Doing and Being: The Mirror and the Mystery

Most people define themselves by what they do during the course of their lives.

We are taught to build resumes, not reflect on essence. Our modern world reinforces this: jobs, roles, projects, accomplishments—they become our identity’s scaffolding. For example, my foundation provides a platform to conduct activities that contribute to saving orangutans. It gives purpose. It gives shape to time. It gives me something to say when someone asks, “So, what do you do?”

But let us pause, if only for a breath, and ask a deeper question:

Is what we do really who we are?

When we peel back the busyness and ask simply, "Who are you?"—the silence that follows is often uneasy. Not because the question is meaningless, but because most of what we quickly offer as an answer is not the truth. At best, it is a story, a useful fiction we tell ourselves to keep the ego intact.

“I’m a conservationist.”

“I’m a mother.”

“I’m a CEO.”

“I’m a 25-year-old white woman from Nebraska.”

These are not untrue. They are descriptors. Labels. Demographic metadata.

But let me be clear: You are not your labels.

You are not your age, not your skin color, not your address or achievements. You are not even your memories.

When I ask you, “Who are you?” you are likely to respond in language. But language is a net cast across the ocean of consciousness, and it never pulls up the whole sea. Words carry both denotation (their dictionary meaning) and connotation (their cultural shadows). What one culture hears in “white” or “old” or even “self” may be profoundly different than what another does. And so even in conversation, we are constantly misaligned in our understanding of identity.

What remains when the words fall away?

When the stories unravel?

When the ego takes a seat in silence?

Celebrating 20 Years of the Orangutan Caring Scholarship: A Journey of Hope and Commitment

As I prepare to board my flight to Indonesia, I am filled with both excitement and reflection. This is no ordinary trip for the Orangutan Dad. It marks a milestone: the 20th anniversary of the Orangutan Caring Scholarship (OCS)—a program that has, over two decades, touched lives, nurtured dreams, and strengthened the future of Indonesia’s forests.

In the coming days during the month of July, I will travel to four cities: Banda Aceh, Palangkaraya, Pontianak, and Samarinda —each a hub of scholarship, hope, and determination—to help award 30 new students with Orangutan Caring Scholarships with the help of our local implementing partners. These young men and women represent the next generation of conservationists, biologists, foresters, and environmental stewards. Their dedication will help safeguard Indonesia’s rich biodiversity and the precious habitats of its iconic species, including the orangutan.

A Legacy of 20 Years

Looking back, the OCS program began as a seed of an idea—a way to empower Indonesian youth through education, fostering a homegrown commitment to conservation. With the backing of our partners, donors, and local organizations, that seed has grown into a flourishing initiative. Over the years, more than 300 scholarships have been awarded, and over 200 students have completed their degrees in fields critical to Indonesia’s environmental future.

These graduates have gone on to work in government agencies, nonprofits, research institutions, and communities across the archipelago. They are not just protecting forests; they are shaping policies, restoring ecosystems, and educating others.

The Power of Consistent Support

What makes this program truly special is its consistency. For 20 years, we have stayed the course, even during periods of economic uncertainty and shifting global priorities. This unwavering support has built trust—trust from our scholarship recipients, partner universities, and the broader conservation community. We are also delighted and honored that the Government of Indonesia recognized our sustained work.

As I prepare to meet the newest cohort of scholarship recipients, I am reminded that our work is not done. In fact, it is more vital than ever. Deforestation, climate change, and habitat loss continue to threaten Indonesia’s forests and wildlife. The need for skilled, passionate conservationists is greater than ever.

Ensuring the Future

While we celebrate this 20-year milestone, our eyes are on the horizon. How do we ensure that the Orangutan Caring Scholarship continues to thrive for decades to come? The answer lies in sustained partnerships, innovative fundraising, and engaging new supporters who share our vision of a greener, more sustainable Indonesia.

This trip is not just about awarding scholarships. It is also about strengthening our network, building new bridges, and inspiring others to join this mission. I look forward to sharing stories from this journey—stories of hope, resilience, and the boundless potential of Indonesia’s youth.

A Call to Action

As you read this, I invite you to be part of this legacy. Whether through donating, sponsoring our students, spreading the word, or simply learning more about the challenges and opportunities in orangutan and forest conservation, you can make a difference. Together, we can ensure that the Orangutan Caring Scholarship remains a beacon of opportunity and a force for good for many years to come.

Beyond Signs and Sounds: Could Brain-to-Brain Tech Bridge the Gap Between Humans and Apes?

For decades, we’ve tried to speak with our closest relatives in the animal kingdom—chimpanzees, gorillas, bonobos, and orangutans—using sign language, lexigrams, vocal cues, and gesture-based systems. I’ve been privileged to play a small part in this endeavor, teaching sign language to ex-captive orangutans in Borneo and watching them reveal glimpses of their rich inner lives. Yet, no matter how refined our methods, the barrier remains: their minds and ours separated by the limitations of voice, hand, and symbol.

But what if the future of interspecies communication lies not in hands or voices at all, but in the direct linking of minds?

A Radical New Possibility

A recent experiment captured the imagination of the scientific community: researchers linked three human brains in real time, allowing them to collaborate through direct neural signals—no speech, no typing, no gestures. (Read more: Scientists Merged 3 Human Brains by Thought Alone)

If human minds can already merge at this basic level, could we one day extend this bridge across species?

Imagine an interface where human and ape brains exchange signals not filtered through symbols or training, but through raw neural patterns—a meeting of minds at the level of pure intent, emotion, or perception.

What Might We Share?

If this sounds like science fiction, consider the possibilities such a link could offer:

• Emotional resonance: Orangutans are contemplative, gentle beings who experience joy, sadness, curiosity, and even grief. A brain-to-brain link might allow us to directly feel their emotional states, and vice versa—a true empathy machine.

• Shared spatial awareness: Orangutans navigate their complex canopy world with a 3D mental map of fruit trees, vines, and dangers. What if we could glimpse their world as they experience it, understanding their decisions in real time?

• Conceptual thought exchange: Apes already demonstrate planning, deception, and problem-solving. A direct neural interface could allow us to co-create solutions to tasks, understanding not just what they do—but why they do it.

• Cross-species learning: Could a young orangutan, linked briefly to a human brain, gain insights into tool use or survival skills faster than with traditional training? Could we, in turn, learn better how to live in harmony with nature?

Challenges and Hopes

Of course, brain structures between apes and humans differ in important ways. And creating a meaningful, ethical brain-to-brain interface would require not only technical mastery, but deep respect for the autonomy and personhood of our ape cousins. But if the first steps have already been taken with human minds, perhaps it’s not so far-fetched to dream of the next leap.

As someone who has spent a lifetime trying to listen to orangutans, I can’t help but wonder: what would they say if we finally gave them a way to speak beyond signs?

Let’s Reimagine Communication

Could brain-to-brain tech help us forge a new bond with great apes? Could this be a tool for conservation, compassion, and coexistence?

Share your thoughts—I’d love to hear them.

In Praise of Inefficiency: How Nature’s “Flaws” Gave Rise to Sentience

When we look at artificial intelligence, we see systems built by human hands to be fast, efficient, and precise. These qualities, celebrated in our machines, stand in stark contrast to the messy, slow, and often inefficient biological processes that produced creatures like us. Yet, paradoxically, it is precisely this inefficiency—this tolerance for slowness and imprecision—that laid the foundation for sentience, sapience, and consciousness.

The Maker’s Blueprint: Speed and Precision vs. Evolution’s Meandering Path

AI is born of design. We engineered algorithms for accuracy, speed, and clarity of outcome. These systems are optimized to minimize waste, avoid redundancy, and perform tasks with near-instantaneous processing power. Contrast this with how natural selection, over billions of years, cobbled together life forms not for perfection, but for sufficiency—just good enough to survive and reproduce.

And in this “just good enough” realm, inefficiency became a surprising strength. Let’s explore how.

The Metabolic Miracle of Warm-Blooded Creatures

Consider the warm-bloodedness of birds and mammals. Maintaining body temperature through inefficient metabolism—where precious fuel is “wasted” as heat—allowed these creatures to be active in cold climates, at night, or during seasonal shifts that would paralyze a reptile. That metabolic waste heat wasn’t a design flaw; it was a key innovation that freed our ancestors from dependence on the sun’s warmth.

It also fueled the large, energy-hungry brains of primates, including humans. Without this metabolic inefficiency, the neural hardware required for reflection, planning, and abstract thought could never have evolved.

Chemical Synapses: Slowing Down to Speed Up Complexity

Invertebrates often rely on electrical synapses (gap junctions) that transmit signals at lightning speed. Efficient? Absolutely. But these junctions lack subtlety. They’re binary, like a light switch: on or off.

Vertebrates, in contrast, evolved chemical synapses—relatively slow, energy-expensive connections that bathe their targets in neurotransmitters. Why trade speed for sluggish chemistry? Because chemical synapses allowed for modulation, integration, and amplification of signals. They enabled neurons to form complex webs where signals could be fine-tuned, weighted, and rerouted. It was this very inefficiency that allowed billions of neurons to interact in a way that gives rise to awareness, emotion, and deliberation.

The Virtue of Noisy Signals

Biological systems tolerate noise—imprecision in signal transmission, variability in gene expression, redundancy in neural pathways. In AI, noise is the enemy of accuracy. But in nature, this “noise” introduces flexibility, resilience, and adaptability. Evolution thrives on variability; without it, natural selection would have nothing to select from. The quirky inefficiencies of mutation and recombination generate the raw material for new forms, new minds.

Why “Design” Wouldn’t Have Worked

Had life been the product of an intelligent designer focused on efficiency, we would all be cold-blooded, minimal-brained, rapidly reacting automatons—more akin to AI than to sentient beings. The tangled complexity of vertebrate anatomy, the kludged wiring of the human eye (with its blind spot), the recurrent laryngeal nerve looping awkwardly around the aorta: these aren’t marks of optimized design. They are the footprints of evolutionary tinkering, where inefficiency created opportunities for new functions and deeper consciousness.

Artificial Minds: Mirrors of Our Priorities

Our AI systems reflect what we value: speed, precision, and utility. They lack the biological baggage that gave rise to sentience. They lack need—no hunger, no fear, no lust, no pain—no messy biochemical soup that generates joy, sorrow, or wonder. In stripping away inefficiency, we have also stripped away the conditions that made conscious experience possible in the first place.

A Call to Reconsider Our Metrics

If we seek to build artificial minds that are more than tools—minds that reflect the richness of biological consciousness—we may need to embrace the very inefficiencies we’ve tried so hard to avoid. We might need to let go of perfect speed and precision and introduce slowness, noise, and variability. The path to true artificial sentience, if ever achievable, may require us to rethink what makes intelligence meaningful.

Meeting Sandra: Completing a Decade-Long Journey

The last weekend of June 2025 brought me to Florida, where I came not only for a mini-fundraiser in support of orangutan conservation, but also for a profoundly personal reason: to finally meet Sandra, the orangutan whose story helped change the way we think about great apes and personhood.

One decade ago, I found myself virtually in a Buenos Aires courtroom on Skype, speaking on Sandra’s behalf. Then confined to the Buenos Aires Zoo, Sandra was already remarkable—not only for her quiet dignity, but for the legal challenge her existence inspired. That case asked a question the world was only beginning to grapple with: Could a nonhuman great ape be recognized as a person under the law? Could someone like Sandra, with intelligence, emotion, and an inner world, have a right to freedom and dignity?

The ruling that followed was historic. The court recognized Sandra as a legal person—the first nonhuman great ape to receive such status. Yet even as this decision echoed around the world, her transfer to a better life took time. Years passed before Sandra was finally moved from that aging urban zoo to the Center for Great Apes in Wauchula, Florida—a sanctuary that could offer her the peace and care she deserved. I had followed every step of her journey, but until now, I had not stood face to face with the being whose story I have shared in so many talks and writings.

On the cloudy day following the fundraiser, with rain threatening, our small group arrived at the Center. We were greeted by Patti Ragan, the Center’s founder and my friend and colleague of many decades, who made this encounter possible. After touring the sanctuary and meeting the many great apes—some well-known (like Bubbles, Michael Jackson's former chimpanzee pet), others quietly living out their days—we finally reached Sandra’s enclosure.

And there she was: Sandra, declared a person by Argentinian law, nonhuman yet undeniably an individual in her own right. She sat in the corner of her spacious enclosure next to a large outdoor fan, cooling herself with a blue plastic tub perched playfully over her head. Nearby, her companion Jethro rested in the cooler shade of the night house.

I approached, and Sandra’s dark eyes met mine. In that instant, the years and miles seemed to fall away. I felt the connection I had imagined so often—a connection born of advocacy, hope, and shared history. Perhaps Sandra felt it too, though surely for her own reasons. She didn’t smile, but there was a calm in her gaze, a quiet contentment as she enjoyed the sanctuary’s peace, surrounded by enrichment items and fresh browse that engaged her inquisitive mind.

As she held my gaze, I peered into her eyes and felt the weight of that legal milestone, the hard-won path that led here, and the privilege of finally meeting this extraordinary individual. Completing the circle of Sandra’s story, for me - the Orangutan Dad, meant not just helping begin her legal journey, but standing before her at last and bearing witness to the sanctuary life she so rightly earned.

Great Apes of Fame: The Orangutans Who Swung Into History (and Our Hearts)

 

Move over, Kardashians. Step aside, royal family. The real icons of the forest—and sometimes the big screen—are red-haired, long-armed, banana-loving superstars we call orangutans. Yes, they may not have Instagram accounts (yet), but their stories have swung across time and inspired scientists, artists, and conservationists alike.

In this blog, we look at a few of the world’s most famous orangutans: the ones who broke barriers, taught us about ourselves, and maybe threw a little poop in the process. 🦧💩

---

🌟 1. Ken Allen – The Houdini of San Diego Zoo

Let’s start with Ken Allen, the orangutan escape artist from the San Diego Zoo in the 1980s. Ken didn’t just think outside the box—he escaped it. Repeatedly.

This charming Bornean orangutan used sticks, climbed walls, and once even unscrewed a bolt holding a glass panel. What made Ken special wasn’t just his wits—it was his motivation. He didn’t leave to cause chaos. He just wanted to wander the zoo… and apparently visit other animals.

What We Learned:

• Orangutans are highly intelligent and master problem solvers.

• Zoo staff started dressing up as tourists to catch him in the act. He still outwitted them. (Ken: 3, Zookeepers: 0.)

---

🌟 2. Chantek – The Orangutan Who Spoke in Signs

Born in an American research lab and raised in a human-like environment, Chantek learned over 150 signs in American Sign Language, could understand spoken English, and loved going to Taco Bell.

Chantek even referred to himself as "orange chimp," which is hilarious and endearing, although taxonomically suspect.

What We Learned:

• Orangutans have the capacity for self-awareness, planning, and fast food preferences.

• The phrase “talk to the hand” takes on a whole new meaning when it’s coming from an orangutan.

---

🌟 3. Sandra – The Legal Person

Sandra was no ordinary orangutan. In 2015, an Argentine court declared Sandra a "non-human person" with legal rights. She didn’t win the right to vote or run for mayor (yet), but it was a historic win for animal rights.

This Sumatran/Bornean hybrid orangutan had spent 20 years in a zoo before being moved to a sanctuary in the U.S., where she now enjoys trees, enrichment activities, and not being treated like a houseplant.

What We Learned:

• Orangutans aren’t just cute; they are sentient beings with emotional depth.

• If a tree falls in the forest and Sandra sees it, she probably files a motion in court.

---

🌟 4. Princess – The Signing Swamp Princess

Okay, this one might be slightly less famous globally but legendary in certain conservation circles. Princess was a rescued orangutan in Borneo who learned sign language, lived near the blackwater rivers, and occasionally stole food (and hearts).

Her human companion, a pioneering researcher, claims she had a “fruit stare” so deep it rivaled a Zen master in mid-meditation.

What We Learned:

• Some orangutans seem more mindful than your average yoga instructor.

• With patience, apes can learn to sign, plan, and perhaps judge your snack choices.

---

🌟 5. Louie – The King of the Jungle (and Broadway?)

Okay, technically not a real orangutan, but King Louie from Disney’s The Jungle Book was inspired by orangutans, even though his scat-jazz dancing may have been more orangutan-meets-Louis Prima-on-espresso.

Still, King Louie brought orangutan swagger to pop culture, even if he did want to steal the secret of fire (classic primate overreach).

What We Learned:

• Pop culture gives orangutans the stage, but rarely the script rights.

• If orangutans ever start a musical, expect a lot of jungle rhythm and banana-based snacks at intermission.

---

🧠 Final Thoughts: What Can We Learn From These Hairy Heroes?

• Think Deeply. Orangutans are contemplative beings. They spend time considering their next move—whether it's foraging for fruit or breaking out of a zoo.

• Live Gently. Unlike their louder cousins (we see you, chimps), orangutans prefer a quiet life. A reminder that peace is powerful.

• Challenge Assumptions. These apes defy expectations: speaking in signs, using tools, and even challenging legal systems. Never underestimate a being with long arms and a longer memory.

• Have Fun. Whether it’s signing “play,” pranking their caretakers, or inventing jungle jazz, orangutans remind us not to take life too seriously.

---

So next time you’re stuck in traffic, overwhelmed by emails, or wondering what it all means—ask yourself:

What would Ken Allen do?

Probably climb out the sunroof and go visit the elephants. 🐘

A New Arctic Reality: Orcas Preying on Bowheads

I recently read a startling report in a Sierra Club eNewsletter about killer whales (orcas) shifting their hunting habits in the Canadian Arctic—now targeting bowhead whales as their ice refuges retreat. What was once nearly unthinkable—these massive behemoths becoming prey to orcas—is now unfolding before our eyes. My initial reaction was one of sadness for these terrified, sentient plankton eaters, though I understand this is part of an evolving ecological process. 

Scientists document orcas migrating farther into Arctic waters, arriving earlier, lingering longer, and pursuing large marine mammals once out of reach. As the sea ice thins, bowheads lose their sanctuary and become vulnerable to predation anew—revealing a fundamental shift in Arctic ecosystems.