What Separates Us from Chimpanzees?
Jane Goodall
TED 2003
Good morning, everyone.
First, let me say what a privilege it’s been to be part of this incredible gathering over the past few days. The talks, the ideas, the people — it's all been extraordinary. And in many ways, I’ve felt very at home here, because so much of what we’ve heard connects with my life’s work.
I’ve come directly from the deep tropical rainforest of Ecuador, a place so remote you need a small plane just to get there. I was with Indigenous people — faces painted, parrot feathers in their headdresses — people fighting to protect their home from oil companies, from roads, from the relentless march of so-called progress.
What struck me, and why I bring it up here, is that in the heart of that untouched rainforest, they had solar panels — the first in that part of Ecuador. With them, they powered a water pump so women no longer had to carry water from the river. They could store electricity in batteries, giving light for half an hour a day in each of the eight homes in the village.
And there was the Chief — resplendent in full regalia — sitting with a laptop.
(Laughter)
This is a man who only learned about the "white man" 50 years ago, and now he's saying, "We want to learn. We want healthcare, to speak other languages. We’re good at languages." They’re embracing selective parts of the modern world — like computers and solar power — while still fighting to protect their forest from exploitation driven by foreign debt, the World Bank, and corporations.
From that rainforest, I’ve come here — and now, I want to bring another voice to this TED stage. Not a human one, but the voice of the animal kingdom.
So let me offer a greeting, from a chimpanzee in the forests of Tanzania:
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh!
(Applause)
I’ve studied chimpanzees in Tanzania since 1960. In that time, technology has transformed how we work in the field. For example, by analyzing fecal samples, we can now do DNA profiling and finally know which males father which infants. It turns out chimpanzees have a very promiscuous mating system — so this opens up new research avenues.
We use GIS to map their ranges. We track deforestation using satellite imagery. We can record their behavior at night with infrared cameras. It’s remarkable what’s now possible compared to when I first sat in the forest with a notebook and binoculars.
In captivity, technology is also helping us learn about animal cognition. One chimp in Japan — named Ai, meaning “love” — works with a touchpad and screen. She’s 28 and faster than many humans at complex tasks. She loves using the computer and performs tasks even without food rewards — just for the satisfaction of doing better.
When I first arrived in Gombe, the chimps mostly ran away. But I’ll never forget the first time I watched one — David Greybeard — calmly using a blade of grass to fish termites from a mound. Sometimes, he’d strip leaves off a twig — modifying it.
That was tool-making.
At the time, science taught that only humans used and made tools. We were "man the toolmaker." But when I told my mentor, Louis Leakey, he said:
"Now we must redefine 'tool,' redefine 'man,' or accept chimpanzees as humans."
(Laughter)
Since then, we’ve observed nine types of tool use at Gombe alone. Across Africa, different chimp groups use different tools in different ways — and this knowledge is passed on through observation and imitation. That’s the very definition of culture.
What we’ve learned over the decades is that the line between humans and animals is not sharp. It’s a blurry, shifting boundary.
Chimpanzees have long childhoods — five years suckling, followed by years of emotional dependence. Their social lives are deep and complex. They form affectionate, lifelong bonds. They show compassion, altruism, and emotions that seem remarkably similar to our own: joy, fear, sadness, even despair.
Their communication is rich: they kiss, embrace, hold hands, pat backs, shake fists — in contexts similar to ours. They hunt cooperatively and share. Some recognize themselves in mirrors — a sign of self-awareness. They have a sense of humor.
So, we now know we’re not the only beings with personalities, minds, and above all, feelings.
And yet — despite how much they’ve taught us — chimpanzees are disappearing fast. A century ago, there were about two million. Today, perhaps 150,000 remain.
Why? The same reasons you’ve already heard today: deforestation, population growth, poverty, and greed.
The bushmeat trade is particularly devastating. Logging companies build roads into remote forests, and hunters follow. They kill everything larger than a rat, smoke it, and sell it in towns. It’s not subsistence — it’s commerce. Entire species are being wiped out, and so are the Indigenous cultures that depended on them.
The pattern is familiar: forests fall, species vanish, cultures erode.
When I look at Africa — my beloved Africa — I see spreading deserts, hunger, disease, overpopulation, and poverty.
Do you think the people of Easter Island didn’t know they were cutting down their last tree? Of course they did. But desperation drives shortsighted decisions. If you're starving, you cut the last tree hoping to make it just one more day.
So yes, the picture can seem bleak.
But one thing does separate us from the chimpanzees: language.
We can talk about the past, plan for the future, share ideas. And yet, with all that ability, we are destroying the planet. In some ways, those of us in the developed world are worse — because we know what we’re doing.
We bring babies into a world where water poisons them, air sickens them, and food is grown in toxic soil. And not just in poor countries — in many of ours. We all carry chemicals in our bodies that didn’t exist 50 years ago.
What are we doing?
Children in cities grow up in concrete jungles, never knowing real nature. No trees, no birdsong, no forest canopy — only screens and simulation.
Eventually, I had to leave the forest I loved, because the chimpanzees were vanishing. I knew I had to raise awareness. And the more I spoke, the more I realized how everything is connected: the destruction of nature, the suffering of people, the greed of wealthy nations, the despair of the poor.
And that despair — I see it everywhere, especially among young people. They say, “What’s the point? Nothing we do matters.” Some turn to apathy. Others to anger.
And when young people say to me, “You’ve compromised our future,” I feel deep shame.
That’s why, in 1991 in Tanzania, I started a program called Roots & Shoots.
Its message is hope.
Just like little shoots can break through brick walls, young people — even the smallest — can change the world.
Roots & Shoots now exists in over 60 countries, with thousands of groups. It empowers youth of all ages to take action in three areas:
-
Care for people
-
Care for animals
-
Care for the environment
Kids choose their own projects: restoring rivers, building gardens, helping elders, saving shelter animals. And it works because they own it. They’re doing what they care about.
Technology plays a role, too — helping these youth connect, share success, or ask for help from peers in other countries. One group fails, another offers advice. It’s grassroots, it’s global, and it’s growing.
The philosophy is simple:
-
No violence.
-
Solve problems with knowledge, persistence, and compassion.
-
Treat all life with respect.
Young people ask me, “Dr. Jane, do you really have hope for the future?”
Yes — because of the human brain. We created these problems. We can solve them.
Yes — because of nature’s resilience. Ruined rivers can be restored. Dead lands can bloom again.
Yes — because of the indomitable human spirit.
Look at Nelson Mandela — 27 years in prison, yet he emerged to forgive, to heal, to lead.
Even in the aftermath of 9/11, amidst fear and horror, there was compassion, courage, and love.
One woman gave me a little bell, made from a defused landmine from Cambodia — a killing field transformed into peace. She said, “Ring this when you speak of hope.”
So I do.
Because hope is not out there with politicians or institutions.
Hope is in our hands.
In your hands. In mine.
And in the hands of our children.
If we each live consciously — if we reduce our ecological footprints, and choose ethically — we can change the world. Maybe even overnight.
Thank you.
- - -
The above is transcript of a speech (Ted Talks) made by Jane Goodall in Mar2003.
Jane Goodall dies on 01Oct2025.
