The world recently mourned the passing of Jane Goodall, the iconic primatologist and ethologist, who left us on October 1 at the age of 91. Known globally for her pioneering work chronicling the lives of chimpanzees in East Africa, Goodall’s groundbreaking research, captured in her films and books, profoundly reshaped both the field of primatology and public perception of our closest relatives in the animal kingdom. In her later years, she dedicated herself passionately to conservation and climate action, earning prestigious honors like being named a Dame in 2003 and receiving the U.S. Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2025.
Living Among Chimpanzees
Born in London in 1934, Jane Goodall’s fascination with animals began early, nurtured by books such as Tarzan and The Story of Dr. Doolittle. A stuffed chimpanzee named Jubilee, a gift from her father, remained a cherished companion throughout her life, symbolizing her lifelong connection to these remarkable creatures.
In her mid-twenties, Goodall embarked on a journey to Kenya, where she met the renowned archaeologist Louis Leakey. Despite lacking formal scientific training, Leakey recognized her innate talent and passion, sending her to Gombe in 1960. It was there, in the Gombe Stream Chimpanzee Reserve (now Gombe Stream National Park), that Goodall began her legendary studies. At a time when scientific rigor often meant controlled experiments and brief field observations, Goodall chose an unconventional path. She committed to extended periods of immersion, meticulously documenting the daily activities, intricate social bonds, and even conflicts among the chimpanzees. Her decision to name individual chimpanzees, rather than assigning them numbers—giving us beloved figures like “David Greybeard” and “Flo”—was a radical departure from scientific norms, emphasizing their unique personalities and challenging the cold objectivity of the era.
Her research quickly garnered global attention, notably through a 37-page feature in National Geographic magazine in 1963, which included captivating visuals by Dutch photographer Hugo van Lawick, whom she married the following year. Their son, Hugo Eric Louis van Lawick, affectionately nicknamed Grub, was born three years later. Jane later remarried Derek Bryceson, the director of Tanzania’s national parks.
Goodall’s extraordinary patience in Gombe, spending months habituating the chimpanzees to her presence, led to her first monumental discovery: chimpanzees not only used tools but also fashioned them to extract termites from mounds. Published in Nature in 1964, this observation shattered the long-held belief that tool use was an exclusively human trait.
Beyond scientific challenges, Goodall frequently spoke about the difficulties she faced as a woman in a male-dominated field. “I had no training, I had no degree — and I was female! Women didn’t do that kind of thing in those days,” she once remarked. She consistently credited her mother, Vanne, for her unwavering emotional and practical support. Her pioneering work undoubtedly opened doors for countless women in primatology, with figures like Dian Fossey and Birutė Galdikas publicly acknowledging her profound influence. In 1965, Goodall earned her Ph.D. in ethology from the University of Cambridge, a rare accomplishment given her lack of a prior undergraduate degree.
Forging Her Own Path
Jane Goodall’s career stands as a testament to transformative science, forever changing how we view primates and the boundaries between human and animal. Her influence extended far beyond academia, largely due to her unwavering long-term observations, her willingness to challenge established scientific conventions, and her tireless efforts in conservation and education.
In the 1970s, Goodall documented the startling “Gombe Chimpanzee War,” a period where one chimpanzee community violently split into factions. While unsettling to those who idealized chimpanzees as inherently peaceful, her honest documentation, which also included extensive accounts of reconciliation and grooming, presented a full and unbiased picture of their complex social repertoire, neither idealizing nor demonizing them.
Goodall’s remarkable ability to communicate her findings to vast audiences was a scientific strength, not merely a stylistic flair. Her bestselling books, including My Friends, the Wild Chimpanzees (1967), In the Shadow of Man (1971), and Through a Window (1990), alongside various films, galvanized public support for conservation and significantly funded ongoing research. Her later decades saw the establishment of crucial conservation initiatives: the Jane Goodall Institute in 1977 and the Roots & Shoots program in 1991, which have since championed education, habitat protection, and youth engagement across numerous countries.
Few 20th-century scientists achieved Goodall’s cultural stature. However, this very prominence also made her a subject of scholarly critique. Anthropologists, historians of science, and fellow primatologists frequently debated the implications of blending scientific observation with human narratives and advocacy. The most persistent criticism revolved around her anthropomorphic approach—assigning names, personalities, and even “moods” to the chimpanzees. This starkly contrasted with the numbering systems favored by her contemporaries, leading critics to argue that she risked projecting human traits onto ethological science. As historian Etienne Benson noted in 2016, her choices risked blurring critical scientific distinctions.
Birutė Galdikas, another pioneering primatologist, famously recalled in Reflections of Eden (1995): “Jane violated a scientific taboo by naming the chimpanzees she recognised rather than assigning them numbers. Part of the reason Jane did this was practical: names are easier to remember. But she also felt that … numbering chimpanzees robbed them of their individuality. … From the beginning, Jane was accused of anthropomorphising the chimpanzees of Gombe, treating them like family members or pets. The not-so-hidden message was that Jane was a typically sentimental female.” Yet, Galdikas concluded, “Jane blithely went her own way.”
A Legacy of Vigilance and Courage
The critiques of Goodall’s work, including her outspoken activism and even plagiarism allegations surrounding her 2013 book Seeds of Hope (which she acknowledged and corrected), were less about dismissing her contributions and more about ensuring that her celebrity did not exempt her from scientific scrutiny. The act of naming, narrating, provisioning, and advocating inherently introduces values and judgments into scientific inquiry. Goodall’s career powerfully demonstrated the impact of these approaches, while also highlighting the perpetual need for scientific vigilance.
Her legacy, therefore, presents both the immense promise and the inherent challenges of expanding scientific boundaries. As Galdikas eloquently stated, “If you don’t immerse yourself in your subjects’ world, you only gather facts and figures, a computerised image; if you do become involved, you’re accused of being unscientific. If you continue to study from a safe scientific distance subjects who are endangered, your time runs out.” To her credit, Goodall understood early on that valid criticism does not diminish the value of a pursuit. While she reportedly “didn’t give a hoot what they thought,” her courage profoundly inspired Galdikas, Dian Fossey, and many others, paving the way for discoveries that fundamentally reshaped humanity’s understanding of the animal world.