Prof. Diana Pazmiño: Rays, Research and the Real Guardians of the Galápagos

About this episode:

A Galápagos native – born on Isla Isabela – marine biologist and conservation geneticist Diana Pazmiño focuses her research on rays, sharks, and the human communities that live alongside them.

In this relaxed discussion with David Oakes, Diana explains why she brings conservation science home, how education shapes what gets noticed, valued, and protected, and what ‘protected’ actually means in practice – especially in those liminal spaces where rules and regulations require regular enforcement.

Nothing epitomises Diana’s belief in the value of education more than the project she initiated on the archipelago – The Gill’s Club. Empowering girls aged 8 to 12 across the four inhabited islands of the Galápagos through experiential learning in marine science and conservation, The Gill’s Club fosters a strong bond with the ocean, develops aquatic skills, critical thinking, and female leadership.

They also explore what happens when conservation becomes purely prohibitive, how bans can drive use underground, and why durable protection depends on local buy-in, education, and a sense of shared identity that’s still being built.

This episode was recorded live at the Galápagos Science Centre on Isla San Cristóbal in the Galápagos.

David's thoughts:

Before I talk about the (two) most recent episodes of Trees A Crowd, it’s worth explaining why I was in the Galápagos in the first place — and in truth, that story begins several years earlier….

I started this podcast in 2018, in part out of a growing sense of guilt. At the time, with climate change dominating headlines (sadly, it still does), my day job as an actor was taking me all over the world – with every flight, my carbon footprint grew. I needed to work; we all need to work. But as a self-employed actor, turning down jobs is rarely straightforward, and the most lucrative opportunities were often those furthest from home. So, in part, I created the podcast to give each journey a dual purpose. If I had to travel, that travel would serve two outcomes: one professional, one environmental. One carbon stone, but two positive birds (certainly not the correct metaphor in this context!) Acting would remain my vocation, but conservation storytelling would become an increasingly central part of my public identity, having already consumed my private conscience. If I were to move around the globe, I would use that abnormal access to amplify the voices of the people fighting to protect it.

It is fair to say that I have wanted to visit the Galápagos since childhood: 13 species of freakishly giant tortoises; comically named birds with blue feet; iguanas that swim in the sea and eat algae – as a species, one that Darwin called “imps of darkness”, and with one subspecies named after Godzilla himself; even a finch that drinks blood… the list goes on! It sounds less like a place and more like a Lovecraftian fever dream. As I grew older, the dream only intensified. Then this podcast came along, and every naturalist I met who had been lucky enough to visit the archipelago spoke about the incredible diving, the density of life, and the manic beauty of evolution laid bare. I had to see it for myself – but the hope that the BBC might shoot a miniseries on Darwin and Wolf was more far-fetched than the possibility that marine iguanas could shrink in response to famine (which they do – gotta LOVE a marine iguana!)

An ethical opportunity finally presented itself through a master’s programme at the University of Exeter. Partnered with the Universidad San Francisco de Quito, it included a two-week field course on the archipelago, contributing manpower to ongoing research projects whilst gaining firsthand experience of conservation in action. How could I say no?! But before leaving, to reflect the dual nature of my international travels these days, I reached out to trusted contacts to ask a simple question: “Whom should I get on the podcast?”

I contacted the Manta Trust (to which I am a Patron), already aware of the Ecuadorian Manta Project, to see who was best placed there to talk to me about our large flappy friends. I reached out to Jen Jones at the Galápagos Conservation Trust to ask who was working at the intersection of conservation and the local community. And I spoke to Andy Russell, the course leader at Exeter, to see who might be best to talk to about genetics on the islands. Three topics that fascinate me; three podcasts for you guys… and, to my surprise, all three conversations led to the same name: Diana Pazmiño.

As you’ll hear in this episode, Diana is extraordinary. A force of nature in her own right – well-suited to such an iconic locale. Her approach to conservation is holistic in the truest sense. She is a geneticist whose research informs fisheries policy. She is a scientist who works shoulder-to-shoulder with local communities. She is as comfortable publishing papers as she is shaping tourism practices or advocating for species protection. For her, everything connects: genetics, livelihoods, education, enforcement, tourism, policy. Nothing exists in isolation.

What I find most inspiring is that, Diana, as a homegrown scientist who has chosen to stay, the Galápagos has a champion who understands it not as an abstract laboratory (as so many visiting scientists view it), but as home. That matters. It means young girls growing up on the islands can see what leadership in science and conservation looks like – not imported, but embodied. Representation is not a buzzword; it is a living, breathing example. The Galápagos Science Centre, too – where Diana works – is part of that same philosophy: community-embedded, research-led, locally empowered science. And we’ll explore that further in next week’s episode with Professor Carlos Mena.

Ultimately, human settlement in the Galápagos is recent, only around 400 years. In ecological terms, that is the blink of an eye. The damage caused by invasive species, exploitation, and the persecution of native wildlife is recent. Reversible? Hopefully. If there is anywhere on Earth where restoration at a meaningful scale is possible, surely it is here. The world watches the Galápagos. Conservation funding flows towards it. Its symbolism is unmatched. If we cannot succeed in safeguarding a place so globally cherished – a place synonymous with evolution itself – what hope do we have for landscapes where we have been extracting, burning, clearing and hunting for tens of thousands of years longer?

And through all this, it is worth remembering that the Galápagos is not lush in the way people imagine equatorial islands to be. It is volcanic, stark, wind-scoured. Harsh. Angular. Sometimes almost confrontational in its beauty. But that severity is part of its magic. It feels elemental. Uncompromising. And it deserves to remain that way — fierce, resilient, and defiantly alive. For that, we need champions like Diana.