I don’t know why the latest IPCC report had to drop first thing on a Monday morning, but I’m sure the volunteer researchers had their reasons. On bleak days such as this, I sometimes feel that comedy’s place in the climate movement is much like a tomato in a fruit salad. Inappropriate and frankly quite gross.
So, to tackle my general anxiety and malaise, I spent the rest of the day restlessly skimming academic pieces on narratives of climate change, trying to work out where humour might fit in. At first, I found myself retreading some old, reliable ground – the reassuring notion that narratives of environmental ‘tragedy’ feed into climate doomism, while comedy offers the optimism necessary to effect change. But I also quickly came across a term that I hadn’t ever heard before, and for the first time that grim day, it was one that actually made me laugh.
‘Charismatic megafauna’ popped up in Imagining Extinction, a book by Ursula K. Heise about the cultural narratives surrounding endangered animals. Among all the species threatened by environmental exploitation and the climate crisis, ‘charismatic megafauna’ are the ones that get all the airtime. It’s the lions and tigers and bears (oh my) that receive the media attention and conservation funding, whilst the less photogenic animals tend to be side-lined, even if their ongoing existence is more fundamental to the survival of entire ecosystems.
Perhaps this is no surprise – ‘Salmon King’ maybe wouldn’t have quite the same Netflix appeal as its big cat equivalent. But it is telling that there is a close correlation between public emotional investment and conservation efforts, indicating that environmental action is more often influenced by politics and culture than science. And so, the stories that are told about the environmental crisis certainly do have a big impact on which issues are prioritised.
This brings me to Geronimo, an alpaca euthanised last month after his owner’s four-year legal battle failed to save his life. I was late to the party on learning about this enigmatic camelid but, like many others before me, I became unable to tear myself away from the ongoing twists and turns of his story. This was doubtless not helped by the Big Brother-esque 24hr live camera feed from Geronimo’s pen, which broadcast the alpaca largely just eating grass and being pestered by the occasional journalist.
For those who don’t know, Geronimo had tested positive for bovine TB – a serious disease that primarily affects cattle but can spread to other animals, including humans. To allow for false positives on their tests, the government allows animals to be retested once – after which Geronimo was once again diagnosed with bovine TB. As usual in these cases, the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (DEFRA) issued a warrant for Geronimo’s ‘destruction’ (their words, not mine) to prevent the disease from spreading any further.
However, Geronimo’s owner made multiple legal bids to save her beloved friend, citing the test’s tendency to return dodgy results and its lack of testing specifically on alpacas. Another piece of evidence in their favour was the fact that bovine TB is a disease that is generally fatal, whilst Geronimo remained, against the odds and DEFRA’s wishes, still very much alive. As a result, some considered Geronimo’s case compelling enough to keep him alive despite the potential for contagion, to be ‘compassionately studied’ as a potential survivor of the deadly bacterial infection.
But others disagreed, and DEFRA were reluctant to give the animal a third test as it might encourage other animal owners to demand repeated tests upon receiving unwanted results. To put Geronimo’s case into some statistical perspective, there were upwards of 4,000 positive cases of bovine TB in 2018, with roughly 40,000 animals slaughtered to limit its spread in the same period. The vast majority of animals killed have no testing for the disease at all, including controversial badger culls to keep the disease in check.
In the end, DEFRA didn’t consider it appropriate to give the alpaca special treatment despite his celebrity status, and so, despite the press and the pleas of his many supporters, Geronimo’s death warrant was eventually carried out.
I don’t have a hot take on this story, but like most of its followers I am compelled by all the unknown quantities and the weird Hollywood energy surrounding it. TB or not TB? That was one question. But also, what’s the story on Geronimo being named after the 19th century Native American military leader, who defended indigenous land against colonising US and Mexican forces? And, crucially, what made everyone so ride or die for this one alpaca?
The only certainty is that Geronimo’s story captured the imagination of the nation, an uncomfortable truth in the week that saw the fast development of a human rights crisis in Afghanistan. The perceived injustice of the alpaca’s treatment sparked protests and petitions in the UK, and I hope that we can collectively continue to take action, pushing the government and demanding the rights of refugees through the same means that supported Geronimo’s case.
Due to his personal endangerment, rather than that of his species, Geronimo has managed to achieve a great deal of media coverage – a warning of the powerful pull of charismatic megafauna. It’s not that his story is unimportant. Charismatic megafauna, like Geronimo the alpaca, are animals that deserve to be treated with kindness and respect. But the space and energy the media give these individual cases can distract from reporting on wider collective suffering and injustices. The species (or ‘fauna’) of this world shouldn’t have to be ‘charismatic’ or ‘mega’ to deserve respect and compassion. Few living things manage to tick all those boxes. They’re rare breeds. Literally.
For information on how to get involved in campaigns supporting refugees and asylum seekers, click here.
For information on charities and organisations looking for contributions to support those resettling from Afghanistan, click here.
Alison Middleton is a PhD student studying laughter in tragedy, which is not nearly as funny as she had hoped. She started up Comedy vs Climate Change in 2019, back when live events were a thing we did (imagine?!). To address the deep void she usually filled with stand-up and sketch comedy, she’s recently taken her writing to publications like Funny Women and Chortle. She has amassed a small but loyal following of Facebook based reply-guys.