How do you introduce yourself to Stephen Fry?

Andrew Wood, Senior Engagement and Impact Officer, reflects on the Commission’s advocacy work to connect regional and local climate action – with a personal slant 

On 8 July, Yorkshire & Humber Climate Commission’s Chair, Asif Husain-Naviatti and I travelled to the House of Lords to attend the annual reception for Peers for the Planet, who work to shape legislation for the benefit of climate and nature. The Commission’s national advocacy work has stepped up a gear over the past year.  In January, we sought to harness the new government’s ‘mission-led’ approach to policy (see this story and our briefing on the topic). Since then, we have been exploring with Peers for the Planet (P4P) and others the difference that the new Devolution and Community Empowerment Bill might make if it were to give greater powers to local and mayoral authorities for climate adaptation, as also recommended by the Climate Change Committee and the Local Government Association. (The Bill was published two days later; while it denotes climate change as an ‘area of competence’ for mayors, it does not place any specific regulatory responsibility on them to act.)  

The reception was a great opportunity to meet people from around the country, and across sectors, who all value the dedication and expertise of Peers and of their staff team. Before proceedings began, Asif and I found ourselves standing only a few feet away from the keynote speaker, Sir Stephen Fry, he of Blackadder, QI, Wilde, and other TV and film credits too numerous to mention. His most enduring impact on my family is from his role in Jeeves and Wooster in the 1990s TV adaptation. Hardly a day goes by at home when a question or comment is not answered with “Indeed sir” or “Precisely, sir”. I’m not someone who gets star-struck, but this unexpected opportunity to meet the man threw me into a quandary. 

The Jeeves Conundrum

I was entirely ready to take a stride forward, shake his hand and introduce myself, but I knew that my opening gambit needed to be at least passably erudite. Small talk wasn’t going to cut it. I remembered a scene from Bob Mortimer’s memoir, in which he met Sinéad O’Connor and was so stumped for something to say that he finished up asking her if there was a decent convenience shop in her neighbourhood. That was not a mistake I was about to make. Nor could I replicate the bad habit one of my friends is prone to of telling famous people who they are: “You’re Stephen Fry!” “Indeed, sir.”  

At that moment the proceedings began. An introduction from Lord Ravensdale was followed by Baroness Helene Hayman, the outgoing Chair of P4P, reflecting on the group’s impact so far, having influenced 60 pieces of legislation over the past five years. Sir Stephen then gave a rousing, unsettling and beautifully articulate speech, apparently without notes. Most poetically, he described the flooded and polluted rivers that are the most tangible and immediate symptoms of the pressure we are collectively inflicting on the planet and our ability to continue thriving on it. These, he said, are mirrored by the flooded and polluted torrent of information that is making the public discourse on climate action increasingly challenging. Precisely, sir, I thought: how easy it would be for all our efforts to be swept away in this foul and furious river.  

The Dr Seuss approach

It was during this speech that I decided on my opening gambit for speaking to Sir Stephen afterwards. I would tell him how I have recently been using Dr Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat to introduce Yorkshire & Humber Climate Commission’s work on fair and inclusive climate action. The acrobatic rhyming couplets of Dr Seuss are another cultural touchpoint in my family that has survived the decade since my daughter learned to read. (“I will pick up the book and you will see something new. Two things, and I call them Thing One and Thing Two.”) 

I should add that the Commission is not in the habit of quoting Dr Seuss for our advocacy work. However, in policy and politics it’s often necessary to consider two apparently contradictory things being equally true. In this case, Thing One is Fry’s polluted river of information: climate action is unfair, unaffordable and dangerously unrealistic, and should be abandoned post-haste. Thing Two is that between 70 and 90% of people, depending on which survey you select, are concerned about climate change and want to see government show much more decisive leadership to make climate action happen.  

But Thing One and Thing Two are identical twins, sharing the same DNA. In this analogy, they both arise from people’s lack of trust in decision makers and institutions, and from their desire to be genuinely listened to and understood. Addressing this is core to the Commission’s work, because if climate action is not perceived to be fair by the voting public, then it won’t succeed. We have just published a policy briefing setting out this challenge, with four recommendations for how fair and inclusive climate action can be progressed. Crucially, we are providing a range of local examples of activities showing fair and inclusive action is not only feasible but already happening. Our aim is to showcase the abundance of initiatives already under way and how much meaning they are bringing to people’s lives and communities. It may be possible for a sceptical politician or commentator to dismiss conceptual ideas of fair and inclusive action, but it is far harder to ignore activities that are already happening within our communities.  

I was confident that Stephen Fry would grasp the metaphor warmly, so I was now equipped with a conversational hook to reel him in to our excellent work. The incoming Chair, Baroness Kathy Willis, gave an excellent closing speech outlining some of her ambitions for her role, and then it was networking time. I grabbed a cup of tea, picked up my documents, and turned to see that Sir Stephen had gone. But I was reassured by how everyone in the room, from so many organisations across the country, and in the House of Lords, are determined to see climate action happen – as Baroness Hayman observed at the start. To borrow another Dr Seuss line (from The Lorax), “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” 

Andrew Wood 

Image: Author’s own