Jane Goodall was known around the world for her important work as a primatologist and conservationist, but it was her human qualities – deep empathy, steely composure and unwavering hopefulness – that some Globe readers recalled following her death on Oct. 1. Here are some reflections on Goodall’s message and her legacy, shared by Globe readers. Submissions have been edited for clarity and length.
Jane Goodall in San Francisco on April 28, 1983.Susan Gilbert/The Associated Press
Ingrid Leman Stefanovic, Professor Emerita, University of Toronto
“I try to take the peace of the jungle wherever I go.”
These were Dr. Jane Goodall’s words as we sat together years ago in the “green room,” the private area provided to celebrities prior to their public lectures at Convocation Hall at the University of Toronto.
I was honoured to have been hosting Dr. Jane once again. But we were behind schedule, simply because the crowds were so large that it was becoming impossible to seat everyone on time. I was flustered and apologetic about the delay – and her response was to ask her staff to leave us alone and invite me to sit down. Within a few moments of her chatting with me, my heart rate and blood pressure went down, and I was visibly relaxing. I smiled and thanked her for reducing my stress and helping me to reclaim some composure. Her quiet, unassuming response about the peace of the jungle stayed with me for all of these years.
The reason that I had the privilege of hosting the event was because in 2006, Gail Grolimond, former head of the Jane Goodall Institute Canada, had approached me with a proposal to transfer the organization’s headquarters from Montreal to the University of Toronto’s Centre for Environmental Studies (now the School of the Environment) where I was serving as director.
I recognized an opportunity to ensure that JGI Canada could have a home in Toronto, Canada’s largest city, at a university where students would be guaranteed a regular, inspirational visit from one of the greatest representatives of peace and environmental protection in the world.
Jane Goodall plays with Bahati, a three year-old female chimpanzee, at the Sweetwaters Chimpanzee Sanctuary near Nanyuki, north of Nairobi, on Dec. 6, 1997.JEAN-MARC BOUJU/The Associated Press
Helping to establish JGI Canada at U of T was one of the best initiatives that I undertook in any of my university administrative roles. Another was supporting Simon Fraser University’s conferral of an honorary degree for Dr. Jane while I was dean at its Faculty of Environment.
I have been fortunate to host other internationally renowned dignitaries in my earlier administrative roles. None of these events were as impactful to me as my involvement in helping to advance the mission of JGI Canada. Dr. Jane herself was the most modest celebrity I have ever met. Her humility, her dedication to youth, to the wellbeing of this planet, to a mission of kindness and care, were inspirational to me and everyone she encountered. I was hardly surprised when then-U.S. president Joe Biden conferred to Dr. Jane the Presidential Medal of Freedom in January, 2025.
At a time when insults, rage, anger, divisiveness and violence seem to dominate the world stage, it is worth stopping to celebrate this extraordinary woman who managed to balance so effortlessly celebrity, intellectual rigour, moral integrity – and kindness. Her desire to draw from both the heart and the mind, to care for every living being, to engage youth as change makers, and to inspire care towards one another and towards the earth, deserves to be celebrated now as never before.
Dr. Goodall is no longer able to physically engage her unforgettable howl of chimpanzee friends, as she used to do on stage with the audience, and to calmly, movingly, inspire care toward one another and toward the earth through her words. But her legacy of kindness and grace can define each of us if we remember her goodness and keep her message of peace in the jungle close.
Oliver Anderson, Ottawa
Jane Goodall stood as a towering figure in the environmental movement – like a saint already canonized among the pantheon of world-saving heroes – when I became director of communications to the Minister of Environment and Climate Change in 2022.
News of her death reminded me of her lesser-known qualities: her deep connection to Canada and the strong, steely composure that lay behind the frame of that sweet older woman.
It was in Sudbury, Ont., in July of 2022, that I met the person behind that legendary reputation, someone who unflinchingly stared down a hostile faction within a large crowd in order to rally everyone around her strong message of hope.
She was there to make a film with IMAX called Reasons for Hope about the city’s incredible regreening program, which she had helped launch 20 years earlier.
Tree by tree, the area surrounding Sudbury transformed from a moonscape – so ravaged from years of extractive mining that NASA astronauts arrived to train there – back into a thriving natural environment.
Jane Goodall takes the hand of a Spider Monkey during her visit to the Rehabilitation Center and Primate Rescue in Peñaflor, Chile, in November, 2013.HECTOR RETAMAL/AFP/Getty Images
Our visit, alongside then-prime minister Justin Trudeau and environment and climate change minister Steven Guilbeault, celebrated that achievement by planting the 10-millionth tree.
The tree-planting ceremony was held in a park with more than 1,000 in attendance, including a boisterous group of protesters displaying signs aligned with QAnon and anti-vaccine sentiments.
These protesters were determined to disrupt the ceremony and hurled profane-laden comments at the prime minister and Mr. Guilbeault, who did their best to talk over them.
When Dr. Goodall came to the podium, she took an entirely different approach. She began, “Alright, I see your signs, we will listen to what you have to say.”
The protesters responded by shouting more obscenities, and Dr. Goodall, having proven they were not interested in any kind of meaningful dialogue, just said, “Right …”, instantly bringing the crowd to her side. The tactic worked: The protesters were shouted down and this remarkable woman took charge.
Dr. Goodall’s speech, delivered in a soft voice and without notes, was electrifying. She spoke about the example this Canadian mining town gave to the world for the reclamation of nature. She spoke about giving the next generation hope in tackling the big environmental challenges. And she spoke about the encouragement her mother was to her in the pursuit of her dreams.
In a subsequent private meeting, she said it was young people who gave her the strength to keep going. I will never forget the power of her steady, soft voice reminding everyone of their better angels and inspiring everyone toward her message of hope for our natural world.
Peter L. Biro, Chair Emeritus of the Jane Goodall Global Institute, with Jane Goodall.Peter Biro/Supplied
Peter L. Biro, Chair Emeritus, Jane Goodall Institute Global
“Hello Elizabeth, this is Jane Goodall. I know how you’ve always loved animals and I’m just wanting to wish you luck on your next exciting journey. It’s a journey I look forward to because of what I think I will discover. I look forward to meeting you, as they say, on the other side. Travel well and good luck.” Jane recorded this message in the summer of 2024 during a rare and well-earned time-out at our cottage near Parry Sound, Ont.
I had mentioned that a friend was scheduled to end her life by medical assistance in dying two days henceforth. Jane inquired about Elizabeth’s life and then asked if I thought she would appreciate receiving a video-recorded sendoff. Before I could answer, Jane grabbed my iPhone and began recording her message which I then sent to Elizabeth. Within 48 hours, Elizabeth was carried away on the wings of Jane’s congratulatory – almost envious – au revoir.
Last week, Jane’s own journey took her to “the other side” where, I can only assume, she is making wondrous and astonishing discoveries.
Jane Goodall visits Parliament Hill in April, 2009, to announce a partnership between the Jane Goodall Institute and the Assembly of First Nations, bringing the Roots & Shoots global youth action program to First Nations communities across Canada.Sean Kilpatrick/The Canadian Press
I last saw Jane just weeks ago in Toronto. Then, as always, we lamented the sorry state of humanity before rejoicing in the inspiring ways in which young people around the world are making a positive difference through initiatives like Roots & Shoots, a program Jane had pioneered decades earlier, which was unquestionably her proudest achievement.
When we got together, we would always engage – over moderate quantities of Scotch – in ritualistic banter wherein Jane would chide me for my pessimistic outlook about the future of humanity and remind me that there is ample “reason for hope,” to which I would reply that hope is not the same as optimism. Hope is not expectation but rather the knowledge that we have the power to cause things to go well through acts of courage, kindness and ingenuity. Jane was the living embodiment of this insight.
Jane was an idealist in her soul and a pragmatist in her methods. She was animated by what Hannah Arendt had described as “amor mundi” – love of the world. And like Arendt, Jane understood that to love the world was to forgive, though not accept, the unforgivable and to engage in good faith with one’s detractors. If we could not manage to do this, she believed, we would never actualize humanity’s highest potentialities.
Jane’s activism was not rooted in the certainty that characterizes so much of contemporary activism, but in moral clarity and love of nature. She was, above all else, humble and she had little patience for moralizers and virtue-signalers.
Jane’s humility enabled her to pursue change not by preaching or vilifying but, as she put it, “by listening and then starting a dialogue with people who are doing something you don’t believe is right.”
I will miss my friend, but I know that she departed feeling hopeful. We must now make it our own cause and mission to vindicate Jane’s hopefulness.
Chris Westdal, Ottawa
One evening 53 years ago, off the coast of Tanzania, where I was then working, I swamped my sailing dinghy a mile or so offshore. I tried many times to right it, but its rigging was tangled and I was having no luck. It was getting late and dark, the wind and waves were picking up and I was getting scared. To my relief, a little cabin cruiser appeared on the horizon. I waved my arms in distress and it came to help me.
Over its stern, the first face I saw was of a young woman’s, with as beautiful a smile as ever I’ve seen in all my life. It was Jane Goodall who rescued me. I’ve since thought, I know a bit about how chimpanzees feel about her.
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