Some people carve their path through persistence and hard work while others seem to stumble into success by sheer luck. Dr. Phil Morin has managed to do both—building a career shaped by determination, opportunity, and discovery. Today, he represents the Cetaceans Genome Project on the Earth BioGenome Project (EBP) Membership Council, applying cutting-edge genomics to protect marine mammals and safeguard their ecosystems. Driven by a commitment to conservation through genetics, Dr. Morin’s journey has been anything but ordinary—marked by unexpected turns, global travel, vibrant collaborations, and, of course, an abundance of genomes.

Educating Dr. Morin

Raised in a family of biologists in Minnesota, Phil seemed destined for a career in science. Drawn westward for his education, he studied chemistry and biology at the University of Puget Sound, a small liberal arts college near his grandparents, before earning a place in the inaugural class of the combined DVM/PhD program at the University of Minnesota. Yet instead of returning to the Midwest, Phil took what he thought would be a short detour: a one-year lab technician position at the Northwest Fisheries Science Center. That decision changed everything. “I just loved it,” he recalls. “I loved the lab work. I loved the idea of doing population genetics and evolutionary genetics. It was a great experience.” What truly captivated him wasn’t fish, but the science itself—the challenge of extracting DNA and experimenting with the then-cutting-edge techniques of restriction fragment length polymorphisms and mitochondrial DNA analysis. “It was the first way we could get genetic information directly from DNA. Learning those lab techniques was incredibly exciting.”

Inspired, Phil applied broadly to PhD programs in genetics, determined to pursue conservation of endangered species. He ultimately chose the University of California, San Diego, where both a friend and family lived nearby. There, he left fish behind and immersed himself in a project on the paternity of lion-tailed macaques, an endangered primate. The work, aimed at improving captive breeding management, brought him under the mentorship of Oliver Ryder and Dave Woodruff, both leaders in conservation biology. Through this experience, Phil gained a new perspective on the global biodiversity crisis. “Conservation was the main goal driving my PhD and everything since then,” he explains. His graduate years coincided with a turning point in science: the invention of PCR. For the first time, researchers could amplify and sequence DNA from the tiniest tissue samples. “It was a revolution in genetics,” Phil says. “As a graduate student learning PCR, I was among the first to show that you could study wild organisms using just small bits of samples.”

The Jane Goodall Experience

After several funding setbacks for projects on African ungulates and primates, Phil attended a lecture in San Diego by Jane Goodall. By chance, his advisor invited him to a small lunch with her afterward. That conversation changed the course of his career.

Goodall’s decades of behavioral data from her renowned chimpanzee community lacked the genetic evidence needed to confirm paternity. Phil proposed a novel solution: use genetic tools to match behavioral observations with reproductive success—without disturbing the chimps themselves. “They shed hair and build nests in the trees,” he explained. “In the morning, when they left, I could climb up and collect the hairs.”

Goodall invited him to her home in Dar es Salaam, where he spent a week reviewing her meticulous research records, mapping behaviors, consortships, and conceptions. He then headed into the mountains for a month, climbing trees to gather hair samples from abandoned nests. “It was a tremendous experience,” Phil reflects, “but I learned that field biology is not my strength.” The turning point came when he returned to San Diego and transformed those fragile hairs into data—developing new methods, genotyping chimps, and piecing together family trees. That work culminated in a landmark Science paper on the hierarchical relationships of chimpanzees in Gombe, complete with his own photograph on the cover. “It was such an exciting project—so much recognition and so much potential for conservation genetics, which had barely begun at the time. I wasn’t the first, but it helped launch the field and opened many doors for me.”

The experience confirmed where Phil’s greatest impact lay: not in the forest canopy, but in the lab. “Genetics opened a window into questions field biology alone could never answer. I realized my strength was in collaboration—supporting the field researchers while I focused on developing the genetic insights.”

Inspiration Matters: lessons from Daphnia

To sharpen his research skills, Phil pursued a postdoc in genetics at the University of Oregon, studying the evolution of sex in Daphnia. The work was intellectually engaging—the tiny crustaceans switch between sexual and asexual reproduction, offering elegant evolutionary questions. But Phil soon recognized a crucial lesson: inspiration matters. “I tried so hard to be interested in Daphnia,” he recalls. “The genetics were fascinating, but the species itself didn’t inspire me.” When his funding ran out, Phil followed his instincts back to primates, joining a postdoctoral position at the University of California, Davis.

Biotech Bonanza

Looking to settle down, Phil moved into industry and joined a human genomics company in San Diego focused on identifying genes linked to complex diseases such as osteoporosis, diabetes, and obesity. The team needed someone with both primate experience and strong laboratory skills to develop genetic markers, apply them in genotyping and sequencing, and then perform association analyses to connect genes with traits. Phil started as a postdoc and, within five years, rose to head of the genetics department. Under his leadership, the group generated millions of genotypes from thousands of human and non-human subjects. “It was a crash course in cutting-edge technology,” Phil recalled. “I learned how large-scale genetics could be transformed when you had the funding. With the right resources, you could generate orders of magnitude more data than I ever imagined as a student. It was an incredible learning experience.” Eventually, the company was acquired and reorganized. But once again, chance steered Phil’s career in a new direction—this time, to Germany.

Visiting Scholar: do whatever you want

While at a conference, Phil met future Nobel laureate Svante Pääbo, the newly appointed head of evolutionary genetics at the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig. Phil’s combined expertise in primate and human research caught Pääbo’s attention. “He said, ‘Come in as a visiting scientist and do whatever you want,’” Phil remembered. A move to Germany was intriguing to Phil and exciting to his husband, Béla Dornon, so the couple jumped at this opportunity. Also at the Institute was Christoph Boesch, a primatologist who had established a Jane Goodall–style program in Côte d’Ivoire. After a year, Phil was eager to dive back into conservation genetics. Both Pääbo and Boesch encouraged him, extending his appointment for two more years and providing him with staff, funding, and complete academic freedom. “It was one of those moments where I had to ask myself: if I could study anything, what would it be?” For Phil, the answer was clear—developing genetic tools that conservation biologists everywhere could use, even without deep expertise in genetics, to accelerate the study and protection of endangered species.

NOAA and the Cetacean Genomes Project

A mother and calf vaquita surface in the waters off San Felipe, Mexico. As recently as Fall 2021 vaquitas were seen with calves. Credit: Paula Olson, 2008.

Shortly after the events of September 11, 2001, international research funding dried up, prompting Phil to return to the United States—where, once again, opportunity found him. His colleague Barbara Taylor, newly appointed head of the marine mammal genetics program at Southwest Fisheries Science Center, was searching for a geneticist to work with the world’s largest collection of marine mammal tissues. Phil leapt at the chance. “I’ve been here for 21 years,” he reflected, “and it’s been one opportunity after another to ask: what pressing conservation questions can we answer with genetics?” From mapping genetic diversity and population structure to investigating species’ ranges, ecological roles, and abundance, Phil’s work has spanned the full breadth of marine mammal population biology. “We’ve studied everything from social organization and reproductive patterns to defining species for the first time based solely on genetic evidence.”

One of his flagship efforts, the Cetacean Genomes Project, is a purely scientific collaboration without dedicated funding. “Because I worked with the largest collection of samples and had connections to researchers across the globe, I was in a unique position to coordinate,” he explained. His collaborations now extend to many Earth BioGenome Project (EBP) affiliates, including the Vertebrate Genomes Project (VGP) and the Darwin Tree of Life. With the growing wealth of genomic data, Marine Mammal biologists are now tackling fundamental questions: How do certain species specialize in particular diets? How did certain species evolve to live entirely in the ocean, dive to depths of almost two miles, or exploit food that is patchy and seasonal? How did they adapt to migrate across vast distances and grow to lengths exceeding 100 feet?

At the heart of Phil’s research lies both deep biological curiosity and a commitment to conservation. “Protecting biodiversity isn’t about saving a single species—it’s about preserving the evolutionary process and the ecosystems that sustain all life, including our own. As a geneticist, I can learn more from the genetics than I ever could just by going out on boats to see them. And I can use that knowledge to help ensure we protect them more effectively.”

The Intersection of Art and Science

Phil’s pursuit of science and conservation has been balanced by the influence and support of his husband Béla, an artist and writer. The couple’s relationship, which began when they were both students in 1988, flourished in the accepting and progressive world of conservation science. Béla encouraged Phil to explore his burgeoning interest for creating richly textured and vibrant ceramic art. Late in the twentieth century, Phil enrolled in a ceramics class at a small San Diego studio—a decision that sparked a 25-year passion. “When I’m not doing science, I prefer to do art of various types,” he says. “Science is creative, and I think there are a tremendous number of artists in the scientific community.”

That creativity eventually merged with conservation. Together with Barbara Taylor, he co-created a special award for the Society for Marine Mammalogy’s Conservation Award (2015). With no budget for trophies, Taylor asked Phil to craft ceramic bowls for each of the 15 honorees—including the former President of Mexico and the country’s Minister of the Environment—while she designed the edging. “We try to incorporate art into our science and conservation as much as we can,” Phil says. For him, art and science are two sides of the same impulse: honoring creativity, celebrating beauty, and ensuring that what is precious—whether a species or a craft—endures.

Written by: Nicolette Caperello (Earth BioGenome Project: Executive Director)