlife advocates generally center individual animal wellbeing more directly than conservationists. Yet, even when focused on protecting animals from harmful policies, they face significant structural constraints and inherent conflicts of interest.
Imagine a familiar scene: an advocacy organization’s website displays a striking image of wolves nestled together, with one looking directly at the camera, alongside a bold “Fight Back for Wolves!” call-to-action above a prominent “DONATE” button. The mandate appears straightforward, but the reality is far more complex.
Wolf conservation is one global example. As wolves recover in various regions — from the northern United States to parts of Europe — advocacy groups find themselves negotiating with powerful agricultural, hunting, and development interests, alongside government agencies whose mandates often prioritize human economic concerns and support special-interest groups over wildlife protection. In these contentious settings, where power imbalances are stark, concessions become seemingly unavoidable.
To secure even minimal protections — such as funding for non-lethal deterrents or stricter protocols for intervention — advocates may ultimately accept management plans that still permit killing wolves under certain circumstances. We may disagree about whether such compromise is justified as preventing worse outcomes or maintaining influence in the process. But either way, such reasoning offers little consolation to the wolves purposefully tortured and killed under the very policies their advocates helped shape.
The problem is one of competing priorities; compromises stem from the demand faced by wildlife advocacy organizations that must navigate complex political landscapes, satisfy diverse stakeholders, maintain donor relationships, and balance competing organizational demands. These inherent pressures severely limit their abilities to provide unconflicted, single-minded representation focused exclusively on the animals’ interests and wellbeing.
Rethinking Wildlife “Management”
Wildlife management authorities sometimes claim to represent the interests of wild animals; however, their role is fundamentally defined by human-centered mandates — managing resources for human use, facilitating recreational hunting, supporting economic development, and responding to political pressures.
Moreover, their primary duty is to serve these multifaceted public interests by managing animal populations as resources — not to represent the intrinsic interests or support the wellbeing of the animals themselves. This institutional limitation is inherent in governance systems worldwide, from wildlife services in North America to conservation authorities in Africa to natural resource ministries in Asia, and beyond.
Indigenous Perspectives and Fiduciary Gaps
Indigenous nations and traditional knowledge holders offer diverse and valuable perspectives on human-animal relations, with some embracing worldviews that recognize kinship with animals and interconnectedness with the natural world. There is no singular belief system across or within indigenous communities. But like all human societies and institutions, they must navigate their own complex web of competing interests. And while many indigenous voices are essential in wildlife governance globally, from the Arctic to the Amazon, from the Australian outback to the African savanna, they ultimately represent human communities grappling with multifaceted needs, internal disagreements, political pressures, and diverse accountabilities. Thus, their role — however ecologically informed — is fundamentally distinct from, and cannot substitute for, dedicated fiduciary representation focused on particular animal communities.
A Structural Gap in Need of a Bridge
There is a pattern here that transcends borders and cultures. Whether guided by ecocentric principles, constrained by advocacy realities, bound by human-centric government mandates, or responsible to broader human communities, no existing entity is structurally positioned to provide dedicated, unconflicted fiduciary representation for wild animals in the policymaking arena. This critical void has left animals systematically vulnerable. Animal trusteeship offers a new approach, a bridge across that gap — one that can be adapted across legal and cultural contexts to meet this unmet need.
Animal Trusteeship: Many Roots, One Goal
The idea of animal trusteeship emerged organically, not in one place or moment. It took shape at PAN Works through layered conversations, diverse perspectives, and a shared concern for animals whose interests are too often left out of human decisions. Our early discussions explored how trusteeship might offer a new way of thinking about responsibility and representation in wildlife governance. In particular, we examined and ultimately challenged the public trust doctrine — a legal framework that treats wildlife as property held for the benefit of the human public, not as beings with their own standing or stake.
When a legal perspective entered the conversation, the vision began to expand. One of us (Kris) asked the question: What if, instead of relying on doctrines that define animals as resources, we turned to private trust law — specifically the pet trust statutes now active in all 50 U.S. states? These statutes allow animals to be named as beneficiaries of enforceable legal trusts. What if we extended that idea — appointing trustees with clear fiduciary duties to represent the interests of wild and other vulnerable animals in decisions that affect their lives?
This idea opened a new path. Our thinking on animal trusteeship continued to evolve as we challenged one another, tested assumptions, and deepened the conversation. We came to see that trusteeship is not only a legal possibility — it’s a moral commitment. A person can become a trustee for animals not just by being named in a document, but by stepping forward with knowledge, grounding, and a centered focus on the animals’ interests.
While the legal potential of animal trusteeship is powerful — and still unfolding — a broader vision has grown alongside it. Animal trusteeship is not a single model, but a plural and evolving practice. In some contexts, it may take the form of a formal trust instrument. In others, it may develop as an ethical role shaped by expertise and conscience. What unites these pathways is a shared foundation: animals deserve dedicated, unconflicted representation — and trusteeship offers a compelling way to ensure their voices are present where decisions are made.
What Makes Trusteeship Different
Animal trusteeship is not conventional advocacy, and it’s not traditional wildlife management. It is something distinct — defined by a fiduciary duty to act solely in the best interests of the animals represented.
Unlike advocacy organizations, which often balance multiple missions and constituencies, a trustee is not accountable to a board, a membership, or a donor base. Their only obligation is to the animal beneficiaries they represent. This eliminates structural conflicts of interest and allows for clarity of purpose — especially in contentious policy environments where compromise may come at the animals’ expense.
Unlike guardianship, which typically applies to dependent humans and implies a degree of subordination, trusteeship can be adapted to respect the autonomy and ecological embeddedness of wild animals.
And unlike the public trust doctrine — which treats animals as the res of the trust rather than its beneficiaries — animal trusteeship recognizes animals not as property to be managed, but as beings whose interests deserve moral consideration and actual representation.
Whether moral or legal in form, animal trusteeship offers a sharper tool. It is a framework specifically designed to center animal wellbeing, free from competing institutional priorities or human-centered mandates. It’s a model of responsibility, not ownership — one that creates space for animals to be represented as they are, not as symbols of broader human values.
Ethical Trusteeship in Action: The Wolves’ Trustee
This foundation, in practice, can take many shapes. One of the clearest expressions of animal trusteeship came in 2024, during the National Wolf Conversation — a multi-year stakeholder dialogue commissioned by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The process brought together hunters, ranchers, tribal representatives, conservationists, and other human interests. But one voice was still missing: someone to speak for the wolves themselves.
Bill Lynn, PAN Works’ founder and president, stepped into that gap. He took on the role of the wolves’ trustee — guided not by institutional mandate, but by a fiduciary commitment to the animals’ wellbeing. This marked the first time, to our knowledge, that someone served as a formal trustee for wild animals in a stakeholder process initiated by the US government.
Grounded in science and ethics, and answerable only to the wolves, Bill’s presence transformed the dialogue. His consistent framing, centered on the wolves’ interests, disrupted assumptions, clarified tensions, and ensured that the wolves’ needs could not be sidelined or silenced.
Looking Ahead: The Legal Promise of Animal Trusteeship
Ethical trusteeship offers a powerful way to bring animal interests into decision-making spaces. But in some contexts, particularly where legal standing, funding, or long-term continuity are at stake, a more formal structure may be needed. That’s where legal trusteeship comes in.
Pet trust statutes already allow companion animals to be named as trust beneficiaries, and trustees to be empowered not just to spend trust funds on their care, but to act as guardians and caregivers in ways that are specified in the trust documents. This groundwork has opened the door to exploring how similar legal instruments might be used to represent wild animals and other vulnerable animals whose lives are shaped by human decisions. In a legal trust, the trustee’s duties are not just moral; they are binding. The terms of the trust specify exactly which animals are to be represented, under what conditions, and with what obligations.
This approach doesn’t replace ethical trusteeship — it builds on it. By codifying the relationship between trustee and animal beneficiaries, legal trusts can create enforceable duties, reduce ambiguity, and potentially open the door to legal standing in courts or regulatory processes.
A more detailed exploration of this legal pathway, including practical examples and design considerations, will be the focus of another essay to follow shortly.
Expanding the Vision
While this essay has focused on wild animals, the principles of animal trusteeship are not limited by species or setting. The same structural void — where animals are affected by human policy but lack dedicated representation — exists across many domains. Farmed animals subject to industrial agriculture and failed welfare regulations, research animals in laboratories, working animals in service industries, and urban wildlife targeted for “management” all share a common reality — their interests are systematically overlooked in policy forums that determine their fates.
The fiduciary framework established through animal trusteeship can be adapted to these varied contexts. Imagine trustees speaking for dairy cows in agricultural policy, elephants in tourism regulation, horses in transportation ordinances, or primates in research ethics reviews. In each case, the core principle remains the same: unconflicted, knowledgeable representation centered on the animals’ wellbeing.
In Trust
In the ancient allegory that opened this essay, Lion turns to Dragon and says: “For the honor of us carnivores, go and represent us. Be careful with your words, and return with justice served. We are depending on you in trust.” (Laytner et al., 2005, p. 37)
That line, spoken centuries ago in a fable, captures the heart of animal trusteeship today. It is a role based on care, merit, and responsibility. It is an act of trust. And whether carried out through ethical commitment or legal instrument, it answers the same question Lion asked: Who will speak for those who cannot speak for themselves?
The task now is to bring that imaginative truth into our policymaking structures — not just symbolically, but meaningfully. Animal trusteeship offers a way to do just that.
References
Laytner, A., Bridge, D. E., & Kaufmann, M. (2005). The animals’ lawsuit against humanity: a modern adaptation of an ancient animal rights tale. Fons Vitae.
Kristin L. Stewart, JD, PhD, is an attorney and scholar whose work focuses on animal law, policy, and ethics. She is an adjunct professor in the Anthrozoology Master’s Program at Canisius College and a founding board member of PAN Works.
Dr. Liv Baker, PhD, is a conservation behaviorist and expert in wild animal wellbeing. She is Chair of the Board of PAN Works, Research Director at Mahouts Elephant Foundation, and teaches at Sarah Lawrence College. Her work focuses on compassionate conservation and the ways animals shape their own lives and communities.
Nicole Roberts is the Associate Editor for PAN Works and provided editorial support for this essay.
Please visit PAN Works for more about our work on ethics and animal wellbeing.
