The news of Jane Goodall’s passing at the age of 91 invites us to pause and reflect. Her death is not only the loss of one of the world’s most beloved primatologists, but also a reminder that leadership lessons are not found only in boardrooms or textbooks. Sometimes, they are born in the forests of Tanzania—through the patient eyes of a young woman who dared to live among chimpanzees.
Jane Goodall did not just study animals. She redefined what it means to be human.
In 1960, when Jane Goodall observed chimpanzees using twigs to fish termites out of mounds, she shattered a long-held scientific belief: that only humans made and used tools. Her mentor, Louis Leakey, captured the magnitude of this moment: “Now we must redefine tool, redefine Man, or accept chimpanzees as human.”
Modern neuroscience reinforces what Goodall revealed. Intelligence is not confined to humans. The capacity for problem-solving and innovation is distributed across species, from chimpanzees to crows to octopuses.
Goodall’s decision to name chimpanzees instead of numbering them was radical. She noticed quirks, moods, and emotional nuances that others dismissed. Some were bold, others cautious. Some forgave easily, others held grudges.
In leadership today, this lesson rings true. Every brain is unique. To strip people of their individuality is to strip away the very qualities that drive trust, creativity, and collaboration.
Not all of Goodall’s discoveries were comfortable. She witnessed aggression, dominance struggles, and even what became known as the “Gombe Chimpanzee War,” where one group of chimpanzees systematically attacked another.
Yet she also recorded adoption, consolation, and reconciliation after conflict. These paradoxes echo in the human brain. Neuroscience tells us that we carry neural circuits for both aggression and empathy.
Here lies a powerful leadership lesson: in every moment of conflict or decision-making, we are feeding one of these neural pathways. Neuroscience shows that repetition wires the brain. Each choice we make builds habits. Each habit shapes the culture around us.
Every act of presence and compassion is not just moral, it is biological. By choosing empathy over aggression, we reinforce neural circuits of connection, resilience and trust. This is how leaders rewire not only themselves but their organisations and communities.
Presence and compassion are not soft ideals, but biological realities
In her later years, Goodall transformed from scientist to activist. She founded the Jane Goodall Institute and the Roots & Shoots program, dedicated to conservation and youth empowerment. Her tireless advocacy was rooted in hope, even in the face of environmental destruction.
Her death does not end her influence. Instead, it reminds us that leadership is not about dominance, but about stewardship towards one another, towards future generations and towards the fragile ecosystems we share.
Goodall’s work reflects back truths we cannot ignore:
These insights belong in leadership just as much as they belong in science. Each decision we make, whether in a conversation, a meeting, or a moment of conflict, feeds one of these pathways.
To remember Jane Goodall is to remember that presence, curiosity, and compassion are not soft ideals but biological realities that shape the way brains and societies evolve.
Her death is a call to leadership: to observe with humility, to act with responsibility, and to cultivate the kind of compassion that she saw flicker in the forests of Gombe.
The forest still whispers her lesson: our humanity is not defined by what separates us from the rest of life, but by how deeply we recognise our place within it.
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