“Killer whales” have had it — or so it seems. Iberian orcas are chasing sailboats and ramming their rudders until they break. Until now, orcas, who are part of the dolphin family, have never been reported as aggressive towards humans. But these attacks started in 2020 and are increasing each year.
There were 52 interactions between orcas and sailboats in 2020, and by 2022, the number reached 207. This spring, Live Science reported that orcas are sinking boats in Europe and teaching other orcas to do the same. When the story was published, the internet went wild.
Twitter and Instagram took off, framing Iberian orcas as “comrades” in the anti-capitalist struggle and climate fighters protecting their ocean. Memes of orcas sidling up beside police wagons and Jeff Bezos’ superyacht appeared. The orcas seem to be targeting luxury sailboats in European vacation spots, which makes it easy to link their behavior to problems exacerbated by increasing wealth disparity and the exploitation of capitalism run rampant.
As soon as I heard about the orcas, I told my husband. Over lunch in New Haven, I told a dear friend who is my great ally in environmental justice efforts. As I continued reading about orcas sinking sailboats, I kept them both updated.
When it comes to “killer whales” attacking sailboats, what is fact and what is fiction? I wanted to find out.
“Scientists say orcas are not resentful or aggressive,” I said. “They think these sailboat attacks are a defensive response to traumatic experience or a new cultural fad.”
I was fascinated by the idea that orcas, as social creatures, share and pick up on trends and participate in them together. For an entire season in the ‘80s, a group of orcas wore dead salmon hats, which by the next year, was no longer fashionable. Scientists speculate that sailboat attacks could be a similar trend orcas are exploring for fun, noting that young orcas have been known to play in waves created by boats cutting through water. Scientists insist that orcas are not bashing boats aggressively to destroy them, because weighing three tons, they are strong enough to do so if they wish. These orcas are simply pushing on rudders until a sailboat stops. At that point, they move on.
However cute the notion of orca fads may be, the contrasting theory offered by scientists makes more sense. They believe this behavior developed among orcas trying to protect themselves from injury.
Iberian orcas are critically endangered, with 35 documented and fewer than 50 thought to remain. They rely on Atlantic Bluefin Tuna as their primary prey, which is also endangered. The struggle among orcas to find the tuna they need has led to frequent encounters with fishing boats. Intercepting tuna attracted by fishing lines has become an essential orca feeding strategy, but as they hunt, they are too often tangled in lines and injured.
Scientists believe that White Gladis, a great matriarch among Iberian orcas, had a traumatic encounter with fishing lines. She spearheaded the sailboat bombardment in 2020, continuing even after her calf was born the next year, which goes against maternal instinct and shows how seriously she views sailboats as a threat. Black Gladis, a member of White Gladis’ pod, has been seen with terrible wounds likely caused by humans, and their pod mate Grey Gladis witnessed another orca enmeshed in fishing lines shortly before these attacks began.
As I told my friend about White Gladis, the matriarch leading the charge against sailboats, working together with her pod, we agreed that no matter her motivation, no matter what facts swirl in those deep mysterious Iberian waters, we are on her side.
“White Gladis deserves a sermon and a song,” my friend said.
It turned out we are not alone in our dedication. Soon I noticed everyone was talking about Iberian orcas. I overheard a stranger excitedly telling their story on the sidewalk one night in my neighborhood, and again at a restaurant that same week.
The orcas had captured our attention — and our hearts. Their story leapt off the screen and infiltrated the real world. People were invigorated by Iberian orcas and cheering them on. Frustrated by willful destruction of natural resources, helpless in the face of ongoing ecological devastation, people found something they needed in White Gladis and her pod.
These “killer whales” became an unexpected ally, rising from the very ocean humanity seems determined to destroy. They are an emblem of our desire to see harmony restored. An enchanting mascot in the fight for good.
As the Iberian orcas’ story was passed from one human to another, spun round and round via internet headlines and word of mouth, there was a distinct blurring of fact and fiction. Reality met fantasy as bits of the story were interwoven to offer disenchanted humans a glimpse toward greater meaning.
The meaning people found in these “killer whales’” allegedly killer behavior was not necessarily based in fact. We have science for that. But in my conversations, and overheard on sidewalks among strangers, surely shared in restaurants around the world, people told a different story. It inched away from science and morphed into legend.
The orcas’ feats are a tale of mystery and madness, one in which something nonsensical is the only thing that starts to make a little sense.
When Iberian orcas stop sailboats, science is not the only thing that matters. It is compelling to understand their behavior, but as my friend and I marveled, there is something important about this story that cannot be captured by facts and figures. It holds a truth that might be better heard by our imagination and our hearts.
As we talked about the trauma of orcas getting tangled in fishing lines, we agreed: The pain and horror are real — vital to understand and stop. But there is a deeper layer of magic to this story, and it brings a glimmer of hope.
Humans have made sense of our experience through magical myth and storytelling since ancient times. We look to the stars, the gods, our favorite symbols, and epic religious tales to locate ourselves within the complex tapestry of the universe. There is a divide between fact and fiction, considerable tenets of mystery and the unknown in these tales, but when it comes to making sense of the world, and tethering ourselves to the cosmos in a way that anchors and guides our souls, the divide becomes irrelevant.
Even when the divide between fact and fiction seems great, there is always a place where reality and legend intersect. In this case, the reality of traumatized, critically endangered Iberian orcas meets the legend of “killer whales” fighting back against oceanic destruction and planetary ruin. Facts help us understand how the world works, but legend inspires us and shows us how to take the next best step. Stories help us shake free of facts used to bind our reality into one persistent shape.
In this case, White Gladis, her pod, and the orcas helping them disable sailboats are showing us how to create a new pattern and do so in community. They are responding — together — to the suffering of another. These orcas help us envision a world in which living beings unite against the forces that seek to destroy us.
The point of this modern legend is not knowing the orcas can win. The point is witnessing their resolve in fighting back. There is something we can learn from the Gladis pod’s willingness to swim together towards the enemy and say enough. They show that collaboration is possible but requires us to put the pod above ourselves and sing in unison not one among us can be hurt.
Legend always holds a deeper message.
The legend of White Gladis and the sailboats helps us listen to the ocean, listen to creatures disregarded, listen to the wisdom of Great Delphinidae Matriarchs who are showing us the way. The solidarity we discovered with these Iberian orcas, the inspiration they offer in another summer of record-breaking heat, reflects our undeniable interdependence with nature of all kinds.
Everything we do impacts this great and intricate living web; we move within that web, never beyond it. Nature responds to our actions in reciprocal relationship, as the Gladis pod is illustrating in Iberian waters. The way we treat orcas affects the way orcas treat us.
Fact may be necessary to understand the world, but fantasy is what makes our lives rich. White Gladis, we hear your song, and your story deserves respect. We stand beside you to listen — sing — swim — disable the enemy — in the spirit of safety and wellbeing for all living things.
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