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We can’t eradicate deadly cane toads – but there’s a way to stop them killing wildlife

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Monday, April 8, 2024

Australia can claim more than its fair share of environmental blunders, but the introduction of cane toads in 1935 surely ranks as one of the worst. The toads were imported from Hawaii and released in Queensland, purportedly to manage pest beetles in sugar cane crops. The toads failed to control the pests and instead spread westwards at an ever-increasing pace. They are expected to reach Broome on Western Australia’s coast within a few years. Along the way, cane toads have created havoc. Any predator that tries to eat an adult cane toad is likely to die a quick and painful death. In particular, monitor lizards – once abundant across the Australian tropics – have virtually been wiped out. Cane toads have so far proven unstoppable. But our research suggests even if we can’t eradicate the toads, we may still be able to reduce the damage they cause. By exposing native animals to less toxic baby cane toads, we can teach them not to eat the deadly adults. Cane toads were introduced to destroy sugar cane pests. Shutterstock ‘Teacher toads’ Many threats imperilling ecosystems worldwide are virtually impossible to eradicate. In some cases, the only way to reduce the impacts of such invaders may be to build the resilience of native species. This can be achieved through a method known as “conditioned taste aversion” – a learned association between the taste of a particular food and illness. One approach involves exposing native predators to small individuals of a toxic prey type, in the hope the predator will fall ill but not die, and learn to avoid eating that species in future. Our previous lab and field research provided encouraging results. It suggested if we expose wild predators to small, non-lethal cane toads they learnt to delete cane toads from their diets, increasing their chance of survival after the larger toads invade. We wanted to test this approach at a bigger scale – in the Kimberley region of northwestern Australia – to help protect yellow-spotted monitors (a type of goanna). Across Australia’s tropics, many populations of this species have declined more than 90% due to ingestion of cane toads. The loss has affected the entire food web. Smaller predators have become more abundant and have access to more food, which means they can have larger impacts on prey species. As well as their ecological role, yellow-spotted monitors are also an important cultural species and traditional food source for Indigenous people. Our project set out to teach wild yellow-spotted monitors to leave the toxic amphibian alone, by exposing them to “teacher toads”: young individuals less poisonous than adult toads. Read more: A secret war between cane toads and parasitic lungworms is raging across Australia Yellow spotted monitor numbers have plummeted due to cane toads. Shutterstock The results were clear Rolling out a conservation strategy in an area as huge and rugged as the Kimberly wilderness is no easy task. To take on this challenge, we assembled a coalition of stakeholders including researchers, wildlife management agencies, non-government organisations, private landowners and Indigenous groups. We worked with the Bunuba Rangers and the WA Department of Biodiversity, Conservation and Attractions. First, we captured adult female toads that were about to lay their eggs. Once the eggs were laid we transported them, or the tadpoles, to places we knew would be invaded by the toads within a few months. It might seem unusual to release many thousands of baby pest toads into the environment. But we knew vast numbers of adult toads would soon reach the area anyway. And importantly, we didn’t add any more cane toads into the landscape – we took female toads that were about to lay their eggs from one place, and released those eggs and babies into another place not too far away. To monitor goanna populations, we used trail cameras set up to record any animal that approached our bait – a punctured tin of sardines. Goannas are strongly attracted to that smelly stimulus, so the method worked well. It also allowed us to work out how many goannas lived in each site before toads arrived. The results of our intervention were clear. In three sites where we deployed our “teacher toads”, goannas remained abundant even after toads invaded. But in four nearby sites where goannas were equally abundant beforehand, their numbers plummeted. Read more: Is 'Toadzilla' a sign of enormous cane toads to come? It's possible – toads grow as large as their environment allows A monitor lizard captured on camera inspecting bait during the research. Author provided Lessons for the future It will never be possible to deploy “teacher toads” across all of tropical Australia. But our results suggest strategic use of this method can help maintain pockets with healthy predator populations. Over time, the offspring of those survivors may repopulate other areas. We’re optimistic that even a single deployment of baby toads may have long-term effects. That’s because once adult cane toads invade an area and begin breeding, it creates plenty of baby toads to “train” the next generation of goannas, without us having to keep adding more toads to the system. Our study is a good example of bringing research results through to actual on-ground management. It also shows the benefits of academics working with Indigenous communities and government authorities to achieve real outcomes for wildlife conservation. We have also demonstrated the promise of our technique for conservation challenges globally. If we can’t eliminate a threat to native wildlife, we might at least teach individual animals how to deal with it. The authors would like to acknowledge the valuable contribution of the Bunuba Rangers to the research underpinning this article. Rick Shine receives funding from the Australian Research Council. Georgia Ward-Fear does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

New research suggests if we can’t eradicate cane toads, we can teach wildlife not to eat them.

Australia can claim more than its fair share of environmental blunders, but the introduction of cane toads in 1935 surely ranks as one of the worst.

The toads were imported from Hawaii and released in Queensland, purportedly to manage pest beetles in sugar cane crops. The toads failed to control the pests and instead spread westwards at an ever-increasing pace. They are expected to reach Broome on Western Australia’s coast within a few years.

Along the way, cane toads have created havoc. Any predator that tries to eat an adult cane toad is likely to die a quick and painful death. In particular, monitor lizards – once abundant across the Australian tropics – have virtually been wiped out.

Cane toads have so far proven unstoppable. But our research suggests even if we can’t eradicate the toads, we may still be able to reduce the damage they cause. By exposing native animals to less toxic baby cane toads, we can teach them not to eat the deadly adults.

cane toad
Cane toads were introduced to destroy sugar cane pests. Shutterstock

‘Teacher toads’

Many threats imperilling ecosystems worldwide are virtually impossible to eradicate. In some cases, the only way to reduce the impacts of such invaders may be to build the resilience of native species.

This can be achieved through a method known as “conditioned taste aversion” – a learned association between the taste of a particular food and illness. One approach involves exposing native predators to small individuals of a toxic prey type, in the hope the predator will fall ill but not die, and learn to avoid eating that species in future.

Our previous lab and field research provided encouraging results. It suggested if we expose wild predators to small, non-lethal cane toads they learnt to delete cane toads from their diets, increasing their chance of survival after the larger toads invade.

We wanted to test this approach at a bigger scale – in the Kimberley region of northwestern Australia – to help protect yellow-spotted monitors (a type of goanna). Across Australia’s tropics, many populations of this species have declined more than 90% due to ingestion of cane toads.

The loss has affected the entire food web. Smaller predators have become more abundant and have access to more food, which means they can have larger impacts on prey species.

As well as their ecological role, yellow-spotted monitors are also an important cultural species and traditional food source for Indigenous people.

Our project set out to teach wild yellow-spotted monitors to leave the toxic amphibian alone, by exposing them to “teacher toads”: young individuals less poisonous than adult toads.


Read more: A secret war between cane toads and parasitic lungworms is raging across Australia


a yellow lizard with its tongue out
Yellow spotted monitor numbers have plummeted due to cane toads. Shutterstock

The results were clear

Rolling out a conservation strategy in an area as huge and rugged as the Kimberly wilderness is no easy task. To take on this challenge, we assembled a coalition of stakeholders including researchers, wildlife management agencies, non-government organisations, private landowners and Indigenous groups.

We worked with the Bunuba Rangers and the WA Department of Biodiversity, Conservation and Attractions. First, we captured adult female toads that were about to lay their eggs. Once the eggs were laid we transported them, or the tadpoles, to places we knew would be invaded by the toads within a few months.

It might seem unusual to release many thousands of baby pest toads into the environment. But we knew vast numbers of adult toads would soon reach the area anyway. And importantly, we didn’t add any more cane toads into the landscape – we took female toads that were about to lay their eggs from one place, and released those eggs and babies into another place not too far away.

To monitor goanna populations, we used trail cameras set up to record any animal that approached our bait – a punctured tin of sardines. Goannas are strongly attracted to that smelly stimulus, so the method worked well. It also allowed us to work out how many goannas lived in each site before toads arrived.

The results of our intervention were clear. In three sites where we deployed our “teacher toads”, goannas remained abundant even after toads invaded. But in four nearby sites where goannas were equally abundant beforehand, their numbers plummeted.


Read more: Is 'Toadzilla' a sign of enormous cane toads to come? It's possible – toads grow as large as their environment allows


a yellow lizard inspecting a bait
A monitor lizard captured on camera inspecting bait during the research. Author provided

Lessons for the future

It will never be possible to deploy “teacher toads” across all of tropical Australia. But our results suggest strategic use of this method can help maintain pockets with healthy predator populations. Over time, the offspring of those survivors may repopulate other areas.

We’re optimistic that even a single deployment of baby toads may have long-term effects. That’s because once adult cane toads invade an area and begin breeding, it creates plenty of baby toads to “train” the next generation of goannas, without us having to keep adding more toads to the system.

Our study is a good example of bringing research results through to actual on-ground management. It also shows the benefits of academics working with Indigenous communities and government authorities to achieve real outcomes for wildlife conservation.

We have also demonstrated the promise of our technique for conservation challenges globally. If we can’t eliminate a threat to native wildlife, we might at least teach individual animals how to deal with it.


The authors would like to acknowledge the valuable contribution of the Bunuba Rangers to the research underpinning this article.

The Conversation

Rick Shine receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

Georgia Ward-Fear does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

From the telegraph to AI, our communications systems have always had hidden environmental cost

The telegraph was hailed for its revolutionary ability to span distance. Now AI is being hailed as a great leap forward. But both came with environmental costs.

The first attempt to lay submarine telegraph cable between Britain and France. Universal History Archive/GettyWhen we post to a group chat or talk to an AI chatbot, we don’t think about how these technologies came to be. We take it for granted we can instantly communicate. We only notice the importance and reach of these systems when they’re not accessible. Companies describe these systems with metaphors such as the “cloud” or “artificial intelligence”, suggesting something intangible. But they are deeply material. The stories told about these systems centre on newness and progress. But these myths obscure the human and environmental cost of making them possible. AI and modern communication systems rely on huge data centres and submarine cables. These have large and growing environmental costs, from soaring energy use to powering data centres to water for cooling. There’s nothing new about this, as my research shows. The first world-spanning communication system was the telegraph, which made it possible to communicate between some continents in near-real time. But it came at substantial cost to the environment and humans. Submarine telegraph cables were wrapped in gutta-percha, the rubber-like latex extracted from tropical trees by colonial labourers. Forests were felled to grow plantations of these trees. Is it possible to design communications systems without such costs? Perhaps. But as the AI investment bubble shows, environmental and human costs are often ignored in the race for the next big thing. The telegraph had a sizeable environmental and social cost. Pictured: workers coiling the first transatlantic telegraph cable in the bilge tanks of the S.S. Great Eastern in 1865. Universal History Archives/Getty From the “Victorian internet” to AI Before the telegraph, long distance communication was painfully slow. Sending messages by ship could take months. In the 1850s, telegraph cables made it possible to rapidly communicate between countries and across oceans. By the late 1800s, the telegraph had become ubiquitous. Later dubbed the “Victorian internet”, the telegraph was the predecessor of today’s digital networks. Building telegraph networks was a huge undertaking. The first transatlantic cable was completed in 1858, spanning more than 4,000km between North America and Europe. The first transatlantic submarine cables made possible rapid communication between the United States and Europe. This 1857 map shows their paths. Korff Brothers, CC BY-NC-ND Australia followed closely behind. European colonists created the first telegraph lines in the 1850s between Melbourne and Williamstown. By 1872, the Overland Telegraph Line between Adelaide and Darwin had been completed. From Darwin, the message could reach the world. There are clear differences between the telegraph and today’s AI systems. But there are also clear parallels. In our time, fibre optic cables retrace many routes of the now obsolete submarine telegraph cables. Virtually all (99%) of the world’s internet traffic travels through deep sea cables. These cables carry everything from Google searches to ChatGPT interactions, transmitting data close to the speed of light from your device to faraway data centres and back. Historical accounts describe the telegraph variously as a divine gift, a human-made wonder, and a networked global intelligence, far from the material reality. These descriptions are not far off the way AI is talked about today. Grounded in extraction In the 19th century, the telegraph was commonly thought of as an emblem of progress and technological innovation. But these systems had other stories embedded, such as the logic of colonialism. One reason European powers set out to colonise the globe was to extract resources from colonies for their own use. The same extractive logic can be seen in the telegraph, a system whose self-evident technological progress won out over environmental and social costs. If you look closely at a slice of telegraph cable in a museum or at historic sites where submarine telegraph cables made landfall, you’ll see something interesting. The telegraph was a technological marvel – but it came at considerable cost. Pictured is an 1856 sample of the first submarine telegraph cable linking Newfoundland and Nova Scotia in Canada. Jemimah Widdicombe, CC BY-NC-ND Wrapped around the wires is a mixture of tarred yarn and gutta percha. Cable companies used this naturally occurring latex to insulate telegraph wires from the harsh conditions on the sea floor. To meet soaring demand, colonial powers such as Britain and the Netherlands accelerated harvesting in their colonies across Southeast Asia. Rainforests were felled for plantations and Indigenous peoples forced to harvest the latex. European colonial powers drove intensified production of gutta-percha despite the environmental and social cost. Pictured: Kayan people in Borneo harvesting the milky latex around 1910. Wikimedia, CC BY-NC-ND Australia’s telegraph came at real cost, as First Nations truth telling projects and interdisciplinary researchers have shown. The Overland Telegraph Line needed large amounts of water to power batteries and sustain human operators and their animals at repeater stations. The demand for water contributed to loss of life, forced dispossession and the pollution of waterways. The legacy of these effects are still experienced today. Echoes of this colonial logic can be seen in today’s AI systems. The focus today is on technological advancement, regardless of energy and environmental costs. Within five years, the International Energy Agency estimates the world’s data centres could require more electricity than all of Japan. AI is far more thirsty than the telegraph. Data centres produce a great deal of heat, and water has to be used to keep the servers cool. Researchers estimate that by 2027, AI usage will require between 4.2 and 6.6 billion cubic metres of water – about the same volume used by Denmark annually. With the rise of generative AI, both Microsoft and Google have significantly increased their water consumption. Manufacturing the specialised processors needed to train AI models has resulted in dirty mining, deforestation and toxic waste. As AI scholar Kate Crawford has argued, AI must be understood as a system that is: embodied and material, made from natural resources, fuel, human labour, infrastructures, logistics, histories and classifications. The same was true of the telegraph. Huge new data centres are being built to service the growth in AI and the wider internet. Pictured: a new Google data centre in the United Kingdom. Richard Newstead/Getty Planning for the future Telegraph companies and the imperial networks behind them accepted environmental extraction and social exploitation as the price of technological progress. Today’s tech giants are following a similar approach, racing to release ever more powerful models while obscuring the far reaching environmental consequences of their technologies. As governments work to improve regulation and accountability, they must go further to enforce ethical standards, mandate transparent disclosure of energy and environmental impacts and support low impact projects. Without decisive action, AI risks becoming another chapter in the long history of technologies trading human and environmental wellbeing for technological “progress”. The lesson from the telegraph is clear: we must refuse to accept exploitation as the cost of innovation. Jemimah Widdicombe works for the National Communication Museum (NCM) as Senior Curator.

Warnings of imports of caged hen eggs as Ukraine and Poland become UK’s biggest suppliers

Shift raises food safety and welfare concerns as imports can bypass standards for domestic producersUkraine and Poland have overtaken other EU countries to become the UK’s biggest egg suppliers, sparking warnings that imports of eggs from caged hens are slipping “through the back door” despite welfare pledges.Freedom of information data from the Animal and Plant Health Agency shows that, while the Netherlands supplied a large proportion of UK eggs in 2022, its share has steadily fallen. By 2025, Ukraine and Poland together accounted for more than 15m kilograms, with Spain, Italy and other southern and eastern European countries also having increased their exports. Continue reading...

Ukraine and Poland have overtaken other EU countries to become the UK’s biggest egg suppliers, sparking warnings that imports of eggs from caged hens are slipping “through the back door” despite welfare pledges.Freedom of information data from the Animal and Plant Health Agency shows that, while the Netherlands supplied a large proportion of UK eggs in 2022, its share has steadily fallen. By 2025, Ukraine and Poland together accounted for more than 15m kilograms, with Spain, Italy and other southern and eastern European countries also having increased their exports.Ukraine has provided the most eggs so far this year by weight at 8m kilograms, followed by almost 7m kilograms from Poland and 5m from Spain, according to data provided up to July this year.Imports of eggs for consumption rose sharply from about 3,500 consignments in 2023 to more than 10,000 in 2024. Although overall tonnage declined, fewer big shipments have been replaced by many small ones from regions where caged-hen systems remain widespread.Mark Williams, the chair of the British Egg Industry Council, said UK farmers were being placed at an unfair disadvantage. “Our farmers are asked to invest in ever-higher standards of hen welfare while the government leaves the back door open to eggs produced in a system that is banned in the UK. This is morally wrong and unfair, and the government should not be doing this,” he said.Williams said battery cages outlawed in the UK since 2012 were still commonplace in Ukraine, and that eggs linked to food safety issues in mainland Europe continued to be traded.After Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, the country’s farms, factories and trade routes were badly hit. To help Ukraine’s economy survive, the UK and EU suspended tariffs on its goods, meaning products such as eggs could be exported without extra costs. Ministers argue this tariff suspension is a deliberate step to support Ukraine during wartime.Williams acknowledged the humanitarian case, but added: “Aid should not come at the expense of UK egg farmers – particularly when British retailers have already pledged to go cage-free by 2025. That promise is undermined if imports from countries with weaker welfare standards are allowed to fill the gap into the price-sensitive food service and processing sectors.”The UK currently produces about 88% of its own eggs, and imports the remaining 12%. Leading supermarkets only sell British Lion eggs in retail, following 2017 Food Standards Agency advice confirming they are safe to eat runny or raw. Imported eggs are more likely to be found in restaurants and food processing.“I am not worried about Ukrainian eggs entering retail,” Williams said. “But retail is only 65% of the market. The other two segments – food service (18%) and processing (17%) – are very price-competitive, which makes it attractive for Ukraine to sell eggs or egg products here.”skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy 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 promotionHe added that UK regulations on food safety, animal welfare and environmental protection accounted for about 14% of the cost of producing a dozen eggs. “Ukraine doesn’t face those costs, giving them a huge commercial advantage. That’s why it’s so attractive right now to send eggs and egg products to the UK.”Ukraine has asked Britain to keep tariff suspensions in place until 2029. While the UK has agreed to extend tariff-free trade on most goods to that date, eggs and poultry are classed as “sensitive products” and have only been granted a shorter, two-year extension.A government spokesperson said: “We are backing our farmers with the largest nature-friendly budget in history to get more British food on our plates and we will always protect our farmers in trade deals.“We are making the supply chain fairer and are engaging with the egg industry to draft new regulations to ensure a level playing field for producers.”

Renowned Primatologist Jane Goodall Dead At 91

The Jane Goodall Institute said Goodall passed away "due to natural causes."

English primatologist and anthropologist Jane Goodall speaks in the panel "Earth's Wisdom Keepers" on the last day of the forum's Annual Meeting in Davos, Switzerland, in 2024.AP Photo/Markus SchreiberJane Goodall, the world’s most famous primatologist, died Wednesday at the age of 91, the Jane Goodall Institute announced on social media.According to the Institute, Goodall passed away “due to natural causes” while in California as part of a speaking tour of the United States.“Dr. Goodall’s discoveries as an ethologist revolutionized science, and she was a tireless advocate for the protection and restoration of our natural world,” the Institute said in a statement.Goodall, the world's foremost authority on chimpanzees, communicates with chimpanzee Nana in June 2004 at the zoo of Magdeburg in eastern Germany. The British primatologist has died.JENS SCHLUETER/DDP/AFP via Getty ImagesIn the spring of 1957, Goodall, then a 22-year-old secretary with only a high school education, boarded a ship from her native England to Kenya. Her work at a local natural history museum soon took her to the rainforest reserve at Gombe National Park (in present-day Tanzania), home to one of the largest chimpanzee populations in Africa.She felt an immediate connection to the chimpanzees. Over the decades that followed, she spent almost all her time in the reserve ― conducting research that reshaped our understanding of chimpanzees and even what it means to be human. Goodall was born on April 3, 1934, in London, to businessman Mortimer Herbert Morris-Goodall and novelist Margaret Myfanwe Joseph. She grew up in the middle-class resort town of Bournemouth, on the southern coast of England. In grade school, she started reading Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan novels and Hugh Lofting’s “The Story of Doctor Dolittle” and became obsessed with the idea of traveling to Africa.Goodall’s parents couldn’t afford to send her to college, so after she graduated from high school, she worked as a secretary for two years to save money for the three-week passage to Africa. Two months after arriving, she met renowned paleontologist Louis Leakey, whose work had shown that hominids originated in Africa, rather than Asia. Leakey recognized Goodall’s intelligence and hired her at the natural history museum in Nairobi, where he worked, intending to send her to the rainforest to study chimpanzees. Goodall appears in Gombe National Park in the television special "Miss Goodall and the World of Chimpanzees," originally broadcast on CBS in December 1965.CBS Photo Archive via Getty ImagesFor the first few months of her stay in Gombe, the chimpanzees were cautious, refusing to come within several hundred feet of the young woman. But Goodall persisted, using bananas as a lure for the chimpanzees, and they eventually became comfortable enough to allow her to observe them at close range. Goodall began giving them individual names — highly unorthodox in a field where the standard practice was to assign animals identifying numbers. And as she got closer to the chimpanzees, she discovered that they behaved in a manner that resembled the rich, complicated social structure of humans far more than anyone had suspected. She came to the belief that they could be caring and violent, resourceful and playful — much like human beings.Goodall feeds rescued chimpanzees on July 14, 2016, at the Sweetwaters sanctuary, Kenya's only great-ape sanctuary.TONY KARUMBA/AFP/Getty ImagesGoodall made what is still regarded as her most significant discovery about chimpanzee behavior in October 1960. Looking through her binoculars, she saw a male chimpanzee she’d named David Greybeard sticking a twig into a termite colony and using it to retrieve termites that he then ate. Before this moment, scientists had always believed that humans were the only creatures on earth capable of making and using tools.It hadn’t, in fact, been known that chimpanzees ate meat. Goodall later observed chimpanzees hunting and eating mammals, including other monkeys and even, on rare occasions, other chimpanzees.In 1962, Goodall enrolled in a Ph.D. program at Cambridge University, becoming one of just a handful of people ever to do so without an undergraduate degree. While there, she published her breakthrough finding on the tool-using chimpanzee in the prestigious scientific journal Nature.After getting her degree in 1965, Goodall returned to Gombe to continue her work with chimpanzees. She published her first book, “My Friends the Wild Chimpanzees,” in 1967. She has since published more than a dozen other books for adults and several for children. One of these books, 2013’s “Seeds of Hope,” was criticized for including passages lifted from several other sources without attribution, a misstep Goodall attributed to sloppy note-taking. She later published a revised edition.Goodall poses for a photo at Taronga Zoo on Oct. 11, 2008, in Sydney. Robert Gray via Getty ImagesIn 1977, Goodall established the Jane Goodall Institute to promote conservation and development programs in Africa. It now has projects across the world, including youth-focused programs in nearly 100 countries. As Goodall’s fame grew, she became an outspoken advocate for animal rights and conservation. She has been involved in numerous organizations working on behalf of better treatment of animals.“You cannot share your life with a dog, as I had done in Bournemouth, or a cat, and not know perfectly well that animals have personalities and minds and feelings,” she told The Guardian in 2010. “You know it and I think every single one of those scientists knew it too, but because they couldn’t prove it, they wouldn’t talk about it.”In a 2021 interview with HuffPost, she reflected on humanity’s stewardship of the world and expressed hope we might lean more on our intellect to work toward the mutually beneficial goal of environmental preservation.That intellect is ultimately what distinguishes us from chimpanzees, she said, and allows us to collaboratively plan for the future:20 Years OfFreeJournalismYour SupportFuelsOur MissionYour SupportFuelsOur MissionFor two decades, HuffPost has been fearless, unflinching, and relentless in pursuit of the truth. Support our mission to keep us around for the next 20 — we can't do this without you.We remain committed to providing you with the unflinching, fact-based journalism everyone deserves.Thank you again for your support along the way. We’re truly grateful for readers like you! Your initial support helped get us here and bolstered our newsroom, which kept us strong during uncertain times. Now as we continue, we need your help more than ever. We hope you will join us once again.We remain committed to providing you with the unflinching, fact-based journalism everyone deserves.Thank you again for your support along the way. We’re truly grateful for readers like you! Your initial support helped get us here and bolstered our newsroom, which kept us strong during uncertain times. Now as we continue, we need your help more than ever. We hope you will join us once again.Support HuffPostAlready contributed? Log in to hide these messages.Chimpanzees have a very brutal, dark, war-like side. They also have a loving and altruistic side. Just like us. But the big difference is the explosive development of our intellect, which I personally think was at least partly triggered by the fact we developed this way of talking with words. So we can tell people about things that aren’t present. We can make plans for the distant future. We can bring people from different disciplines together to discuss a problem. That’s because of words. We now have developed a moral code with our words. And we know perfectly well what we should and shouldn’t do. But there is this kind of innate territorialism, which leads to nationalism. That’s in our genes. But we should be able to get out of it because of this intellect. We have the tools. We have the language. We have the scientific technology. We understand that if we make the right decisions every day and billions of us do it, we can move in the right direction. But will we do it in time? I don’t know.Goodall married Dutch nature photographer Baron Hugo van Lawick in 1964. The two had a son, Hugo, in 1967, and divorced in 1974. She married Derek Bryceson, head of Tanzania’s national parks, in 1975. He died of cancer in 1980. Sara Bondioli contributed reporting.

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