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Interstate 27 has divided Lubbock for decades. North and east side residents want that to change.

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Friday, July 19, 2024

Subscribe to The Y’all — a weekly dispatch about the people, places and policies defining Texas, produced by Texas Tribune journalists living in communities across the state. LUBBOCK — For more than 30 years, Interstate 27 has connected Lubbock in the South Plains to Amarillo in the northern Panhandle. The concrete structure has stood as a key transportation method for residents, businesses and people driving through the area. And yet, some see it as a lasting reminder of segregation, and a physical barrier that has isolated the east and north sides from the rest of Lubbock. Neighborhoods with majority Black and Hispanic residents are stuffed away, surrounded by industrial zoning and factories releasing emissions into the air. People who call the area home say it’s behind a wall — a signal for people to stop while they can. “Anything behind a wall has a negative connotation to it,” said Robert Baxter, a Lubbock native. “But we’re humans on the other side of that. Not the boogeyman or just criminals. There are kids, elderly people, families, business owners behind that wall.” East Lubbock advocates are working on a seemingly never-ending mission — stitching their neighborhoods back into Lubbock’s fabric. As the city grows, communities behind the interstate have been left behind. While the city adds grocery stores to nearly every corner west of I-27, residents on the east side have one supermarket to get fresh food in the area. A few gas stations and corner markets sparsely placed have less fresh, but convenient, options. While crews actively work on repairing streets in the city, East Lubbock roads remain unpaved in some areas. Businesses have closed and not been replaced, leaving empty, decrepit buildings. There isn’t an emergency room or health clinic in sight for the vulnerable neighborhoods. The interstate has cemented their conditions, and advocates say it’s a problem that’s nearly impossible to dismantle. Lubbock is not the only city facing this issue. The construction of the national highway infrastructure in the U.S. deepened segregation for communities of color nationwide. Karen Wolf at the University of Washington’s Infrastructure Planning and Management program, said the nation’s history of highways is not pretty. “These highways cut through neighborhoods and separated them,” said Wolf, interim academic director for the program. “It was traditionally communities of color or poor neighborhoods, and in some cases, those communities were destroyed.” Segregation was deeply-seeded in big cities and quaint towns alike — cities like Lubbock that are now booming and seeing a ripple effect from mistakes of the past. Fixing the problem, however, can be a costly and complicated process. Earlier this year, President Joe Biden announced $3.3 billion in 41 states to reconnect and rebuild communities that were divided by transportation infrastructure. Nearly $235 million was awarded to six projects in Texas. The Texas Tribune is committed to transparency and integrity, especially as new technologies are on the rise.That's why we want to hear your thoughts about how we use artificial intelligence in our work. Take our Survey The projects awarded funds include efforts in Austin to reconnect East Austin to downtown, a project by the Harris County Toll Road Authority to redesign Westpark Tollway and bridge the Alief community back in, a transportation feasibility study in El Paso, a study focusing on equitable solutions to fix disadvantages caused by Interstate 37 to San Antonio’s east side, a project dedicated to walkability and climate-resiliency for two Houston neighborhoods, and construction on pedestrian caps in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. The issue remains unresolved in Lubbock, nearly a year after a group of residents filed a federal civil rights complaint against the city for its zoning policies. Residents are still in an uphill battle on their mission toward environmental justice and fair zoning laws. Meanwhile, advocates worry that if city leaders don’t do something about it now, East Lubbock will suffer more as the city grows away from it. Industrial zoning isolates community  Baxter, who is Black, said living in Lubbock has always been rough for Black and Hispanic residents. When he was growing up, his friends were told by their parents to not go past I-27. As an adult, he advocates for the north and east sides as they are left behind in favor of shiny, new developments on the other side of town. “Other parts of the city have businesses, nice homes are being built, ones with brick,” Baxter said. “In North and East Lubbock, we have matchbox houses. We want to have brick, too.” More than 100 years ago, the Lubbock City Council approved an ordinance that forced Black residents to the east side of town. The ordinance said Black people could not own property or live in other areas of the city, unless they were servants, and would be fined every day they were in violation. The council then created an industrial zone around them. The ordinance was repealed in 2006, but in reality, little has changed, residents say. With few good paying jobs and amenities on the east side, it's difficult to live. And few can afford to move. A Texas Tribune analysis of U.S. Census data shows roughly 24% of the population in East Lubbock is impoverished, which is higher than the 19% rate for the city overall. “These communities are disconnected from economic drivers, the job market, retail, all the benefits coming to our city,” said Joshua Shankles, president of Lubbock Compact, a local advocacy group. Wolf at the University of Washington said industrial zoning attracts industries that come with big buildings and parking lots, and they cause noise and air pollution, which is a concern for residents in Lubbock. According to the North and East Lubbock Coalition’s complaint, 57% of Lubbock’s Black residents and 38% of its Hispanic residents live within one mile of the industrial zone. By comparison, only 17% of white residents live within the same proximity. The industrial buildings have contributed to public perception of the community on the east side. Earlier this year, the city held a public meeting to discuss a new solid waste transfer station on the southwest side of town. Residents were against the location, citing health impacts and property values — the same concerns people in East Lubbock have described for years. One resident said to put it on the east side because it’s “pretty trashy” and to “leave the nicer areas alone.” “Industrial zoning can isolate a community,” Wolf said. “It creates chasms — you can’t walk through it, buses can’t really go there. It disrupts natural travel patterns for communities.” Wolf said highways are important for faster travel and hauling heavy freight. However, she said the highways were built without recognition to the communities they are in, and sometimes, in spite of them. “The most important piece now is to make sure that any new segments don't bisect communities or isolate more neighborhoods,” Wolf said. Advocates and residents alike have been determined to improve East Lubbock for decades, but it has not been an easy task. City leaders, Shankles said, have failed to recognize there is inequity. “It’s difficult for people to even hear criticism of anything in Lubbock, they think it’s an insult or personal assault,” Shankles said. “It’s more difficult to be receptive to new ideas than to say ‘Let’s just keep doing what we’ve been doing.’” A resistance to change has been seen over decades as residents and activists alike have advocated for better conditions in East Lubbock. Baxter, who sits on the city’s Urban Renewal Agency and Neighborhood Redevelopment Commission, wants to be an example for future generations to be active in the community. But, he still admits it’s hard talking about a pressing issue with no resolution in sight. “You get tired trying to show someone it’s a problem,” Baxter said. “It’s been a problem for decades. People before me talked about it, now I am, and it’s like no one is listening.” False hopes Natalie Miller was excited to move back to Lubbock in 2013. Her hometown was set for a boom in growth and development. Her excitement waned as she made her way to East Lubbock, where she grew up. “Conditions here got worse,” Miller said. “Growing up, you don’t understand the history behind the conditions here. You start to ask those questions as an adult.” Miller joined other residents as they advocated for better conditions, and called for two practices to be added to Lubbock’s development code. The first was amortization, a process that allows the city to rezone property and prevent businesses from practicing operations that are a nuisance or health hazard after zoning laws have changed. Residents want this used to keep industrial practices away from their homes. The other method is down zoning, which allows the city to change the zoning of an area to a less intensive use, such as going from a commercial land to residential. Residents want this because it would stop new industrial businesses from moving in. For advocates, seeking either option has been a long road full of empty promises. At the end of 2022, the North and East Lubbock Coalition, a group of residents, began emailing city leaders about the impact of its zoning laws. The city’s development code would be reviewed soon, and they wanted to get ahead of the discussion. When the city council passed the code without significant changes, the group filed a federal civil rights complaint last summer against the city with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. The council later organized a committee to study the use of amortization and down zoning, and the extent and negative effect of abandoned industrial properties on nearby residents. The committee included industry executives who managed companies near the neighborhoods in question. None of the residents who petitioned Lubbock for the changes were part of the committee. “It’s one of those situations where they give us this to say they did something,” Miller said of the committee’s creation. In January, the committee recommended the city analyze Lubbock’s zoning map to fix areas that need to be rezoned. The committee was against adapting an amortization policy in the city’s code, because the process exists in state law. The committee never answered the question about the negative impact on nearby residents. The city council later accepted the findings without the answer. “They’re not willing to address the issues of how we got here,” Miller said. “We need to talk about that in order to get to the core of our concerns and fix this.” Adam Pirtle, a lawyer with Legal Aid of NorthWest Texas representing the coalition, said down zoning is a good first step. However, he said there’s more to do. “They’re not looking at existing facilities that are operating, that are industrial and causing problems for residents,” Pirtle said. “They’re shying away from that.” There’s other ways Lubbock could improve the situation, including changing the notification process. Currently, Pirtle said, when an industrial business applies to rezone a property, people who live within 400 yards get notified. Pirtle said emailing residents would be easier for the public to get this information. Pirtle also pointed to the environmental commission in Dallas. The group advises the city council on environmental matters and has brought residents affected by industrial facilities to Texas Commission on Environmental Quality public hearings. Federal review ongoing  Residents are now back to square one. According to Pirtle, the HUD’s Fair Housing and Equal Opportunity office in Washington, D.C. is reviewing the North and East Lubbock Coalition's complaint. The coalition is hoping the HUD will make the city remedy the zoning policies for both districts. In the meantime, Pirtle said, his clients are willing to meet with the city at any time to work toward a solution. Baxter said changing the zoning in North and East Lubbock, so it’s not surrounded by industrial buildings near I-27, would help them flourish. As is, he said, zoning is a monster that has hindered the community’s ability to bring in new businesses or housing developments. “No one wants to put up a restaurant or a set of brick condos near a toxic release site,” Baxter said. Baxter also said more members of the community need to get involved, including being placed on city boards that review zoning requests. Miller will continue showing up to meetings and pushing for the city to change. What they have right now — a few Dollar General-type stores, unpaved roads, and no pharmacies — leaves Miller frustrated. “It makes me feel as if we are neglected,” Miller said. “Just as we have been over the last 80 to 100 years here.” Wolf said reconnecting communities that were separated by infrastructure is possible — albeit, expensive. City leaders also have to be willing to learn from past mistakes, and work with the people who are directly affected. “It needs to be done with meaningful involvement from the community members from the very beginning,” Wolf said. “You have to work with them, you have to listen to them, and you have to understand what’s important to them.” In an email from a spokesperson, City Manager Jarrett Atkinson said he does not believe I-27 has had an impact on zoning laws. Mayor Mark McBrayer declined to be interviewed by the Tribune for this story. The HUD is expected to have an answer to the complaint this year. Big news: director and screenwriter Richard Linklater; NPR President and CEO Katherine Maher; U.S. Rep. Pete Aguilar, D-California; and Luci Baines Johnson will take the stage at The Texas Tribune Festival, Sept. 5–7 in downtown Austin. Buy tickets today!

After repeated attempts to convince the City Council to make zoning changes, residents asked the federal government to intervene.

Subscribe to The Y’all — a weekly dispatch about the people, places and policies defining Texas, produced by Texas Tribune journalists living in communities across the state.


LUBBOCK — For more than 30 years, Interstate 27 has connected Lubbock in the South Plains to Amarillo in the northern Panhandle. The concrete structure has stood as a key transportation method for residents, businesses and people driving through the area.

And yet, some see it as a lasting reminder of segregation, and a physical barrier that has isolated the east and north sides from the rest of Lubbock. Neighborhoods with majority Black and Hispanic residents are stuffed away, surrounded by industrial zoning and factories releasing emissions into the air. People who call the area home say it’s behind a wall — a signal for people to stop while they can.

“Anything behind a wall has a negative connotation to it,” said Robert Baxter, a Lubbock native. “But we’re humans on the other side of that. Not the boogeyman or just criminals. There are kids, elderly people, families, business owners behind that wall.”

East Lubbock advocates are working on a seemingly never-ending mission — stitching their neighborhoods back into Lubbock’s fabric. As the city grows, communities behind the interstate have been left behind. While the city adds grocery stores to nearly every corner west of I-27, residents on the east side have one supermarket to get fresh food in the area. A few gas stations and corner markets sparsely placed have less fresh, but convenient, options. While crews actively work on repairing streets in the city, East Lubbock roads remain unpaved in some areas. Businesses have closed and not been replaced, leaving empty, decrepit buildings. There isn’t an emergency room or health clinic in sight for the vulnerable neighborhoods.

The interstate has cemented their conditions, and advocates say it’s a problem that’s nearly impossible to dismantle. Lubbock is not the only city facing this issue. The construction of the national highway infrastructure in the U.S. deepened segregation for communities of color nationwide.

Karen Wolf at the University of Washington’s Infrastructure Planning and Management program, said the nation’s history of highways is not pretty.

“These highways cut through neighborhoods and separated them,” said Wolf, interim academic director for the program. “It was traditionally communities of color or poor neighborhoods, and in some cases, those communities were destroyed.”

Segregation was deeply-seeded in big cities and quaint towns alike — cities like Lubbock that are now booming and seeing a ripple effect from mistakes of the past. Fixing the problem, however, can be a costly and complicated process. Earlier this year, President Joe Biden announced $3.3 billion in 41 states to reconnect and rebuild communities that were divided by transportation infrastructure. Nearly $235 million was awarded to six projects in Texas.

The Texas Tribune is committed to transparency and integrity, especially as new technologies are on the rise.

That's why we want to hear your thoughts about how we use artificial intelligence in our work.

Take our Survey

The projects awarded funds include efforts in Austin to reconnect East Austin to downtown, a project by the Harris County Toll Road Authority to redesign Westpark Tollway and bridge the Alief community back in, a transportation feasibility study in El Paso, a study focusing on equitable solutions to fix disadvantages caused by Interstate 37 to San Antonio’s east side, a project dedicated to walkability and climate-resiliency for two Houston neighborhoods, and construction on pedestrian caps in the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

The issue remains unresolved in Lubbock, nearly a year after a group of residents filed a federal civil rights complaint against the city for its zoning policies. Residents are still in an uphill battle on their mission toward environmental justice and fair zoning laws. Meanwhile, advocates worry that if city leaders don’t do something about it now, East Lubbock will suffer more as the city grows away from it.

Industrial zoning isolates community 

Baxter, who is Black, said living in Lubbock has always been rough for Black and Hispanic residents. When he was growing up, his friends were told by their parents to not go past I-27. As an adult, he advocates for the north and east sides as they are left behind in favor of shiny, new developments on the other side of town.

“Other parts of the city have businesses, nice homes are being built, ones with brick,” Baxter said. “In North and East Lubbock, we have matchbox houses. We want to have brick, too.”

More than 100 years ago, the Lubbock City Council approved an ordinance that forced Black residents to the east side of town. The ordinance said Black people could not own property or live in other areas of the city, unless they were servants, and would be fined every day they were in violation. The council then created an industrial zone around them. The ordinance was repealed in 2006, but in reality, little has changed, residents say. With few good paying jobs and amenities on the east side, it's difficult to live. And few can afford to move. A Texas Tribune analysis of U.S. Census data shows roughly 24% of the population in East Lubbock is impoverished, which is higher than the 19% rate for the city overall.

“These communities are disconnected from economic drivers, the job market, retail, all the benefits coming to our city,” said Joshua Shankles, president of Lubbock Compact, a local advocacy group.

Wolf at the University of Washington said industrial zoning attracts industries that come with big buildings and parking lots, and they cause noise and air pollution, which is a concern for residents in Lubbock. According to the North and East Lubbock Coalition’s complaint, 57% of Lubbock’s Black residents and 38% of its Hispanic residents live within one mile of the industrial zone. By comparison, only 17% of white residents live within the same proximity.

The industrial buildings have contributed to public perception of the community on the east side. Earlier this year, the city held a public meeting to discuss a new solid waste transfer station on the southwest side of town. Residents were against the location, citing health impacts and property values — the same concerns people in East Lubbock have described for years. One resident said to put it on the east side because it’s “pretty trashy” and to “leave the nicer areas alone.”

“Industrial zoning can isolate a community,” Wolf said. “It creates chasms — you can’t walk through it, buses can’t really go there. It disrupts natural travel patterns for communities.”

Wolf said highways are important for faster travel and hauling heavy freight. However, she said the highways were built without recognition to the communities they are in, and sometimes, in spite of them.

“The most important piece now is to make sure that any new segments don't bisect communities or isolate more neighborhoods,” Wolf said.

Advocates and residents alike have been determined to improve East Lubbock for decades, but it has not been an easy task. City leaders, Shankles said, have failed to recognize there is inequity.

“It’s difficult for people to even hear criticism of anything in Lubbock, they think it’s an insult or personal assault,” Shankles said. “It’s more difficult to be receptive to new ideas than to say ‘Let’s just keep doing what we’ve been doing.’”

A resistance to change has been seen over decades as residents and activists alike have advocated for better conditions in East Lubbock. Baxter, who sits on the city’s Urban Renewal Agency and Neighborhood Redevelopment Commission, wants to be an example for future generations to be active in the community. But, he still admits it’s hard talking about a pressing issue with no resolution in sight.

“You get tired trying to show someone it’s a problem,” Baxter said. “It’s been a problem for decades. People before me talked about it, now I am, and it’s like no one is listening.”

False hopes

Natalie Miller was excited to move back to Lubbock in 2013. Her hometown was set for a boom in growth and development. Her excitement waned as she made her way to East Lubbock, where she grew up.

“Conditions here got worse,” Miller said. “Growing up, you don’t understand the history behind the conditions here. You start to ask those questions as an adult.”

Miller joined other residents as they advocated for better conditions, and called for two practices to be added to Lubbock’s development code. The first was amortization, a process that allows the city to rezone property and prevent businesses from practicing operations that are a nuisance or health hazard after zoning laws have changed. Residents want this used to keep industrial practices away from their homes.

The other method is down zoning, which allows the city to change the zoning of an area to a less intensive use, such as going from a commercial land to residential. Residents want this because it would stop new industrial businesses from moving in. For advocates, seeking either option has been a long road full of empty promises.

At the end of 2022, the North and East Lubbock Coalition, a group of residents, began emailing city leaders about the impact of its zoning laws. The city’s development code would be reviewed soon, and they wanted to get ahead of the discussion. When the city council passed the code without significant changes, the group filed a federal civil rights complaint last summer against the city with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.

The council later organized a committee to study the use of amortization and down zoning, and the extent and negative effect of abandoned industrial properties on nearby residents. The committee included industry executives who managed companies near the neighborhoods in question. None of the residents who petitioned Lubbock for the changes were part of the committee.

“It’s one of those situations where they give us this to say they did something,” Miller said of the committee’s creation.

In January, the committee recommended the city analyze Lubbock’s zoning map to fix areas that need to be rezoned. The committee was against adapting an amortization policy in the city’s code, because the process exists in state law. The committee never answered the question about the negative impact on nearby residents. The city council later accepted the findings without the answer.

“They’re not willing to address the issues of how we got here,” Miller said. “We need to talk about that in order to get to the core of our concerns and fix this.”

Adam Pirtle, a lawyer with Legal Aid of NorthWest Texas representing the coalition, said down zoning is a good first step. However, he said there’s more to do.

“They’re not looking at existing facilities that are operating, that are industrial and causing problems for residents,” Pirtle said. “They’re shying away from that.”

There’s other ways Lubbock could improve the situation, including changing the notification process. Currently, Pirtle said, when an industrial business applies to rezone a property, people who live within 400 yards get notified. Pirtle said emailing residents would be easier for the public to get this information.

Pirtle also pointed to the environmental commission in Dallas. The group advises the city council on environmental matters and has brought residents affected by industrial facilities to Texas Commission on Environmental Quality public hearings.

Federal review ongoing 

Residents are now back to square one. According to Pirtle, the HUD’s Fair Housing and Equal Opportunity office in Washington, D.C. is reviewing the North and East Lubbock Coalition's complaint. The coalition is hoping the HUD will make the city remedy the zoning policies for both districts.

In the meantime, Pirtle said, his clients are willing to meet with the city at any time to work toward a solution.

Baxter said changing the zoning in North and East Lubbock, so it’s not surrounded by industrial buildings near I-27, would help them flourish. As is, he said, zoning is a monster that has hindered the community’s ability to bring in new businesses or housing developments.

“No one wants to put up a restaurant or a set of brick condos near a toxic release site,” Baxter said.

Baxter also said more members of the community need to get involved, including being placed on city boards that review zoning requests.

Miller will continue showing up to meetings and pushing for the city to change. What they have right now — a few Dollar General-type stores, unpaved roads, and no pharmacies — leaves Miller frustrated.

“It makes me feel as if we are neglected,” Miller said. “Just as we have been over the last 80 to 100 years here.”

Wolf said reconnecting communities that were separated by infrastructure is possible — albeit, expensive. City leaders also have to be willing to learn from past mistakes, and work with the people who are directly affected.

“It needs to be done with meaningful involvement from the community members from the very beginning,” Wolf said. “You have to work with them, you have to listen to them, and you have to understand what’s important to them.”

In an email from a spokesperson, City Manager Jarrett Atkinson said he does not believe I-27 has had an impact on zoning laws. Mayor Mark McBrayer declined to be interviewed by the Tribune for this story. The HUD is expected to have an answer to the complaint this year.


Big news: director and screenwriter Richard Linklater; NPR President and CEO Katherine Maher; U.S. Rep. Pete Aguilar, D-California; and Luci Baines Johnson will take the stage at The Texas Tribune Festival, Sept. 5–7 in downtown Austin. Buy tickets today!

Read the full story here.
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Goodall's Influence Spread Far and Wide. Those Who Felt It Are Pledging to Continue Her Work

In the wake of Jane Goodall's death, the many scientists and others influenced by her are promising to do their best to carry on her legacy

In her 91 years, Jane Goodall transformed science and humanity's understanding of our closest living relatives on the planet — chimpanzees and other great apes. Her patient fieldwork and tireless advocacy for conservation inspired generations of future researchers and activists, especially women and young people, around the world.Her death on Wednesday set off a torrent of tributes for the famed primate researcher, with many people sharing stories of how Goodall and her work inspired their own careers. The tributes also included pledges to honor Goodall’s memory by redoubling efforts to safeguard a planet that sorely needs it. Making space in science for animal minds and emotions “Jane Goodall is an icon – because she was the start of so much,” said Catherine Crockford, a primatologist at the CNRS Institute for Cognitive Sciences in France. She recalled how many years ago Goodall answered a letter from a young aspiring researcher. “I wrote her a letter asking how to become a primatologist. She sent back a handwritten letter and told me it will be hard, but I should try,” Crockford said. “For me, she gave me my career.”Goodall was one of three pioneering young women studying great apes in the 1960s and 1970s who began to revolutionize the way people understood just what was -- and wasn’t -- unique about our own species. Sometimes called the “Tri-mates,” Goodall, Dian Fossey and Biruté Galdikas spent years documenting the intimate lives of chimpanzees in Tanzania, mountain gorillas in Rwanda, and orangutans in Indonesia, respectively.The projects they began have produced some of the long-running studies about animal behavior in the world that are crucial to understanding such long-lived species. “These animals are like us, slow to mature and reproduce, and living for decades. We are still learning new things about them,” said Tara Stoinski, a primatologist and president of the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund. “Jane and Dian knew each other and learned from each other, and the scientists who continued their work continue to collaborate today.”Goodall studied chimpanzees — as a species and as individuals. And she named them: David Greybeard, Flo, Fifi, Goliath. That was highly unconventional at the time, but Goodall’s attention to individuals created space for scientists to observe and record differences in individual behaviors, preferences and even emotions.Catherine Hobaiter, a primatologist at St. Andrews University who was inspired by Goodall, recalled how Goodall carefully combined empathy and objectivity. Goodall liked to use a particular phrase, “If they were human, we would describe them as happy,” or “If they were human, we would describe them as friends –- these two individuals together,” Hobaiter said. Goodall didn’t project precise feelings onto the chimpanzees, but nor did she deny the capacity of animals besides humans to have emotional lives.Goodall and her frequent collaborator, evolutionary biologist Marc Bekoff, had just finished the text of a forthcoming children's book, called “Every Elephant Has a Name,” which will be published around early 2027. Inspiring scientists and advocates for nature around the world From the late 1980s until her death, Goodall spent less time in the field and more time on the road talking to students, teachers, diplomats, park rangers, presidents and many others around the world. She inspired countless others through her books. Her mission was to inspire action to protect the natural world.In 1991, she founded an organization called Roots & Shoots that grew to include chapters of young people in dozens of countries.Stuart Pimm, a Duke University ecologist and founder of the nonprofit Saving Nature, recalled when he and Goodall were invited to speak to a congressional hearing about deforestation and extinction. Down the marble halls of the government building, “there was a huge line of teenage girls and their mothers just waiting to get inside the room to hear Jane speak,” Pimm said Thursday. “She was mobbed everywhere she went -- she was just this incredible inspiration to people in general, particularly to young women.”Goodall wanted everyone to find their voice, no matter their age or station, said Zanagee Artis, co-founder of the youth climate movement Zero Hour. “I really appreciated how much Jane valued young people being in the room -- she really fostered intergenerational movement building,” said Artis, who now works for the Natural Resources Defense Council.And she did it around the world. Roots & Shoots has a chapter in China, which Goodall visited multiple times.“My sense was that Jane Goodall was highly respected in China and that her organization was successful in China because it focused on topics like environmental and conservation education for youth that had broad appeal without touching on political sensitivities,” said Alex Wang, a University of California, Los Angeles expert on China and the environment, who previously worked in Beijing.What is left now that Goodall is gone is her unending hope, perhaps her greatest legacy.“She believed hope was not simply a feeling, but a tool,” Rhett Butler, founder of the nonprofit conservation-news site Mongabay, wrote in his Substack newsletter. “Hope, she would tell me, creates agency.” Carrying forward her legacy Goodall’s legacy and life’s work will continue through her family, scientists, her institute and legions of young people around the globe who are working to bridge conservation and humanitarian needs in their own communities, her longtime assistant said Thursday.That includes Goodall’s son and three grandchildren, who are an important part of the work of the Jane Goodall Institute and in their own endeavors, said Mary Lewis, a vice president at the institute who began working with the famed primatologist in 1990.Goodall’s son, Hugo van Lawick, works on sustainable housing. He is currently in Rwanda. Grandson Merlin and granddaughter Angelo work with the institute, while grandson Nick is a photographer and filmmaker, Lewis said. “She has her own family legacy as well as the legacy through her institutes around the world,” said Lewis.In addition to her famed research center in Tanzania and chimpanzee sanctuaries in other countries, including the Republic of Congo and South Africa, a new cultural center is expected to open in Tanzania late next year. There also are Jane Goodall Institutes in 26 countries, and communities are leading conservation projects in several countries, including an effort in Senegal to save critically endangered Western chimpanzees.But it is the institute’s youth-led education program called Roots & Shoots that Goodall regarded as her enduring legacy because it is “empowering new generations,” Lewis said.The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute’s Department of Science Education and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. AP’s climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

‘Only if we help shall all be saved’: Jane Goodall showed we can all be part of the solution

Jane Goodall showed tremendous courage in charting her own course as a pioneering researcher – and working to spread hope wherever she went.

Penelope Breese/GettyWith the passing of Dr Jane Goodall, the world has lost a conservation giant. But her extraordinary achievements leave a profound legacy. Goodall was a world-leading expert in animal behaviour and a globally recognised environmental and conservation advocate. She achieved all this at a time when women were commonly sidelined or ignored in science. Her work with chimpanzees showed it was wrong to assume only humans used tools. She showed us the animals expressed emotions such as love and grief and have individual personalities. Goodall showed us scientists can express their emotions and values and that we can be respected researchers as well as passionate advocates and science communicators. After learning about how chimpanzees were being used in medical research, she spoke out: “I went to the conference as a scientist, and I left as an activist.” As childhood rights activist Marian Wright Edelman has eloquently put it, “You can’t be what you can’t see”. Goodall showed what it was possible to be. Forging her own path Goodall took a nontraditional path into science. The brave step of going into the field at the age of 26 to make observations was supported by her mother. Despite making world-first discoveries such as tool use by non-humans, people didn’t take her seriously because she hadn’t yet gone to university. Nowadays, people who contribute wildlife observations are celebrated under the banner of citizen science. Goodall was a beacon at a time when science was largely dominated by men – especially remote fieldwork. But she changed that narrative. She convinced famous paleoanthropologist Louis Leakey to give her a chance. He first employed her as a secretary. But it wasn’t long until he asked her to go to Tanzania’s remote Gombe Stream National Park. In 1960, she arrived. This was not easy. It took real courage to work in a remote area with limited support alongside chimpanzees, a species thought to be peaceful but now known to be far stronger than humans and capable of killing animals and humans. Goodall is believed to be the only person accepted into chimpanzee society. Through calm but determined persistence she won their trust. These qualities served Goodall well – not just with chimps, but throughout her entire career advocating for conservation and societal change. At Gombe, she showed for the first time that animals could fashion and use tools, had individual personalities, expressed emotions and had a higher intelligence and understanding than they were credited with. Jane Goodall worked with chimpanzees for decades. This 2015 video shows her releasing Wounda, an injured chimpanzee helped back to health in the Republic of Congo. Goodall was always an animal person and her love of chimps was in part inspired by her toy Jubilee, gifted by her father. She had close bonds with her pets and extended these bonds to wildlife. Goodall gave her study subjects names such as “David Greybeard”, the first chimp to accept her at Gombe. Some argue we shouldn’t place a human persona on animals by naming them. But Goodall showed it was not only acceptable to see animals as individuals with different behaviours, but it greatly aids connection with and care for wildlife. Goodall became an international voice for wildlife. She used her profile to encourage a focus on animal welfare in conservation, caring for both individuals and species. Jane Goodall’s pioneering work with chimpanzees shed light on these animals as individuals – and showed they make tools and experience emotions. Apic/Getty A pioneer for women in science With Goodall’s passing, the world has lost one of the three great “nonagenarian environmental luminaries”, to use co-author Vanessa Pirotta’s phrase. The other two are the naturalist documentary maker, Sir David Attenborough, 99, and famed marine biologist Dr Sylvia Earle, who is 90. Goodall showed us women can be pioneering scientists and renowned communicators as well as mothers. She shared her work in ways accessible to all generations, from National Geographic documentaries to hip podcasts. Her visibility encouraged girls and women around the world to be bold and follow our own paths. Goodall’s story directly inspired several authors of this article. Co-author Marissa Parrott was privileged to have spoken to Goodall several times during her visits to Melbourne Zoo and on her world tours. Goodall’s story was a direct inspiration for Parrott’s own remote and international fieldwork, supported by her mother just as Goodall’s mother had supported her. They both survived malaria, which also kills chimpanzees and gorillas. Goodall long championed a One Health approach, recognising the health of communities, wildlife and the environment are all interconnected. Co-author Zara Bending worked and toured alongside Goodall. The experience demonstrated how conservationists could be powerful advocates through storytelling, and how our actions reveal who we are. As Goodall once said: every single one of us matters, every single one of us has a role to play, and every single one of us makes a difference every single day. From the forest floor to global icon Goodall knew conservation is as much about people as it is about wildlife and wild places. Seventeen years after beginning her groundbreaking research in Gombe, Goodall established the Jane Goodall Institute with the mission of protecting wildlife and habitat by engaging local communities. Her institute’s global network now spans five continents and continues her legacy of community-centred conservation. Researchers have now been studying the chimps at Gombe for 65 years. Goodall moved from fieldwork to being a global conservation icon who regularly travelled more than 300 days a year. She observed many young people across cultures and creeds who had lost hope for their future amid environmental and climate destruction. In response, she founded a second organisation, Roots & Shoots, in 1991. Her goal was: to foster respect and compassion for all living things, to promote understanding of all cultures and beliefs, and to inspire each individual to take action to make the world a better place for people, other animals, and the environment. Last year, Roots & Shoots groups were active in 75 countries. Their work is a testament to Goodall’s mantra: find hope in action. Jane Goodall went from pioneering field researcher to international conservation icon. David S. Holloway/Getty Protecting nature close to home One of Goodall’s most remarkable attributes was her drive to give people the power to take action where they were. No matter where people lived or what they did, she helped them realise they could be part of the solution. In a busy, urbanised world, it’s easier than ever to feel disconnected from nature. Rather than presenting nature as a distant concept, Goodall made it something for everyone to experience, care for and cherish. She showed we didn’t have to leave our normal lives behind to protect nature – we could make just as much difference in our own communities. One of her most famous quotes rings just as true today as when she first said it: only if we understand, can we care. Only if we care, will we help. Only if we help shall all be saved. Let’s honour her world-changing legacy by committing to understand, care and help save all species with whom we share this world. For Jane Goodall. Euan Ritchie is a Councillor with the Biodiversity Council, a member of the Ecological Society of Australia and the Australian Mammal Society, and President of the Australian Mammal Society.Zara Bending is affiliated with the Jane Goodall Institute as a resident expert on wildlife crime and international law. Kylie Soanes, Marissa Parrott, and Vanessa Pirotta do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Wildlife Advocate and Primate Expert Jane Goodall Dies at 91

By Susan Heavey(Reuters) -Scientist and global activist Jane Goodall, who turned her childhood love of primates into a lifelong quest for...

(Reuters) -Scientist and global activist Jane Goodall, who turned her childhood love of primates into a lifelong quest for protecting the environment, died on Wednesday at the age of 91, the institute she founded said.Goodall died of natural causes, the Jane Goodall Institute said in a social media post."Dr. Goodall’s discoveries as an ethologist revolutionized science, and she was a tireless advocate for the protection and restoration of our natural world," it said.The primatologist-turned-conservationist spun her love of wildlife into a life-long campaign that took her from a seaside English village to Africa and then across the globe in a quest to better understand chimpanzees, as well as the role that humans play in safeguarding their habitat and the planet's health overall.Goodall was a pioneer in her field, both as a female scientist in the 1960s and for her work studying the behavior of primates. She created a path for a string of other women to follow suit, including the late Dian Fossey.She also drew the public into the wild, partnering with the National Geographic Society to bring her beloved chimps into their lives through film, TV and magazines.She upended scientific norms of the time, giving chimpanzees names instead of numbers, observing their distinct personalities, and incorporating their family relationships and emotions into her work. She also found that, like humans, they use tools."We have found that after all there isn't a sharp line dividing humans from the rest of the animal kingdom," she said in a 2002 TED Talk.As her career evolved, she shifted her focus from primatology to climate advocacy after witnessing widespread habitat devastation, urging the world to take quick and urgent action on climate change."We're forgetting that were part of the natural world," she told CNN in 2020. "There's still a window of time."In 2003, she was appointed a Dame of the British Empire and, in 2025, she received the U.S. Presidential Medal of Freedom.Born in London in 1934 and then growing up in Bournemouth on England's south coast, Goodall had long dreamed of living among wild animals. She said her passion for animals, stoked by the gift of a stuffed toy gorilla from her father, grew as she immersed herself in books such as "Tarzan" and "Dr. Dolittle."She set her dreams aside after leaving school, unable to afford university. She worked as a secretary and then for a film company until a friend's invitation to visit Kenya put the jungle - and its inhabitants - within reach.After saving up money for the journey, by boat, Goodall arrived in the East African nation in 1957. There, an encounter with famed anthropologist and paleontologist Dr. Louis Leakey and his wife, archaeologist Mary Leakey, set her on course to work with primates.Under Leakey, Goodall set up the Gombe Stream Chimpanzee Reserve, later renamed the Gombe Stream Research Centre, near Lake Tanganyika in present-day Tanzania. There she discovered chimpanzees ate meat, fought fierce wars, and perhaps most importantly, fashioned tools in order to eat termites."Now we must redefine tool, redefine man, or accept chimpanzees as humans," Leakey said of the discovery.Although she eventually paused her research to earn a PhD at Cambridge University, Goodall remained in the jungle for years. Her first husband and frequent collaborator was wildlife cameraman Hugo van Lawick.Through the National Geographic's coverage, the chimpanzees at Gombe Stream soon became household names - most famously, one Goodall called David Greybeard for his silver streak of hair.Nearly thirty years after first arriving in Africa, however, Goodall said she realized she could not support or protect the chimpanzees without addressing the dire disappearance of their habitat. She said she realized she would have to look beyond Gombe, leave the jungle, and take up a larger global role as a conservationist.In 1977, she set up the Jane Goodall Institute, a nonprofit organization aimed at supporting the research in Gombe as well as conservation and development efforts across Africa. Its work has since expanded worldwide and includes efforts to tackle environmental education, health and advocacy.She made a new name for herself, traveling an average of 300 days a year to meet with local officials in countries around the world and speaking with community and school groups. She continued her world tours into her 90s.She later expanded the institute to include Roots & Shoots, a conservation program aimed at children.It was a stark shift from her isolated research, spending long days watching chimpanzees."It never ceases to amaze me that there's this person who travels around and does all these things," she told the New York Times during a 2014 trip to Burundi and back to Gombe. "And it's me. It doesn't seem like me at all."A prolific author, she published more than 30 books with her observations, including her 1999 bestseller "Reason For Hope: A Spiritual Journey," as well as a dozen aimed at children.Goodall said she never doubted the planet's resilience or human ability to overcome environmental challenges."Yes, there is hope ... It's in our hands, it's in your hands and my hands and those of our children. It's really up to us," she said in 2002, urging people to "leave the lightest possible ecological footprints."She had one son, known as 'Grub,' with van Lawick, whom she divorced in 1974. Van Lawick died in 2002.In 1975, she married Derek Bryceson. He died in 1980.(Writing by Susan Heavey, Editing by Rosalba O'Brien)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

Starmerism has almost destroyed the Labour party, but I still have hope for renewal | Clive Lewis

As our party conference gets under way this weekend in Liverpool, we must start to work out how we can inspire the countryClive Lewis is the Labour MP for Norwich SouthSo choppy are the waters of the UK’s permacrisis, and so flat-bottomed the life raft known as Starmerism, that ideas once thought impossible at the outset of Keir Starmer’s initial soft-left, “Corbyn-in-a-suit” journey have become the defining realities of Labour’s present course. As its conference begins in Liverpool this weekend, the party must ask itself whether the political culture it is building is one that can inspire a country, or merely discipline it into compliance. Without a shift towards democracy, discussion and pluralism, Labour risks forfeiting the very moral and political authority it needs to confront the authoritarian voices shouting so loudly beyond our own ranks, and increasingly within them.The Corbyn wave that swept Labour in 2015 was more than just a political surge. It was a redefinition of the possible, a moment when grassroots activism, radical ideas and the audacity of political hope took centre stage. It represented a demand for genuine democracy, pluralism and change. For many, it was the first time in living memory that Labour had felt like a movement rather than a machine. Today, Starmer’s absolute determination to distance Labour from that era speaks volumes.Clive Lewis is the Labour MP for Norwich South. This is an edited extract from Clive Lewis’s foreword to The Starmer Symptom, by Mark Perryman Continue reading...

So choppy are the waters of the UK’s permacrisis, and so flat-bottomed the life raft known as Starmerism, that ideas once thought impossible at the outset of Keir Starmer’s initial soft-left, “Corbyn-in-a-suit” journey have become the defining realities of Labour’s present course. As its conference begins in Liverpool this weekend, the party must ask itself whether the political culture it is building is one that can inspire a country, or merely discipline it into compliance. Without a shift towards democracy, discussion and pluralism, Labour risks forfeiting the very moral and political authority it needs to confront the authoritarian voices shouting so loudly beyond our own ranks, and increasingly within them.The Corbyn wave that swept Labour in 2015 was more than just a political surge. It was a redefinition of the possible, a moment when grassroots activism, radical ideas and the audacity of political hope took centre stage. It represented a demand for genuine democracy, pluralism and change. For many, it was the first time in living memory that Labour had felt like a movement rather than a machine. Today, Starmer’s absolute determination to distance Labour from that era speaks volumes.The current party leadership views unity not as something cultivated through respectful dialogue and diverse perspectives, but something enforced through control. The Corbyn moment threatened Labour precisely because it signalled a party potentially ungovernable by conventional managerial methods. This is a party unsure how to reconcile democratic participation with electoral success.Parliamentary candidate selections have been increasingly centralised, and grassroots members and leftwing voices within the party marginalised. A party once brimming with energy, ideas and volunteers has become a professionalised bureaucracy aimed at maintaining power rather than transforming society.Labour’s aversion to pluralism is most obvious in its rejection of coalition politics. It wants to be an electoral juggernaut capable of winning alone or not at all. Yet contemporary crises – climate breakdown, authoritarian populism, stark economic inequality – demand cooperation beyond narrow party lines. Collaboration between Labour, the Greens, the Liberal Democrats and other progressive forces is not a sign of weakness, but maturity. And the stakes are as high as the very future of our democracy, our planet. Such a refusal to share power becomes not just strategically foolish, but morally questionable.Nowhere is Labour’s aversion to transformative politics clearer than in its avoidance of public ownership. Consider water. Public opinion consistently favours renationalisation – not as nostalgia, but as a pragmatic response to corporate failures, ecological crises and profound erosion of trust in privatised utilities. Refusing public ownership signals abandonment of democratic control over our collective future, showing Labour’s alignment with a neoliberal orthodoxy that has repeatedly failed.This alignment finds its starkest symbol in the party’s embrace of corporate influence. This undermines democracy itself by nourishing popular cynicism. When voters see politicians cosying up to the same firms that profited from the 2008 crash, the social contract frays further.Labour’s timidity on the climate emergency underscores this problem further. This defining crisis of our times demands bold, courageous and imaginative responses. Yet Labour’s approach has been cautious and timid, perpetually afraid of alienating swing voters or corporate backers. Net zero is framed only in terms of competitiveness, not adaptation and survival. Green investment is promised, but always secondary to fiscal rules set by an economic consensus long past its sell-by date. While floods devastate communities and air quality worsens, Labour dithers.Part of the problem is that the party is paralysed by institutional pressures and geopolitical alignments. Of course, balancing these forces is what makes for great governments and leaders. But Starmer has shown no such inclination. As prime minister, he faces substantial constraints, particularly regarding established alliances such as those with the US. But his careful neutrality over the humanitarian crisis in Gaza and quiet acquiescence to harsh immigration policies reflect an inclination toward diplomatic continuity rather than ethical clarityor moral leadership.In this vacuum, the populist right seizes ground, offering nativist, nationalist solutions to problems that demand internationalist, ecological and equitable solidarity.skip past newsletter promotionSign up to Matters of OpinionGuardian columnists and writers on what they’ve been debating, thinking about, reading, and morePrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain information about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. If you do not have an account, we will create a guest account for you on theguardian.com to send you this newsletter. You can complete full registration at any time. For more information about how we use your data see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionAnd yet, despite these profound concerns, hope persists. Not because the current Labour leadership inspires it, but in spite of it. Hope survives in the growing networks of community organisers, cooperative movements, union branches, citizen assemblies and environmental campaigns. It flourishes in places ignored by Westminster – municipal projects reclaiming public land, local councils experimenting with participatory budgeting, workers organising in Amazon warehouses and Uber ranks. These spaces show that politics is not the property of party elites, but of people acting in concert to change their lives.Ultimately, Starmerism risks rendering Labour unfit for the purpose it was created for: to give a political voice to working people and deliver collective solutions to collective problems. Openly addressing this is essential for Labour – and British politics broadly.The crisis is real, yet so too is the potential for renewal. But that renewal cannot come from above. It must come from below – from a revitalised political culture that sees people not as voters to be harvested, but as citizens to be empowered. Recognising this is the first critical step toward a politics daring enough to imagine and urgently act upon the challenges we collectively face. And if this moment is indeed one of endings, then let it also be a moment of beginnings – a time to organise, to imagine and to build anew.

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