Jane Goodall, the primatologist whose groundbreaking study of wild chimpanzees transformed science and inspired generations to see the natural world as kin, was remembered on Wednesday as both a visionary researcher and a moral force for the planet she devoted her life to protecting.
“She reminded us that change begins with compassion and that our humanity is our greatest tool,” said the actor and environmental activist Leonardo DiCaprio, one of several speakers who paid tribute to Dr. Goodall at her funeral at Washington National Cathedral. “She never lingered in despair. She focused on what could be done.”
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An urn containing her ashes, draped in white, was placed inside the soaring Gothic cathedral as bells tolled solemnly over Northwest Washington. A stuffed chimpanzee clutching a banana sat perched on the narrow wooden rail at the front of the pews—a quiet, playful nod to the woman being remembered. Hundreds of attendees filled the cathedral, among them former Democratic House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, Democratic Senator Chris Coons of Delaware, chef José Andrés, founder of World Central Kitchen, and Dr. Francis S. Collins, the former director of the National Institutes of Health, who led the Human Genome Project.
Dr. Goodall, who died on Oct. 1 in Los Angeles at 91 while on a speaking tour, rose to prominence in the 1960s for her revolutionary study of chimpanzees in Gombe, Tanzania. Her discoveries—that they made and used tools, hunted, and exhibited both tenderness and violence—changed the way humans understand their closest animal relatives. Over the decades, she became an international symbol of hope and environmental stewardship, founding the Jane Goodall Institute in 1977, which grew into a global network spanning 25 countries, and launching Roots & Shoots, a youth program that now reaches students in more than 75 nations.
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Her work opened the door for a generation of women in the field of primatology, including Dian Fossey and Biruté Galdikas, and her ability to weave scientific observation into a narrative of empathy and adventure made her a household name. Dr. Goodall’s many awards include the National Geographic Society’s Hubbard Medal; Templeton Prize; and the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the United States’ highest civilian honor, which was given to her by former President Joe Biden. In 2002, she was named a United Nations Messenger of Peace, and a year later, Queen Elizabeth II named her a dame of the British Empire.
In eulogies, friends and family described Dr. Goodall as a pioneering force in science who confronted environmental destruction with grace, humor, and a stubborn belief that human beings were still capable of compassion. DiCaprio said she refused to despair, insisting that hope itself was a form of action.
“Yes, she could be clear-eyed, even blunt about the greed and relentless consumption of our species. But beneath that fierce honesty was an unwavering faith that every voice matters, that we are all connected to the living world, and that each of us can make a difference,” DiCaprio said of Goodall with a steady, heartfelt voice as he weaved personal anecdotes with reflections on her legacy.
He recalled a simple but revealing moment when they took a photograph together: “I looked straight into the camera. When I looked to my left, Jane was looking directly at me. She told me that’s the way she preferred to take her photos, because for her it was never about the image itself. That small moment said everything about who she was—an enlightened Homo sapien,” DiCaprio said.
The Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, the Episcopal bishop of Washington, led the service, which was livestreamed to thousands of viewers around the world.
Dr. Collins called Dr. Goodall “a seeker of knowledge and truth” who “didn’t follow the academic rules.” He said she embodied the “indomitable human spirit” she so often spoke about, maintaining hope through her faith in youth, intellect, nature, and resilience.
Read More: Jane Goodall’s Plea for Future Generations, in Her Own Words
Dr. Goodall’s grandson, Merlin van Lawick, offered one of the most personal tributes, describing her as a storyteller and mentor who turned even the smallest encounter into a lesson about wonder. “We waited eagerly for her stories,” he said. “She constantly reminded us that life was full of wonders, an interconnected tapestry of diverse creatures.”
He recalled her humor and humility, and shared one of her favorite reflections on death—that her “next great adventure” would be discovering what comes after life. “‘Either there’s nothing, in which case there’s nothing to worry about—or there’s something, and isn’t that the most exciting thing of all?’” he quoted her as saying. Van Lawick ended his eulogy with a promise: “Together we can, together we will, and together we must change this world—for generations to come. We promise to carry forth your light.”
Anna Rathmann, executive director of the Jane Goodall Institute’s U.S. chapter, remembered the quiet authority Dr. Goodall carried into every room. “Jane was never the loudest,” she said. “But her powerful message spoke volumes.” She described Goodall’s ability to “carry a quiet and comforting presence” that could “disarm the staunchest opponents.”
Dr. Goodall’s life’s work began on the shores of Lake Tanganyika, in what is now Tanzania, where the 26-year-old Goodall arrived with a pair of binoculars and a notebook, determined to observe chimpanzees as no one had before. Without formal scientific training, she relied on patience and intuition, sitting for hours in silence until the animals accepted her presence. Her discovery that chimpanzees made and used tools—once thought to be a uniquely human trait—challenged scientific orthodoxy and recast the boundaries between people and the natural world.
“Flo trusted me so much,” she recalled in a 2009 interview with TIME about a chimpanzee mother whose baby she observed in Gombe, “that when he tottered toward me, she let him reach out to touch my nose.”
She became one of the world’s most prominent advocates for conservation, human rights, and animal welfare, and used her platform to argue that saving wildlife depended on improving human lives. In her final article for TIME, in 2021, Goodall wrote about the devastating consequences the planet could suffer as millions of acres of trees are cut, razed, and burned every year. At one time, she wrote, the planet was home to six trillion trees. Now that number has been halved—mostly in the last 100 years. She called on readers to support the Trillion Trees campaign—a drive to plant one trillion trees by 2030. And she lent her name to a similar effort—the Trees for Jane initiative. From space, Goodall wrote, our planet is a palette of white and blue and brown and green—and the green is in retreat.
“One trillion trees planted and protected is a big number, even over a ten-year period,” she wrote. “But if everyone pitches in, we have a fighting chance to make a difference. Together, let’s create a sustainable planet for generations to come. Join us today. Let’s give our planet a new reason for hope.”
Her message, delivered with unshakable optimism, remained constant even as the planet’s challenges deepened. In her final conversation with TIME, also in 2021, she said, “I’m about to leave the world with all the mess, whereas young people have to grow up into it. If they succumb to the doom and gloom that’s the end. If you don’t hope you sink into apathy; hope is a crucial way to get through this.”
On Wednesday, that message echoed through the cathedral as mourners reflected on a life that spanned nearly a century of scientific discovery and environmental change.
“When most of us think about environmental issues, we tend to dwell on destruction and loss,” DiCaprio said. “But Jane led with hope—always.”