The Life and Legacy of Jane Goodall

Honourable senators, it is with deep emotion and sincere respect that I rise today to speak on Inquiry No. 5, calling the attention of the Senate to the life and legacy of Jane Goodall.

I would like to thank my friend Senator Klyne for inviting us to consider her remarkable journey. Today, I wish not only to recall Jane Goodall’s achievements, but also to emphasize the example she leaves us and how, through concrete actions, we can honour her memory.

Jane Goodall did much more than study chimpanzees. She transformed the moral landscape of science. When she arrived in Gombe in 1960, with no formal scientific training, few could have predicted that she would redefine an entire discipline, and yet that is exactly what she did.

At a time when animals were referred to by numbers, she chose to give them names: David Greybeard, Flo, Fifi. What seemed like a small gesture was actually revolutionary. By naming them, she affirmed their individuality. She challenged the idea that scientific objectivity required emotional distance from other beings on planet Earth. She demonstrated that scientific rigour and compassion are not opposites — they are allies.

Scientists were surprised by her approach. It was a first; we had never named our study subjects before. However, we give names to all our pets. I’m sure you’ll recognize that you all do it too. I have two cats, and each of them has a distinct personality and preferences. One adores me, while the other avoids me.

We even give names to trees, flowers and plants. I have a collection of 50 orchids at home and I’ve given them names. The oldest of my orchids is 38 years old. Can you believe it? I’m sure that you have children that age.

Her discoveries that chimpanzees use tools, express emotions, maintain social bonds and transmit culture forced humanity to reconsider its place in the natural world.

When informed of her findings, Louis Leakey famously told her that we must now redefine “tool” and redefine “human” or accept chimpanzees as humans. That moment symbolized a profound shift: The boundary we had drawn between ourselves and the rest of life was far thinner than we had imagined.

But her greatest contribution may not have been scientific. As you can see, it was ethical and moral. Jane Goodall reminded us that we are not separate from nature — we are a part of it. This idea, simple yet transformative, is the foundation of environmental responsibility. If we are part of the natural world, then harming it is self-harm. Protecting it is self-preservation.

She did not remain in the forest. She stepped into the world. In 1977, she founded the Jane Goodall Institute, pioneering a community-centred approach to conservation that recognized that protecting ecosystems requires partnering with local people, especially women and youth.

Later, in 1991, she created Roots & Shoots, empowering young people in more than 75 countries to take action in their own communities. This is the model that Dr. Jane Goodall leaves us: science grounded in empathy, conservation rooted in community, hope translated into action.

Colleagues, we must ask ourselves what it means to honour such a legacy in this chamber. It cannot mean only words. It must mean something more concrete in actions. Jane Goodall believed that small actions multiplied millions of times create transformative change. As legislators, our small actions are votes, amendments, committee studies and budget decisions.

I heard our budget, and I’m not happy with the ratio between people and senators. We can make it more efficient.

Multiplied across time and across this country, these actions shape the destiny of ecosystems and generations to come.

To honour her memory is to embed intergenerational responsibility into our governance. It means strengthening environmental accountability mechanisms so that, for example, climate targets are not only aspirations but obligations. It means ensuring that biodiversity protection is not secondary to short-term economic interests but central to national planning. It means recognizing that financial systems must account for ecological risk because economic stability cannot exist on a destabilized planet.

Jane Goodall showed us that courage sometimes looks like quiet persistence. She faced skepticism. She faced dismissal. She faced a scientific establishment that questioned her methods. Yet, she continued calmly, persistently and effectively. That perseverance is an example for all of us who have felt the frustration of slow progress.

Since my appointment in 2016, I have often spoken about planetary boundaries, intergenerational justice and the need to align our economy with ecological realities. At times, progress has felt very slow, indeed, but Dr. Goodall’s life reminds us that paradigm shifts do not happen overnight; they happen because someone refuses to give up. I very much like Gandhi’s saying, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” It’s a principle that should guide all of us.

Honouring her legacy also means investing in youth. She said, “My greatest hope lies with young people.” If that is so, then our responsibility is clear: We must equip youth not only with hope but with opportunity. We can support national youth climate initiatives. We can ensure that environmental education is strengthened. We can create pathways for green jobs and a just transition so that the next generation inherits not economic precariousness but resilience. We can ensure that Indigenous knowledge is respected and integrated into decision making, a principle deeply aligned with her understanding that humans belong within, not above, nature.

We must also defend truth in an era of misinformation. Jane Goodall was a scientist who communicated with clarity and humility. She understood that storytelling connects science to the human heart. As parliamentarians, we must champion evidence-based policies and ensure that independent science remains protected and accessible.

Her final message resonates powerfully. She reminded us that we are part of Mother Nature and that we depend on her for clean air, water, food — for everything; that despair leads to apathy, and apathy leads to inaction; and that each of us has the power to make a difference. Those words are not sentimental; they are strategic. Hope is not naivete; it is fuel. Without hope, no movement survives. Without hope, no reform endures.

Jane Goodall did not redefine humanity by placing us above other species. She redefined humanity by calling us to greater responsibility.

Colleagues, if we truly consider ourselves to be guardians, this responsibility must be measurable. It must be manifested as reduced emissions, protected habitats, restored ecosystems and more resilient communities, especially the most vulnerable communities. It must be reflected in budgets that fund prevention rather than disaster management. It must be embodied in laws that protect biodiversity not only for its utilitarian value, but also for its intrinsic value.

We honour Jane Goodall not by admiring her courage, but by exercising our own. We honour her by ensuring that future generations — the grandchildren she spoke of — inherit forests that are still standing, oceans that are still living, and a climate that is still stable enough to sustain our civilization. We honour her by rejecting cynicism. We honour her by taking action.

Dr. Goodall once showed that naming a chimpanzee could change science. Let us show that naming our responsibility can change policy. May we see the natural world as she did: not as a resource to exhaust but as a community to which we belong. May we remember that the measure of our leadership will not be the convenience of our choices today but the livability of the world tomorrow. May we prove, through concrete actions, that hope in this chamber is not rhetoric; it is resolve.

Thank you, dear colleagues. Meegwetch.