We’ve had a few theme weeks here on The Quantum Biologist: Shark Week, Ant Week, and Vice Week. Today we begin a new theme week: Old Dead White Naturalist Guy Week! This week is an homage to the courageous, pith-helmeted, mustachioed white men of the 19th century who ventured to the far corners of the globe in the name of science, enlightenment, empire, or just adventure, along with the fascinating animals they “discovered.” (Sir Pilkington-Smythe should be pleased.) I’ll avoid the obvious names, like Darwin and Wallace and Audubon, in order to give credit to those whose names are less-remembered by the modern public. Whether for brilliance, bravado, or simply eccentricity, these are men I believe deserve greater fame.
Or, in this case, infamy.
Sir Henry Morton Stanley was not a naturalist. He was an explorer, and probably the model for exactly what you imagine when you think of the phrase “pith-helmeted, mustachioed white men.” Welsh-born and American-raised, Stanley was a hard-pressed foreign correspondent for a New York newspaper when he was tapped to head the expedition to find rock star Scottish missionary Dr. David Livingstone, last seen gadding about the Dark Continent. It was Stanley who coined the phrase “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”, though there is no evidence that he ever uttered the phrase when he finally found Dr. Livingstone in Tanzania. (Livingstone does not mention it, and for reasons mysterious to the world, Stanley tore out the pages of his diary detailing the encounter.)
Real men keep diaries.
That phrase is the most the average modern person knows about Sir Henry Morton Stanley. You can vaguely conjure an image of him in his khakis, bushwhacking his way through cannibal territory, hacking snakes with a machete and waxing his mustache with his free hand. What people forget is the utter, unmitigated brutality of this man, who was really nothing more than a flag-planting pawn for European powers carving up the African continent for their own appetites. Stanley’s expedition to find Livingstone was half media event, half mission of conquest; his 7,000 mile route from Zanzibar to Tanzania was claimed by England, while Stanley’s New York Herald sold record papers. After another newspaper-financed expedition down the River Congo, during which he lost 242 of the 356 members of his entourage — a full 2/3rds, he was commissioned by King Leopold II to map out the Congo and claim it for Belgium. Leopold II’s conquest of the Free State of Congo is one of the most brutal in modern times, amounting to nothing less than enslavement and genocide, with over half the Congolese dying under Belgium’s rubber bootheel. Stanley’s baggage train traveled in long routes through Africa to claim the greatest amount of land, spreading disease and violence where ever they went. Stanley himself was said by one peer to “shoot negroes as if they were monkeys.”
So why is Stanley the subject of my post? Following yesterday’s essay on cryptozoology, I wanted to write on a mammal that Stanley didn’t find himself, but “discovered” through local rumor. It is one of the most elusive mammals in the world for its size — so elusive that it was not scientifically described until the 20th century and was not photographed alive in the wild until 2008. It’s the okapi.