We are expecting a lot from the climate change conference in Copenhagen: emissions targets, a new concord between developed and developing worlds, a plan to save the world. And we can probably expect hot air, diplomatic failures and stirring speeches too. What we don’t expect is any gags. Not even a sneaky one about polar bears.
Polar bears are off limits, where paedophiles are not. We are a nation that prides itself on its black humour yet there is a limit, it seems, and it is green. The carbon dioxide in the atmosphere must have leached all the humour from the Earth. If we could take the mickey out of German bombs, surely we can manage melting ice caps?
The climate change movement is so worthy, so unleavened by wit or irreverence that it is disappearing up its own righteousness. And this creates a huge problem.
Climate change is a bit dull. A bit of a turn-off. Important? Yes. The biggest challenge mankind has faced? Possibly. But exciting? Admit it. How many times have your eyes glazed past the latest slice of gloom and doom, in search of something a bit more fruity? Tiger Woods’ apparent taste in plastic waitresses with weirdly plump lips; or bankers’ bonuses.
I know it’s not really funny that polar bears are drowning and sea levels rising; but death isn’t innately hilarious and neither is paedophilia, yet jokes on both abound. If a celebrity dies or is caught with dodgy images, the web resounds with comedy e-mails. When the latest statistics on melting ice sheets come out, the e-mail ping falls silent. We briefly feel the guilt, shrug and return to our messy, polluting lives.
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Type “climate change jokes” into Google, and the last thing you’ll find is an actual joke. “Climate change gag” is even worse — cue conspiracy theorists talking about gagging the truth, and the eviltude of the greens.
Part of our squeamishness is related to a misunderstanding about global warming. “The world will end,” we say, confusing our selves with the place where we live. The world, as James Lovelock has eloquently pointed out, will be fine. It has been considerably hotter and cooler than now. It’s us who are screwed. We have been here only for 200,000 years. We are the Earth’s post-prandial burp, but persist in thinking we’re the main banquet.
Humour is more comfortable when directed at wrongdoers or majorities; we are both. We’re villain and victim in the climate change drama; underdog and overdog. Our horrific legacy to ourselves is a legitimate target for the bleakest of jokes.
But climate change makes us po-faced and dreary. The Scots have a word for it: dreich. It denotes the type of cheerless, bleak sky that only a Glaswegian can fully recognise. Confronted by the dreich doom ahead, we guiltily ignore Armageddon, leaving the mad-eyed sceptics to fight it out with the dreary, dogmatic activists.
This leaves a vast, ignored middle ground of sane people. They have no leaders, no visible warriors representing them. Man has faced challenges before, yes. But normally leaders emerge to grasp history by the scruff of its chaotic neck and shout, “enough!”.
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Instead, we have scientists; drawn into the political realm, sometimes reluctantly. Data is politicised and the middle-ground public are left confused and bruised.
In the media, we are flummoxed. Climate change is the biggest story around, yet we fear boring our readers. We want to report on the fight, yet increasingly we create agendas and stories because no one else is. In part, this is because it is really only one story retold.
Newspapers are driven by the new. We get our buzz from new ideas, new stories, new twists and we find the dreich stuff dull too. So we seize on every snuffle as evidence of a new flu pandemic, thanking the gods of news for a new spin on the old “end of the world is nigh” story. Plague? Brilliant, bring it on. Nuclear proliferation? Fantastic, as long as there’s no bloody polar bear angle.
The important-but-dull paradox is one that I face as editor of Eureka, the Times science and environment magazine. We get to pick the most exciting bits of science; did we manage that in our December issue, out yesterday (and at timesonline.co.uk/eureka), which concentrated on climate change? We hope so, but you must decide.
But why try, when it is far easier to tap into things that readers are already interested in? Because many of us feel a sense of responsibility about climate change, and our role in shaping and reporting debate on the issue. There I go, coming over all preachy and worthy. It’s to do with the language of climate change. Reader, we must save the world together! Look at my byline picture — do I look more pompous and smug than usual? I feel it.
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We get more pompous, you get more bored, the world keeps getting hotter and the climate change chat is dominated by what should be fringe movements. We need a new vocabulary; a new irreverence. We need leaders, yes, but also comics. Someone to lead the fight, with a jester to relieve the tension and unremitting gloom. Have you heard the one about the drowning polar bear? No, neither have I.