TATE LAVITT ’10: At the Intersection of Ecosystems & Economies

When Tate Lavitt ’10 talks about his life, it’s not a neat elevator pitch or a linear résumé. It’s a cascade of stories—about camping in Mongolia, discovering a new species of moth, running multi-million dollar biotech deals, and writing prize-winning essays on biodiversity finance. If that sounds like a lot, that’s because it is.

But running through the whirlwind of experiences is a steady current of purpose: a desire to protect the planet’s biodiversity, challenge how we value nature, and find new ways to bring science and policy together. For Tate, that purpose was first set in motion at Millbrook. Tate came to Millbrook with his twin sister, Mariah, when they were just 14. Their family chose the school in part because of the Trevor Zoo—an attraction not just for its novelty, but because their father, Jed Lavitt ’73, had also attended Millbrook decades earlier and cared for animals at the zoo. As Tate shares, his father was transformed in high school. “My dad went from seeking direction as a kid to absolutely thriving at Millbrook,” Tate explains. “It completely changed his life, and he wanted us to have that same opportunity.” Though the adjustment to boarding life was rocky, Tate found solace and fascination in the zoo. He also immersed himself in ceramics, entomology, and the kind of hands-on, interdisciplinary learning that would come to define his adult experiences.

One experience, in particular, left a lasting mark on Tate: a field research expedition to Mongolia with Millbrook’s then Science Department Chair Dr. Barry Rosenbaum to study endangered argali sheep. “I’d never been camping before, and suddenly I’m halfway across the world digging latrines and collecting camel dung for fuel,” he recalls with a laugh.

The group didn’t end up collaring any sheep, but the expedition opened his eyes to field biology, global ecosystems, and the thrill of real scientific inquiry. “It was brutal, it was wild, and it was unforgettable. It changed the way I thought about science, and the world.”

That trip, coupled with on-campus conversations with and mentorship from legendary conservationists like Professor Thomas Lovejoy ’59 and Dr. Russell Mittermeier P’11, cemented Tate’s passion for biodiversity and began to shape a broader question that would follow him into adulthood: how do we assign value to nature?

Matriculating to Cornell, Tate initially set out to become a veterinarian. But after a serendipitous enrollment in a spider biology course, he found himself captivated by entomology—the study of insects. Encouraged by his grandfather, a fellow insect enthusiast who felt that inquiry in the natural world was critical to his success in other fields, Tate switched majors and spent his undergraduate years immersed in research. He played polo, joined a fraternity, studied business, and studied bugs. His work ultimately led to the identification of a new moth species, Eupsilia schweitzeri, and a research paper detailing the microscopic differences that set it apart from others. “It was an incredibly detailed, painstaking process,” he says. “But it taught me how to do hard, precise work—and how small differences can matter a lot.”

After graduating with his bachelor’s degree from Cornell, Tate took a detour into biotech sales. He excelled—eventually managing territories worth tens of millions of dollars—but the work felt transactional. “I was doing well, but I wasn’t doing what I cared about,” he reflects. That realization led him back to school. At the University of Cambridge, Tate earned a master’s in biology studying the endangered Duke of Burgundy butterfly (Hamearis lucina). His project involved analyzing how limited conservation resources could be most effectively deployed to save the species, merging ecology with cost-benefit strategy. He followed that with an MBA from Cambridge as well, where he sharpened his understanding of capital markets and risk management. Somewhere in the overlap of those two degrees, a new question emerged: could biodiversity itself be quantified as a form of financial value?

This question became the foundation of a paper Tate authored during his MBA, inspired by a lunch conversation with Lovejoy years earlier at Millbrook. It explored how Lovejoy’s invention, debt-for-nature swaps—financial arrangements in which developing countries receive debt relief in exchange for commitments to environmental protection—could be expanded and optimized. “Debt-for-nature swaps are brilliant, but there’s more we can do,” Tate explains. “The key is understanding and modeling risk—how tools that did not exist when Professor Lovejoy was originally framing debt for nature. Things like carbon credits, conservation incentives, or green infrastructure actually change the financial picture.”

The paper was selected as a finalist in a McKinsey essay competition. Its premise was simple but ambitious: if financial institutions could account for the intrinsic and long-term economic value of biodiversity, then investments in conservation could become less risky and more attractive. “Think about a country like Madagascar,” Tate says. “It’s incredibly rich in biodiversity but considered highrisk financially. What if we could change that equation?” By building better models that capture the financial upside of saving forests or species, Tate believes we can unlock trillions in capital for climate and conservation efforts.

Today, Tate leads a global product team at a life sciences company, overseeing a $75 million business line centered on animal-derived serum used in cell growth for pharmaceuticals and research. It might seem like an unexpected role for someone with a background in insects, butterflies, and finance, but he’s found great success by thinking outside the box about the business and the biology. “I have to think about global supply chains, animal health, regulation, and economics,” he says. “It’s biodiversity, an ecosystem, in a different form.”

Tate credits Millbrook for giving him the flexibility to explore—and the confidence to pursue—unconventional paths. “Millbrook taught me that you don’t have to pick one thing. You can play polo, do ceramics, study lemurs, and talk to world-renowned scientists—and that’s all okay. In fact, it’s encouraged.” That eclectic, well-rounded education helped him learn how to learn and how to build bridges between fields that don’t always speak the same language. “I’ve spent my life connecting dots between science, policy, and finance. Millbrook was where that started.”

This June, Millbrook formally renamed the zoo the Trevor-Lovejoy Zoo in honor of Dr. Lovejoy, whose mentorship helped shape Tate’s early passion for conservation. For Tate, the moment is both symbolic and deeply personal. “Lovejoy changed my life,” he says. “And Millbrook taught me to ask big questions.”

Tate continues to explore that intersection of conservation and economics in his professional and personal life. Whether he’s structuring global contracts, advising on biodiversity policy, or modeling risk and resilience for public companies, he stays focused on the long game: preserving ecosystems, protecting the planet, and reimagining how we invest in the future. The next step in his career will be a return to school in pursuit of a PhD at the University of Oxford, and his goal will be to build on and expand the debt for nature ideas first proposed by Lovejoy. “We can’t protect what we don’t value,” he says. “And if we want to create a future that works—for people, for ecosystems, for economies, for our planet—we need to start thinking differently. I am honored to continue the work of Professor Lovejoy.”