The Gävle Goat Lives

At the fraught start of an apocalyptic new year, we find a slight, weird sliver of hope in the improbable survival of Sweden's Gävle Goat, a massive straw goat that sanguine residents have built each Christmas since 1966 but that malevolent humanity has, most years, implacably destroyed. Typically, they burn him down; he's also been beaten, run over, bird-pecked to collapse and shot with flaming arrows by perps dressed as Gingerbread Men. But this year, he boasts, "Still standing!"

Because we are a mystifying species with often-impenetrable rituals, the Yule Goat is erected each year on the first day of Advent at Slottstorget in the center of Gävle, about a hundred miles north of Stockholm. A 45-foot-high replica of a Northern European Christmas symbol, Gävlebocken seems to have sprung from German paganism fused with Norse tradition. He is based on ancient proto-Slavic beliefs that honor Devac (Dažbog), the god of the harvest and fertile sun, typically depicted as a white goat; he also celebrates Devac's bestie the Norse god Thor, who rode the sky in a chariot drawn by two goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr. By tradition, the last sheaf of grain bundled in the harvest is imbued with magical properties that symbolize the sacred spirit of the harvest. In today's late-stage capitalism, the goat just brings presents.

While the Goat may have originated in Söder, a neighborhood in Stockholm, local historians in Gävle say he was conceived - and drawn on a pastry shop napkin - by their merchants, either ad man Stig Gavlén, trader Harry Ström, or Inga Ivarsson, whose family had already created the world's largest chair and skis so why not a goat. Local firemen grabbed the napkin drawing and ran with it, the highly flammable beginning of "a long, unfortunate relationship between the Gävle Goat and the local fire department." On Dec. 1 in 1966, the first Goat was laboriously put into place; it weighed three tons. On New Year’s Eve, at midnight, the goat went up in flames. The perpetrator was caught and charged with vandalism, but it was the first of many such grim fates for Gävlebocken: In 57 years and incarnations, he's survived intact till New Year's Day just 19 times.

The Goat's long litany of affronts is part Book of Job, part Laurel and Hardy. In 1970, he lasted just six hours before being set on fire by two drunk teenagers. In 1972, he imploded due to unknown sabotage. In I973, a local man stole him and put him up in his backyard; the thief got two years in prison. In 1976, a student rammed him with his sweet Volvo 122, causing the hind legs to collapse. In 1979, someone burned him down before he was put up. A reprieve: In 1985 he first entered the Guinness Book of Records as the world's largest goat. In 1987, he was "heavily impregnated" with fire retardants but still burned down. In 1988, he survived, prompting bookies to start betting on survival odds. In 1990, volunteer guards began patrolling, leading to several peaceful years; the town also installed a live web-cam, further ensuring tranquility. Briefly.

In 1995, a Norwegian crossed the border and tried to burn him down, but failed. In 2001, after growing publicity, a tourist from Cleveland, Ohio was arrested for torching him; he said he thought it was a legal tradition. In 2005, "unknown vandals" dressed as Santa Clauses and Gingerbread Men shot flaming arrows at the Goat; a few days later they were featured on Sweden’s TV3 "Most Wanted" program. In 2008, after many chemical immersions, officials decided to skip drenching his straw in fire retardants because they made the goat look ugly, "like a brown terrier." Intrigued arsonists failed twice; a third succeeded. The next year, goat-burners were so determined they first hacked the webcam, launching a denial of service to knock it offline before they did the fiery deed. They were never caught. More fences and guards were added.

Gävlebocken survived intact in 2010, despite a reported plot by "two mysterious men" to kidnap him using a helicopter after first trying to bribe the security guard. In 2011, he prevailed only five days; in 2012, the fire "started it his left hind leg"; in 2014, the Goat went to China to visit their sister city Zhuhai; in 2016, he was burned to the ground a few hours after a grand 50th birthday party. Except for the hackers, the indignities were typically visited upon the Goat - beaten with clubs, hit by vintage cars, legs singed or collapsed, vicious online responses to the latest conflagration: "Cook him to nothing but ashes" - by less than stellar, often sooty miscreants. After one perp was detained by a guard, the local press reported he was "quickly identified" because he had "a singed face, smelled of gasoline, and was holding a lighter in his hand."

Arson as a Christmas Tradition: The Gävle Goat

Gävlebocken has also been beset by envious wannabees. For years he's been challenged by a Yule Goat built by the Natural Science Club of the School of Vasa; when their goat Little Brother failed to make it into Guinness, they began making it bigger and bigger, and in 1985 they made the world record. Of course Stig Gavlén, the reported creator of the original, was graceful in defeat. Just kidding: He argued the Science Club's goat shouldn't have won because he wasn't as attractive as Gävlebocken, and his neck was too long. In 2016, Little Brother got to take Gävlebocken's place after he was burned down, but then Little Brother got hit by a car. Several years, both goats have been torched. By now, given its grievous history, Yule Goats of any variety have come to be viewed as "perhaps the world's most endangered animal."

In 2022, Gävlebocken encountered a new nemesis. Due to Sweden's unusually wet summer, the straw had more grain stuck to it, and flocks of jackdaw birds descended to peck him into ragged squalor. After the assault, the city's Goat Committee - yes, there is one - held an emergency meeting, but decided to take no further action. Citing the good will of Christmas, they said they didn't want to hurt or frighten away birds just following their hungry instincts, so the Goat would "continue to spread that Christmas spirit." On his X account - yes, he has one - Gävlebocken gloated, "I did not go down without a fight." In fact, many of hisposts have that snarky-bro ring: "I'm the one and only," "Halfway through and this goat is still looking good," "I know, I'm hard to resist," "I made it!", "Looks aren't everything but I have them just in case."

Still, the bluster is understandable: Sweden's "arson goat" reigns. The live goat-cam has over 14,000 subscribers; it even has a live chat. There are still people tracking and betting on his market value and survival odds; this year's started at a 6% chance to make it to New Year's. A website offers merch, from a Kidnapped Christmas sweater complete with helicopter to a burning goat tree ornament: "To die for you is my greatest honor." Online - "Get notified if the Gävle Goat is burning!" - people update, monitor, speculate: "It's goat-burning season! What's it gonna be? Fire? Automobile? Hungry birds?" "Security guard caught smoking," "Only 27 hours left - will the Gävle Goat survive?" Reddit (category: "Goats in the News") ranges from optimists - "Still holding on this year" - to sadists: "The destruction of this goat is my favorite holiday tradition."

What's the draw of an event that comes down to, If you build it, they will come to burn it down? To some, it symbolizes "the eternal battle between goat-erectors and goat-burners," between the forces of commercialization and "the primeval urge to set something huge on fire because the sun has disappeared and who knows when it’s coming back." Perps are "possessed by the spirit of our pagan ancestors" who want to "bring warmth and light back into the universe, one goat at a time." After a year "like the world’s worst mashup of the real housewives of New Jersey and the show Jackass," a war over a large straw goat has a certain wholesome, guileless allure. It could, and likely soon will be, much worse. This year, thanks to a double fence, 24-hour guards and better straw, the Gävle Goat still stands. If he can survive vandals in benign-looking costumes shooting flaming arrows at him, maybe we can too.