Good morning everyone. First of all, it's been fantastic being here over these past few days. And secondly, I feel it's a great honor to kind of wind up this extraordinary gathering of people, these amazing talks that we've had. I feel that I've fitted in, in many ways, to some of the things that I've heard.
I came directly here from the deep, deep tropical rainforest in Ecuador, where you could only get there by plane, with indigenous people with paint on their faces and parrot feathers on their headdresses. These people are fighting to try and keep the oil companies and roads out of their forests. They're fighting to develop their own way of living within the forest in a world that's clean, a world that isn't contaminated, a world that isn't polluted.
What was so amazing to me, and what fits right in with what we're all talking about here at TED, is that there, right in the middle of this rainforest, were some solar panels—the first in that part of Ecuador. These were mainly to bring water up by pump so that the women wouldn't have to go down. The water was cleaned, but because they got a lot of batteries, they were able to store a lot of electricity. So every house—and there were, I think, eight houses in this little community—could have light for about half an hour each evening.
And there is the Chief, in all his regal finery, with a laptop computer. (Laughter) This man, who has been outside, was saying, "You know, we have suddenly jumped into a whole new era, and we didn't even know about the white man 50 years ago, and now here we are with laptop computers. There are some things we want to learn from the modern world. We want to know about health care. We want to know what other people do. We're interested in it. We want to learn other languages. We want to know English and French and perhaps Chinese, and we're good at languages."
So there he is with his little laptop computer, but fighting against the might of pressures—from the foreign debt of Ecuador, fighting the pressures of the World Bank, IMF, and people who want to exploit the forests and take out the oil. And so, coming directly from there to here.
Of course, my real field of expertise lies in an even different kind of civilization—I can't really call it a civilization. A different way of life, a different being.
We've talked earlier—this wonderful talk by Wade Davis about the different cultures of humans around the world—but the world is not composed only of human beings; there are also other animal beings. I propose to bring into this TED conference, as I always do, the voice of the animal kingdom. Too often we just see a few slides or a bit of film, but these beings have voices that mean something.
So, I want to give you a greeting, as from a chimpanzee in the forests of Tanzania—Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! (Applause) I've been studying chimpanzees in Tanzania since 1960. During that time, modern technologies have really transformed the way field biologists do their work. For example, for the first time, by simply collecting little fecal samples, we were able to have them analyzed for DNA profiling. For the first time, we actually know which male chimps are the fathers of each individual infant, even though chimps have a very promiscuous mating society.
This opens up a whole new avenue of research. We use GSI to determine the range of the chimps. We're using satellite imagery to look at deforestation, infrared equipment to watch animals at night, and lighter, better video and tape recording equipment. In many ways, we can do things today that we couldn't do when I began in 1960.
Especially in captivity, modern technology is helping us to study the upper levels of cognition in non-human animals. The chimpanzee in captivity most skilled in intellectual performance is one called Ai in Japan—her name means love. She has a wonderfully sensitive partner working with her. She loves her computer—she'll leave her big group and her trees to sit at this computer like it's a video game for a kid; she's hooked. She's 28, and she does very complex tasks faster than most humans.
The amazing thing about her is she doesn't like making mistakes. If she has a bad run and her score isn't good, she'll tap on the glass asking to have another go. Her concentration is remarkable—she will do it for nothing, if told beforehand. Chimpanzees, gorillas, and orangutans also learn human sign language.
When I first arrived at Gombe in 1960, the chimpanzees were still running away from me, though some were a little acclimatized. I saw a dark shape, hunched over a termite mound—it was an adult male I had named David Greybeard. He was picking little pieces of grass to fish termites from their underground nest, and sometimes he used leafy twigs—modifying objects to make them suitable for a specific purpose—the beginning of tool-making.
At that time, it was thought only humans used and made tools. Louis Leakey, my mentor, said, "Ah, we must now redefine 'man,' redefine 'tool,' or accept chimpanzees as humans." At Gombe alone, there are nine different ways chimpanzees use different objects for different purposes. These patterns seem to pass from generation to generation—through observation, imitation, and practice—which is a definition of human culture.
Over these 40-odd years, we have found that there isn't a sharp line dividing humans from the rest of the animal kingdom. It's a very wuzzy line. Chimps have long childhoods, lasting up to eight years, with strong emotional dependence on their mothers, which can last a lifetime. They are capable of true compassion and altruism, with rich non-verbal communication—sounds, touch, posture, gestures, kisses, embraces, holding hands, patting backs, swaggering, fist-shaking. They cooperate, sometimes hunt, and share prey. They experience emotions—happiness, sadness, fear, despair—and can recognize themselves in mirrors, showing self-awareness.
This teaches us respect—not only for chimpanzees, but for the amazing animals we share the planet with. Yet, chimpanzees in the wild are disappearing very fast. Deforestation, human population growth, clear-cutting, and bush-meat trade have destroyed habitats. Traditional human cultures are being corrupted. This loss mirrors the loss of human cultural diversity I've seen firsthand.
The one thing that makes humans different is sophisticated spoken language. We can discuss the distant past, plan for the future, and share ideas. But we are abusing this power. Our water, air, and food are contaminated. Chemicals in our bodies are increasing. Diseases like asthma and certain cancers are rising. We harm ourselves, animals, and nature.
I started the program Roots and Shoots in 1991 in Tanzania—a program of hope. Roots make a firm foundation. Shoots seem tiny, but to reach the sun they can break through brick walls. Hundreds of thousands of young people around the world can make a difference. Every individual has a role to play.
Roots and Shoots involves youth in three kinds of projects: caring for their human community, caring for animals, and caring for the local environment. The kids decide what they want to do. They clean rivers, plant organic gardens, spend time with the elderly, or work in animal shelters. With technology, these kids can communicate globally—sharing excitement and solutions.
The philosophy is simple: no violence, no bombs, no guns. Solve problems with knowledge, understanding, hard work, persistence, love, and compassion.
Kids ask, "Dr. Jane, do you really have hope for the future?" Firstly, the human brain can rise to solve problems. Secondly, nature is resilient; we can restore rivers and areas desolated. Thirdly, the indomitable human spirit—people like Nelson Mandela, and survivors of tragic events—show courage and love.
A woman gave me a bell made from a defused landmine from Pol Pot's killing fields. When she said, "If you're talking about hope and peace, ring this," I knew hope is real. Hope is in our hands, your hands, my hands, and the hands of our children. If we consciously live with light ecological footprints and make ethical choices, we can change the world overnight.
Neither the Catt Center nor Iowa State University is affiliated with any individual in the Archives or any political party. Inclusion in the Archives is not an endorsement by the center or the university.