This article was originally published in the Everett Herald.
TULALIP — When Terry Williams grew interested in climate change in the 1970s, he found information about human-caused global warming to be conflicting and confusing.
“It didn’t make sense until the early ’80s, when we saw a difference in the timing of the floods,” the Tulalip Tribes elder recalled. Later studies bore out what was happening in the tribes’ traditional lands. “The glaciers were melting two to three months early. We got floods in November and December instead of March and April. Rainfall had increased 6%.”
The 5,000 enrolled Tulalip citizens are primarily from the Snohomish, Stillaguamish and Skykomish tribes. In three river systems with the same names, ever-bigger and earlier floods wash away salmon eggs or bury them in river sediment. Higher water temperatures may kill fish that do manage to hatch. They never make it to Puget Sound.
If salmon can’t survive, what will happen to a Native culture based on a plentiful supply?
That question is one that drives the Tulalip Tribes’ intense interest in adapting to and slowing climate change. Williams, 72, helped lead the fight for four decades until his retirement in July as head of the Tulalips’ Treaty Rights Office, which he founded. He passed the torch to Ryan Miller, 33.
“If we lose these species that are so intrinsically connected to who we are, we lose part of ourselves,” said Miller, who as a teenager worked at the tribal fish hatchery where his father, Richard, ran the water quality lab. “It’s already difficult to pass on these traditions in modern societies. As these resources get more scarce, it becomes more and more difficult.”
Miller is director of treaty rights and governmental affairs. The new job title reflects the sovereign nation’s engagement with the world well beyond its 35-square-mile reservation and its more than 9,000 square miles of ancestral lands.
Long active in climate-related efforts at the county, state, national and even international level, the Tulalips have ramped up activities in the past four years. The tribes formed a Climate Adaptation Team in 2016. Two Natural Resources Department staff members, Phil North and Aaron Jones, devote full time to climate issues. More hires are planned.
North is climate adaptation coordinator and conservation scientist. A non-tribal member, he previously worked 28 years for the Environmental Protection Agency, mostly in Alaska. Jones, of Snoqualmie descent, was raised in Tulalip and earned a master’s degree in public administration in 2016. As a treaty rights protection specialist, his responsibilities include maintaining online information at nr.tulaliptribes.com/Topics/ClimateChange.
The website is key to the tribes’ climate strategy. It serves in lieu of a formal planning document that quickly would be outdated, North explained. “We decided instead to accumulate our activities online and change that as we go.”
The strategy focuses on five geographic areas: the reservation coast, on-reservation forests, off-reservation forests, the Quil Ceda Creek watershed and the Snohomish River estuary.
On the reservation coast north of Everett, sea level rise and increased storm intensity threaten homes, infrastructure and habitat. The tribes have already torn down houses that were sliding down eroding hillsides to Mission Beach. Facilities at Tulalip Bay, including a sewage treatment plant, could be at risk. One study estimated that Puget Sound has risen nine inches in the past 100 years, North said. Ongoing research aims to predict future storm intensity; results are due in late 2021.
On-reservation forests face increased risk from fire, which could destroy foods, medicine and craft materials that are basic to tribal culture. Fire is among the threats covered in an updated hazard mitigation plan, which the tribes will send to the Federal Emergency Management Agency in January for approval. Like so many Washington residents, people on the reservation live near or in the woods, complicating firefighting and forest management.
In writing the hazard mitigation plan, tribal staff relied on climate history provided by the University of Washington Climate Impacts Group. While there is evidence of rare catastrophic fires in the region, there is little information about historic tribal management of the forests, North said. Human-ignited, low-intensity fires may well have reduced larger conflagrations.
Off-reservation forests include millions of acres of wildlife habitat, salmon-bearing streams and plant resources that are at risk from a changing global environment. This is where tribal rights afforded under the 1855 Treaty of Port Elliott come into play.
“Most people don’t realize that the tribes didn’t really give up those ceded lands — they basically agreed to share them. So, the future of that territory is of great concern to them,” North said. “The land has been very mismanaged for the last 170 years. The tribes are active stewards.”
Stewardship includes rebuilding landscapes so they will bounce back from fires and floods. Resiliency is a goal of many Tulalip projects. The tribes work with farmers to keep manure out of waterways, creating clean energy in the process. Staff have relocated nuisance beavers that would build salmon-friendly, water-storing forest ponds. Last summer they helped remove a Pilchuck River diversion dam that has blocked salmon migration for 118 years.
The Quil Ceda watershed, which includes Marysville, will see more floods thanks to changing storm patterns and continued development. The Tulalips’ climate strategy highlights this part of Snohomish County because its reservation is at the downstream end of Quil Ceda Creek, where flooding intensifies. The Tulalips are about to open a second casino near the confluence of the meandering creek and the Snohomish River’s wide Ebey Slough.
The Snohomish River Estuary, where saltwater and freshwater mingle, is critical to salmon. The tribes’ climate change strategy acknowledges that sea level rise will change wildlife habitat and raise groundwater levels on the reservation. It potentially could expose hazardous materials at a former riverside landfill, which was capped as part of a federal Superfund cleanup.
The Tulalips will investigate climate change impacts beyond the landscape, such as community health. The World Health Organization has identified risks from wildfires, extreme heat, air pollution and infectious diseases. Indigenous populations face increased risks, according to the EPA.
The Tulalips are also studying water sustainability, which Miller said would be an increasing issue in the next two decades.
“We have complicated Western water law, and we’re seeing the drought season get longer and longer,” he said. “The population is growing. How are we going to sustain that development with a reduction in water? We already don’t have enough water in the rivers, enough water for salmon.”
A 2019 survey of tribal members showed overwhelming concern about the impacts of climate change on animals and plants like salmon, orcas and huckleberries. That’s important information for Jones. His job, which is funded by the Bureau of Indian Affairs, is to educate people about climate change and what the tribes are doing about it. He knows it can be a polarizing topic.
“We want to introduce the science around it, so people can frame their own opinion,” he said. “We want to make people feel they like they can do something about it.”
School lesson plans about climate change will be created by staff at the Hibulb Cultural Center, where the education curator happens to be Jones’s mother.
“We hope to help students understand and continue efforts to protect our salmon, cedar and other natural and cultural resources from the risks and effects of climate change,” said Lena Jones. She noted that the cultural center already has relevant exhibits such as Cedar, Environment, and Protecting Our Traditional Knowledge.
Meade Krosby, a senior scientist with the UW Climate Impacts Group, is working with the Tulalips to determine the impacts on tribally important plants. The Tulalips have been leaders in organizing meetings, conferences and workshops around climate change, she said.
“They appear to be doing the hard and necessary work of mainstreaming climate change across a range of activities,” she said.
The Tulalips’ work is part of a national groundswell of tribal climate change efforts. A Bureau of Indian Affairs climate assessment map highlights hundreds of them; the University of Oregon’s Tribal Climate Change Project also keeps track.
The Affiliated Tribes of Northwest Indians launched its own climate change project in 2014. With Northwest tribal input, UW researchers created an online tool that regional tribes use to assess their vulnerability to climate change. Krosby, who led the project, appreciates the leadership that Native Americans are bringing to climate change.
“The tribes are on it,” she said. “And they’ve been on it — not just adaptation, but mitigation, too.”
Mitigation means reducing the greenhouse gases that are driving climate change. There is only so much that tribes can do about that, said Miller, the treaty rights director.
“The reality is, we have to come together as a country, as a species, to reduce carbon emissions,” Miller said. “Without that, nothing else we do will preserve our culture as it is today — whether it’s tribal culture, or the larger culture of human society.”
Northwest tribes threw their weight behind Washington’s Initiative 1631, which would have increased gasoline taxes and spent part of that revenue on landscape restoration. Voters defeated the measure in 2018.
“That was a difficult pill to swallow for me personally, because I worked hard on it,” Miller said. “And now we’re running out of time.”
That urgency is echoed by Terry Williams. He bemoans the Trump administration’s antagonism to climate change efforts over the past four years.
“We’re wasting time, critical time. We have to be ready to hit the ground running” when president-elect Joe Biden takes office, said Williams, who, despite his official retirement, is still hard at work. A member of the Pacific Salmon Commission, he is starting a salmon migration and ocean habitat mapping project.
Tulalip Tribal Chairwoman Teri Gobin, now 63, recalls 50-pound king chinook being hauled onto the beach in seine nets. As late as the 1990s, it was possible for fishermen like her father, late tribal leader Stan Jones, to make a living from the sea. Back then, Puget Sound orcas had more chinook to eat, too. Those resident killer whales are in danger of starvation.
Despite devastation of the fishery, Gobin finds reason for optimism. Even about climate change. She is excited about the potential for solar energy on the reservation.
“There are lots of programs out there to help us,” she said. “We could retrofit government buildings, possibly tribal housing. We’re talking about having a solar field.”
Gobin finds cause for hope in the resiliency of nature. She cited the Pilchuck Dam removal, which gave salmon access to 37 miles of spawning habitat. Within a couple of months, coho and chinook were spotted upstream of the former dam site.
Gobin is also buoyed by the trust that non-Indians are putting in the Tulalips.
“We’ve had people donating land back to tribe because they know we will fix it. They know we’ll clean up streams and restore shoreline,” she said. “We are the ones they come to, to help get stuff get done.”
This article was originally published in Crosscut.
With each passing month, more and more Washingtonians are suffering under the physical, emotional and financial damages of enduring a lengthy pandemic. And as we find ourselves in the coldest, darkest days of the year during the worst-case surge yet, it can feel like a herculean task just to take a daily walk around the block.
But to break those repetitive days, with some creative thinking many are still finding varied opportunities to play outside with friends — something experts say is essential for well-being.
“One of the big motivating factors for me is knowing how important getting outside is for my mental health,” says Dr. Josh Lawler, an ecologist and professor at the University of Washington who runs the university’s Nature and Health program. “Many studies have linked time spent in nature with improved mood, reduced stress and anxiety, and even reduced rates of depression.”
Some studies found that even little five-minute outdoor excursions can benefit our health — but 20 to 60 minutes is even better.
“Longer experiences can generate more durable and even memorable benefits, but if we think of what is the most basic experience in terms of time in bad weather or darkness, then a half-hour outside seems doable,” says Lawler’s colleague, Dr. Kathleen Wolf. “Nature experiences are fundamental to our well-being. People may be time constrained, yes, but making the effort to go outside isn’t a luxury.”
Seattle Parks and Recreation employees had been working to create socially distanced activities throughout all of COVID-19, says recreation division director Justin Cutler. But as winter approached, they realized they needed to do more. “I think we’re all struggling with social isolation,” says Cutler.
Across the summer and even through the winter, Parks and Recreation has seen a “dramatic increase” in park usage and park program participation, says Cutler’s colleague Lakema Bell, a program coordinator. “We thought that it would die down in the winter, but that’s not been the case,” she says.
Demand for space led the department to launch a new drop-in program for small pandemic pods on city ball fields. “This isn’t for organized games or practices,” Cutler says. “Oftentimes people are precluded from being able to participate in our great ball fields because of organized sports. A drop-in experience where you don’t have to have it on your schedule might make you just say, ‘Hey, I want to go play soccer or Frisbee or lacrosse down at the field today. And let’s go do that.’”
Even beyond Seattle’s parks and green spaces, plenty of people are devising ways to get outside in ways that both meet baseline health needs and replicate some of the wild magic missing from a season without big group activities or trips to faraway mountain towns.
“By mid-summer we knew this would not be your average winter,” says Phil Torres, a Seattle-based scientist and science communicator who was looking forward to big ski trips and rented cabins with friends. “That reality is really hitting during these darker, rainier days, but we realize the responsibility put onto us of keeping our family and community safe. So we have had to find ways to work around it!”
Torres and his wife, Silja Danielsen, relocated from New York to Seattle during the pandemic to be closer to family and nature. As a wildlife biologist, Torres was used to searching for insects around the world. But with travel limited, he started looking for diverse plants and animals while gardening, visiting his bird feeders and walking in his neighborhood.
The couple started learning native species of plants and mushrooms — “especially the edible ones,” he says, “so we would take the same paths watching the trailing blackberries grow until we could finally pick them! I can walk the same safe walk over and over and always be entertained.”
Torres uses iNaturalist, a crowdsourced species identification app that feeds millions of photo uploads into artificial intelligence software, to take vicarious trips to look up plant and animal species he might encounter in parks on future visits. He uses it to explore his backyard, too.
“As a relatively new transplant to this area, it is still really exciting to know that people are finding owls right near my new home, flocks of snow geese only 30 minutes away,” he says.
“Studies have shown positive effects of indoor plants, window views, videos of natural scenes and photos,” Wolf says. However, UW research shows that those effects aren’t likely to be as pronounced as the real thing.
Writer Sabra Boyd used to forage for food as a once-homeless teen in Washington, and the skill has proved extra useful in a pandemic.
She brings home cedar, Oregon grape, chanterelles and Douglas fir in the winter — the latter producing tea with a “bright citrusy pine flavor.” Some of her finds make their way into perfumes. She concocts them with a chemistry distillation kit she bought last spring “because I’m afraid of anosmia and losing my sense of smell to COVID,” she says. She often photographs specimens before collecting them.
“I feel starved for human interaction in a way that I never have felt before, so while I still enjoy many of the same outdoor winter activities as I have before, when I meet another photographer at the same place that I’m photographing, I tend to start a conversation about the wildlife that I saw there last week,” she says. “People in Seattle seem more friendly and connected than ever before this year.”
For snow-averse Bennett Rahn, winter is usually the time to play inside at climbing gyms. But with gyms limited, the tech worker realized she needed a plan to “keep my mental health in shape over the winter,” she said.
She decided to learn how to ski — for real this time, after trying three winters in a row. Rahn bought gear and researched how to ski safely. She decided to focus primarily on backcountry skiing because it’s easier to social distance than at a resort, and the uphill component appealed to her desire for physical challenge.
She usually skis before work and often pursues night runs afterward. She bought a nighttime weekday ski pass for the nearby Summit at Snoqualmie. “I could conceivably see myself doing some lift time on weekdays, but on weekends, I’ve just been doing as much uphill travel as possible,” she says. When the Summit was closed, she was able to do uphill travel at the resort itself. She’s been going to Paradise at Mount Rainier a lot, too, but says it gets crowded.
Despite her success on the slopes, she says it is unlikely to replace her first love: climbing.
“I’m getting better at [skiing]. And I’m liking it more and more. And I’m so grateful for it as an activity that I can channel some of this manic energy into,“ she says. “But would I rather be climbing? 130%. Would I rather be at the climbing gym even? Yes. There’s a sauna there.”
Finding the easy moments
For Kindra Ramos, director of communications at the Washington Trails Association, 2020 has taught her that you don’t need to travel great distances to get to nature, or even dedicate significant time to reap its benefits. “Figuring out new ways to appreciate what’s right in front of me has been very special, and kind of a gift in its own way,” she says.
Ramos has ways to make even nearby hikes special: She rises early to avoid crowds, packs a thermos of her favorite warm holiday beverage and takes extra time to watch a waterfall or listen to the rain.
Ramos has taken to exploring her neighborhood on foot, adding novelty by picking a direction at night and walking to find holiday lights. “I keep pushing myself a little bit further, and every time I see a light display, I’ll change my course,” she says. “It helps mix up the neighborhood walk you’ve now been doing for nine months, with my directions set by, ‘Oh, that’s pretty!’ and figuring out what I like.”
Even on cold, wet days when she dreads going outside, Ramos finds it helps to commit to just five minutes outside, and blocking it off on a daily calendar around lunchtime. “‘You will stand there for five minutes, you will walk somewhere, I don’t care, stare at the darn tree for five minutes,’” she tells herself. On hard days, she centers herself by visiting a big oak tree in her neighborhood to watch the squirrels and listen to the leaves: “It’s not just a walk in the park: It’s a breath of air that you might not have gotten any other way.
“The world is really hard right now. … Find as many easy moments as possible, [give yourself] permission to feel good about that, and let that be enough.”
Break the cycle
When Meghan Young, founder of the Pacific Northwest Outdoor Women group, started hearing estimates about a second spike in COVID cases, she knew she’d have to change her winter plans.
Indoor cycling, which she picked up in May, has helped her stay connected to the greater world without leaving the house. Young had never enjoyed spin class, but when friends raved about the Peloton Bike and the associated fitness app with virtual map features, she gave it a shot — and this time it stuck. “As much as I identify as a ‘weather be damned’ outdoorsy person, the thought of riding so many miles in the freezing rain is entirely unappealing to me!” she says.
On Sept. 13, she began working toward a goal of virtually riding across the country from San Diego to Jacksonville, Florida — a lofty goal expansive enough to carry her through the start of winter. “It also gave me a sense of agency in a world that’s been very challenging — the feeling that I could choose at least one of my ‘hardships.’ Elective suffering is a privilege that I’m lucky to take on,” she says.
Four-season cyclist Cory Potts has always preferred recreating in the city in the winter, riding to meet friends at restaurants or their homes instead of going into nature. “Riding for me is about how I engage with the city and with other people,” says Potts, who runs the Center for Bicycle Repair.
While winter riding is old hat for Potts, the way he’s riding is novel. Potts has been riding one roughly 8.5-mile route around Lake Union daily since March. He knew, physically and mentally, that he could tackle it and make an odd habit out of his approach: He only rides counterclockwise.
“Part of me, I think, wanted to have a meaningless fixed route to ride because even though it is meaningless, it is something I can control,” he says.
The ride seems monotonous on its surface, but his relationship with it has deepened to reveal Seattle’s complexity. Riding between Capitol Hill, Fremont/Wallingford, and South Lake Union — watching businesses open and close, unsanctioned encampments grow and disperse, barricades rise up around police precincts and businesses, whole convention centers transform from pit to building — has made him appreciate how distinguishable Amazon’s campus is from the rest of the city.
“This part of Seattle feels anesthetized or like it’s embalmed,” he says. The sidewalks are pressure washed every three days; there’s no debris and no unhoused people. “It’s clean, in an ugly way.”
Pursuing small wonders
Seattle author David Williams, whose writing explores how Seattle’s built environment is part of and influenced by the natural environment, has been leading walking tours of the city for close to 20 years (now virtually, for Airbnb). He has a history of finding new ways to experience old things close to home —a hugely valuable skill for people walking the same routes on repeat.
For Williams, a self-described “aficionado of small wonders,” those walks might be physically in the same place — but they have different qualities, different weather, different animals every day. You might notice new things, depending on where you look.
“I’m not encouraging people to pry, but particularly in urban and downtown environments, there are these amazing details you wouldn’t see if you didn’t have binoculars or didn’t look down at your feet,” Williams says.
Sometimes, forcing himself to be more observant involves Seattle-themed bingo cards and scavenger hunts. Williams and his wife recently “traveled to Kenya” by cooking Kenyan recipes, listening to a Nairobi bookstore’s podcast and calling an old friend who lived in Nairobi for two decades. They completed their adventure by taking a pseudo-safari downtown in search of lion accents on buildings. They found 283 lion heads, big and small, from a few feet off the ground to 30 stories up.
“We found [lions] I had never seen before … and how many times have I walked through downtown Seattle? Dozens and dozens. There’s so much out there to discover,” he says.
And even in the dead of winter, during a pandemic that narrows our world, it doesn’t have to limit its depth, he says. Winter urban hikes offer their own sort of beauty and thrill, especially for people craving signs of human life. “The other thing about an urban environment that you don’t get in a wild environment is, people just do nutty shit. Particularly nowadays, with the holidays.”
“I [just] saw an inflatable Zamboni. Who knew you could get an inflatable Zamboni?”
This year, the Washington Ocean Acidification Center was selected to be included in the AGU Thought Leadership Series, which profiles the work and research of urgent environmental issues. WOAC was selected due to the desire to spotlight centers that are “working against the clock” to alleviate ocean acidification.
A commitment to innovation powered the University of Washington to a No. 7 ranking for graduate entrepreneurship programs by The Princeton Review. The 2021 ranking marks an all-time high — solidifying UW and the Foster School of Business as a leader in entrepreneurial education and incubation within the Pac-12 and across the Western United States.
The Princeton Review considers responses to a 60+ question survey sent to more than 300 undergraduate and graduate schools offering entrepreneurship studies. The survey looks at the opportunities for aspiring student entrepreneurs both inside and outside the classroom including the quality and quantity of courses, faculty and mentors available.
“We are a world-class innovative community built on the impactful work and collaboration of the Foster School’s Buerk Center for Entrepreneurship, our faculty and partners like UW CoMotion across the UW,” said Frank Hodge, Orin and Janet Smith dean of the Foster School. “The insights we foster together will better humanity and propel us forward for a better tomorrow.”
UW and the Foster School also rose seven spots to No. 21 overall for undergraduate entrepreneurship programs. The 40+ survey data points in the ranking methodology include the number of startups founded by recent alumni. Over the past ten years, graduate alumni have launched more than 540 ventures independent of the school and brought in over $270 million in fundraising and investment. During the same timeframe, undergraduate alumni launched more than 468 independent ventures and raised over $85 million.
During the past five years, UW CoMotion executed more than 1,950 licenses and spun out 73 startups which have gone on to raise over $4.4B in funding. Today, UW spinoffs employ more than 4,000 people in the state of Washington.
“UW is consistently ranked as the most innovative public university, and with some of the most creative faculty and students in the world, innovation is truly part of our DNA,” said François Baneyx, UW vice provost for innovation and director of CoMotion. “We are thrilled to help these scientists transform their ideas into economic and societal impact that makes a difference at the global scale.”
UW education and programming work in symbiosis with one of the top startup ecosystems in the world. In FY 2018, the university drove $15.7 billion in economic activity for the state. In late January, UW created an Innovation Roundtable featuring leading venture capitalists, angel investors and innovative leaders. UW also launched a new Innovation Imperative website focused on both the on-campus and regional entrepreneurial ecosystem.
The Foster School’s Buerk Center for Entrepreneurship and UW CoMotion operate as hubs for community, faculty and student collaboration — working with colleges and department across the UW-Seattle, Tacoma and Bothell campuses (as well as the Global Innovation Exchange which operates in partnership with China’s Tsinghua University and Microsoft) to connect students to major VC firms, angel investing groups and entrepreneurs in every industry in the region.
The Buerk Center hosts three student innovation and startup competitions open to colleges and universities across the Pacific Northwest, British Columbia and Alaska — as well as the non-academic Jones + Foster Accelerator program. Since 2010, more than 85% of those who received seed funding from the Accelerator are still in business today.
“Our commitment to empowering students to create impactful ventures has never been stronger,” said Amy Sallin, director of the Buerk Center. “We believe in creating academic and extracurricular experiences with both depth and breadth while also supporting dedicated initiatives to diversity, equity and inclusion. Together, UW’s students, faculty and community partners are building a model for growth that rivals any in the world.”
The Foster School features the Undergraduate Young Executives of Color Program (YEOC), a six-week end of summer Business Bridge program, as well as a women’s Leadership Summit. In 2020, UW’s signature Dempsey Startup Competition had female students as founders or cofounders on 37% of the 97 teams that competed.
Entrepreneurship students are also given the access and opportunity to participate in programs in partnership with global leaders such as Amazon Catalyst, CoMotion Labs, the Institute for Protein Design, the Clean Energy Institute, as well as fellowships in technology commercialization and social entrepreneurship.
In the past two years, UW also partnered to create the Washington Maritime Accelerator, the BECU FinTech Incubator at CoMotion, the UW EarthLab and the WE-REACH Biomedical Entrepreneurship Center among others.
The Princeton Review rankings are available online and will also be published in the December issue of Entrepreneur Magazine.
Today the University of Washington announced that more than 50 UW researchers were featured on the Highly Cited Researchers 2020 list, as reported by the Institute for Scientific Information at Clarivate. We’re proud to share that three researchers on the list have affiliations with EarthLab:
- Edward (Eddie) Allison, Ocean Nexus Center
- Julian Olden, Future Rivers
- Spencer Wood, Nature and Health
Congratulations to these researchers!
The full UW article is reprinted below in its entirety.
The highly anticipated annual list identifies researchers who demonstrated significant influence in their chosen field or fields through the publication of multiple highly cited papers during the last decade. Their names are drawn from the publications that rank in the top 1% by citations for field and publication year in the Web of Science citation index.
The list includes:
- Edward Hugh Allison
- David Baker
- Michael J Bamshad
- Mike Brauer
- Guozhong Cao
- William A. Catterall
- David H. Cobden
- Aaron Cohen
- Louisa Degenhardt
- Patchen Dellinger
- Evan E. Eichler
- Jerry F. Franklin
- Valery Feigin
- Michael J. Gale
- Simon I. Hay
- Celestia S. Higano
- Alex K. Y. Jen
- Eric B. Larson
- Choli Lee
- Chang-Zi Li
- Alan Lopez
- Gary H. Lyman
- Michael J. McPhaden
- Sergey Menis
- Ali Mokdad
- Chris Murray
- Mohsen Naghavi
- Marian L. Neuhouser
- Graham Nichol
- Deborah A. Nickerson
- William S. Noble
- Julian D. Olden
- David M. Pigott
- Colin C. Pritchard
- Ganesh Raghu
- Philip J. Rasch
- Brian Saelens
- Kyle L. Seyler
- Jay Shendure
- David Smith
- John A. Stamatoyannopoulos
- Yang-Kook Sun
- Joel A. Thornton
- Cole Trapnell
- Piper Treuting
- Theo Vos
- Daniela M. Witten
- Harvey Whiteford
- Spencer A. Wood
- Xiaodong Xu
- Jesse R. Zaneveld
- Maigeng Zhou
- Junfa F. Zhu
The methodology that determines the “who’s who” of influential researchers draws on the data and analysis performed by bibliometric experts and data scientists at the Institute for Scientific Information at Clarivate. It also uses the tallies to identify the countries and research institutions where these scientific elite are based.
The full 2020 Highly Cited Researchers list and executive summary can be found online here.