Phil Levin has spent his career asking a deceptively simple question: How can science actually help the places and people who need it most? Since joining the University of Washington as a Professor of Practice in 2016, he’s worked to bridge what often feels like a large gap between research and real-world conservation challenges.
In late June, we announced that Levin will serve as EarthLab’s interim executive director prior to a comprehensive national search being conducted for a permanent successor. Levin will take on this role in addition to serving as the director of the United by Nature initiative.
Across his career, Levin’s collaborative approach has earned recognition through awards including the Department of Commerce Silver Award and NOAA’s Bronze Medal for his work on marine ecosystems, and the Seattle Aquarium’s Conservation Research Award for his work in Puget Sound. His work has been featured in NPR, PBS, The New York Times, the BBC, MSBNC, and The Economist, among others. With over 200 published papers in peer-reviewed journals, book chapters and technical reports, Levin has demonstrated his ability to communicate complex environmental science in a way that showcases a perspective rooted in fairness, shaped by resilience and elevated by hope.
This month, we got a chance to sit down with Levin to learn more about his work and what he envisions for this next chapter at EarthLab.
EarthLab: What drew you to environmental justice work as a conservation scientist, and how do you see your scientific background (both within and outside of academia) informing your role as EarthLab’s interim executive director?
Phil Levin: I’ve always believed that conservation isn’t just about protecting nature—it’s about protecting people and the relationships we have with the world around us. Environmental justice brings that into sharper focus. My work has spanned coral reefs, fisheries scinece, and large-scale assessments like the National Nature Assessment and now United by Nature. Across all of it, the most enduring lesson has been this: science matters most when it serves those most impacted. As interim director, I see my role as making space—for ideas, for partnerships, for solutions that honor both rigor and relevance. My background gives me the tools to ask hard questions, but more importantly, to listen well and follow the answers to unexpected places.
For those who may be unfamiliar, can you share how you have supported or been involved in EarthLab’s work prior to this new role?
I’ve been involved with EarthLab since the beginning—serving on the Faculty Steering Committee and collaborating on interdisciplinary projects that span ecological science, policy, and community engagement. I’ve also worked closely with EarthLab’s leadership over the years to help shape its direction, bring in external partners, and support funding efforts. This isn’t a new chapter—it’s a continuation of a shared journey.
What does authentic partnership look like between scientific institutions and frontline communities, and how will you help foster that at EarthLab?
Authentic partnership starts with humility. It’s not about parachuting in with answers—it’s about building trust over time, acknowledging power dynamics, and letting communities define what success looks like. At EarthLab, we’re fortunate to have examples of this kind of work already underway. My job is to nurture those relationships, clear roadblocks, and make sure we’re resourcing our partnerships not just financially, but with attention, accountability, and respect.
What are you excited about working on in the next year at EarthLab?
Honestly—it’s the people. EarthLab is filled with brilliant, creative, deeply committed individuals. I’m excited to help elevate their work, strengthen our cross-campus and community connections, and sharpen our focus on equity-centered climate and environmental solutions.
What’s one environmental justice challenge that keeps you up at night, and what gives you hope about solving it?
What keeps me up is the deep inequity in who gets to shape environmental decisions—and who bears the cost when those decisions go wrong. But I find hope in the next generation of leaders: students, practitioners, and scientists who are refusing to accept that inequity as inevitable. They’re pushing all of us to do better.
How do you balance the urgency around climate action with the patience required for thoughtful, inclusive relationship building?
This is one of the most persistent tensions in my work—and honestly, one of the most important to navigate well. I’ve spent much of my career working on issues where the stakes are high and the timelines feel crushing. In every case, there’s a strong pull to move fast. But I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way—that rushing without trust usually leads to shallow solutions at best, and lasting harm at worst.
The most enduring and equitable outcomes I’ve seen have emerged from relationships, not reaction. That means making the time to listen, to build trust, and to co-create goals with the communities most affected. That kind of work doesn’t always look like “progress” on a Gantt chart. But it’s what lays the foundation for real, transformative change.
So I try to operate with urgency—but not haste. I aim to move fast when it comes to showing up, being accountable, and removing institutional barriers. But when it comes to building trust, sharing power, and shaping long-term solutions, I know we have to move at the speed of relationship. As Stephen Covey put it: change moves at the speed of trust.
At EarthLab, I see part of my role as protecting space for both of these tempos—urgency and patience—to coexist. Because we can’t afford to choose just one.
What emerging opportunities do you see in the environmental justice space that weren’t available to previous generations of leaders?
There’s a growing recognition that lived experience is a form of expertise—and that’s a big shift. We’re also seeing more funders, institutions, and policymakers willing to center justice rather than treat it as an add-on. That creates real space for innovation, particularly at the intersections of science, art, storytelling, and action.
Is there a story from your professional experience that best illustrates why bridging social and natural sciences matters for the work ahead of us?
Yes—one that changed how I think about science, place, and justice.
It comes from a study on wildfire vulnerability that illustrates how, when we consider people and nature together, we transform not just our science but our actions. Research led by one of my SEFS graduate students, Ian Davies revelaed that communities with majority Black, Hispanic, or Native American populations face up to 50% greater vulnerability to wildfires than other communities—because of where they live, the resources they have, and the structural legacies they inherit.
That statistic isn’t just a number. It’s a call to do things differently.
When I first learned about that disparity, it forced me to rethink everything: not just how we model fire risk, but where we focus our attention; not just how we communicate warnings, but who writes them; not just the ecological indicators we produce, but the social indicators we partner to understand—air quality, evacuation access, historical underinvestment, health care barriers.
In practice, bridging social and natural sciences meant reshaping the work. It meant designing interventions that didn’t just improve ecological outcomes, but also ensured support for vulnerable communities. It meant recognizing that wildfire resilience isn’t just about trees and fire lines—but about equity, infrastructure, and trust.
That shift—from single-discipline thinking to truly integrated science—does more than improve outcomes. It builds legitimacy, relevance, and resilience into our solutions.
For me, it’s a lasting lesson in how science becomes more powerful when it’s rooted in people—and why institutions like EarthLab exist to bridge those worlds.
How should organizations like ours be showing up for the next generation of environmental justice leaders?
Start by listening. Not with the intent to guide, but to understand. Young leaders know what they need—we should be asking how we can support, not shape, their paths. We also need to move resources—not just ideas. That means paid roles, shared decision-making, and a commitment to removing structural barriers. It’s not about inviting people to our tables—it’s about building new ones together.
If you could have coffee with any leader, past or present, who would it be and what would you ask them?
I’d have coffee with Louis Pasteur.
He was a scientist who bridged curiosity and public impact—someone whose work reshaped medicine, food systems, and public health, all while pursuing fundamental questions about how the world works. His legacy lives on not just in germ theory and vaccines, but in what’s now called Pasteur’s Quadrant: science driven by both a desire to understand and a commitment to serve.
That’s where I see EarthLab today—squarely in Pasteur’s Quadrant. We’re doing work that’s rigorous and relevant, rooted in research but also in community, in justice, and in the messy realities of climate action. I’d ask Pasteur how he held that dual commitment—how he stayed focused on discovery while staying grounded in service. And I’d want to know how he sustained his integrity and imagination while navigating institutional resistance.
Also, if the coffee turned into wine—ideally something fermented with a nod to his early work—I wouldn’t complain.