Climate change doesn't seem very funny. But when I told my friends I was writing an article about the comedy of climate change, they laughed.
I can't claim full credit. I was inspired by Climate Science Breakthrough, who've published this brilliant piece of comedic climate action:
(It's a bit sweary, so put your headphones on if you're in the office or around kids!)
Taking the form of a back-and-forth between climate science professor Mark Maslin and comedian Jo Brand, Climate Science Translated perfectly illustrates the importance of translating technical concepts into a form everyone can understand and act on.
And it's really, painfully funny... but it raises some questions: why use humour for something so serious? When should we do so? And how?
In this piece, I'll give you some answers.
But first, let's zoom out a bit and define the problem.
Climate change is hard to solve for many reasons.
Firstly, it's scary, and when something is scary, the natural reaction is to push it away.
Climate change is also abstract and difficult to understand. It's slow-moving and out of synch with the news cycle, so it gets under-reported. It therefore never seems quite urgent enough to require sustained action. So we focus our attention elsewhere.
Climate change requires behaviour change. And behaviour change- among individuals, groups, organisations, nations or governments, is difficult. Whether it's cutting energy consumption (yawn/brrr!), or turning down funds from fossil fuel lobbyists (I really want that second term in office), there's always going to be stiff resistance.
Calls for climate action often sound like appeals to swap pleasure for pain- or at least, less fun (tree-hugging masochism, anyone?). They can also come across as preachy, fear-mongering, virtue-signaling or just plain angry.
And the vitally needed scientific solutions can be difficult for people to understand, visualise, and buy into.
All of these things put people's defences up.
Comedy can lower these defences, making a message (and messenger) more friendly, relatable and memorable. Like a spoonful of sugar.
It puts us in shoes we'd never normally wear, exploring frames of thought we never use, and exposing the paradoxical, the contradictory, and the outright ridiculous. It also requires excellent visualisation and perfect clarity: otherwise it just isn't funny. Science may be rigorous, but it isn't generally accessible or relatable in the same way. So why not marry comedy with science?
Through comedy, we can directly experience the complexity and hypocrisy of human nature, and the weird mix of feelings that go with them, wrapped in the nice warm buzz of laughter that makes it all so much easier to digest.
Hypocrisy is particularly relevant to climate change because- unless we're living off-grid in a sustainable community- we're part of the problem, to some extent, regardless of how much we claim to be on board with environmental causes.
Feeling like a hypocrite creates cognitive dissonance: a kind of internal conflict in our brains, where beliefs about ourselves, our values and our behaviour clash with contrary evidence.
That, in turn, presents us with an uncomfortable choice: to either change our behaviour and resolve the conflict, or rationalise it away with explanations and excuses.
On the fossil fuel lobby, Brand says,
"We're paying a bunch of rich dudes 1 trillion dollars to f••k up our future... I'd do it for that money- when can I start?"
Admissions of fallibility- even when joking- can be appealing because they make the speaker seem more authentic and honest.
Brand's "confession" is a clever move- she momentarily swaps places with the bad guys, giving us a novel peep into their mindset. Which forces us to ask: do we all have a price?
It's not a nice thought (there's that cognitive dissonance again), but comedy gives us the mental flexibility to contemplate it. This darkly comic piece from Make My Money Matter poses a tough question: what's your pension doing to the climate?
The goal here, of course, is to spark action. If we can relate, at least a tiny bit, to the bad guys, perhaps we can start to address our shortcomings, as well as pushing for the big changes that need to happen at a political level.
Comedy can help achieve the scale for big change at low cost: laughter is viral, and can be non-partisan. It's important not to directly accuse your audience or shame anyone, but rather, shine a light on core issues so they feel empowered to act.
I know this from experience- I've run a (largely retired) satirical twitter account and YouTube channel for several years, called Brexit Comedy. I was pleasantly surprised that the project bridged the political divide; Brexit Comedy has followers of all stripes, taking the p** out of everyone. This wasn't just for laughs (and after all, some of the jokes are terrible)- it proved that divided groups can unite through humour, and are more alike than different. That brings a lot of hope.
Comedy can also be a smart move when there's "fatigue" around an important issue.
By now most (sensible) people understand that climate change is a huge threat, but the scale of the challenges involved can be so overwhelming that it leads to desensitisation. And that leads to apathy ("Well, what can I do? May as well pop the kettle on, watch TV, and slip into a warm bath of ignorance").
It's obvious but important to note that comedy doesn't always work. Some issues are too raw or explosive, and if your audience isn't expecting comedy from you, you might want to break them in slowly.
We've all seen attempts at comedy backfire, so test your material multiple times before you go live with it. This is what the pros do.
Jokes about serious topics come with risks, and take skill to pull off, so weigh things up and decide if it's worth it, and get help from a professional. I initially partnered with a pro comedian on Brexit Comedy, which helped me build confidence and find my voice. By teaming up with Jo Brand on Climate Science Translated, Prof. Maslin can speak his own language, leaving the gags to Brand.
Interestingly, Maslin's deadpan delivery adds to the comedic tension, as Maslin can play the "straight man" in a double act with Brand. So the fact he's not trying to be funny actually makes the whole thing funnier, and more impactful.
But in this case, it's the perfect pairing.
And in the face of impending disaster, it has to be worth a shot.
🌳 If you're working on a climate campaign or other project for social good, I have limited capacity for pro bono engagements and consultations. Drop me a message! 🌳
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