Robert De Niro, Johnny Depp, Thierry Fremaux, and where evil really lies.
At the press conference following the Cannes premiere of Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon, someone asked Robert De Niro about his character, a kingpin of a sort with a tricky psyche. “It’s the banality of evil,” he said, describing the character’s moral ambiguity. “It’s the thing we have to watch out for. We see it today, of course. We all know who I’m going to talk about, but I’m not going to say his name.” (Everyone knew who he meant.)
The banality of evil was hot at Cannes this year. De Niro’s statement came on the heels of the premiere of Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest, which set Cannes critics abuzz about the same phrase. That movie — which I proposed might best be understood as an adaptation of Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem, even more than the Martin Amis novel it’s loosely based on — is not much like Killers of the Flower Moon, at first blush. Glazer’s is short, taut horror that evokes the Holocaust by keeping it offscreen; Scorsese’s is epic, bloody, and relentless in its depiction of a series of murders from a century ago.
Thematically, however, they often rhyme. Both are about mankind’s ability to exterminate one another while deluding themselves into thinking they’re doing the right thing. Both are about atrocities so heinous they’re hard to wrap your mind around. And both feel eerily contemporary, in an age where prejudice, racism, and fascism are on the rise around the globe.
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Mohammed Badra/Getty Images
Yet, with deep respect to De Niro (who gives one of his finest performances in Killers), only one of these movies is actually about the banality of evil, and it’s not the one he’s in. A key part of Arendt’s argument in Eichmann in Jerusalem is that her subject, Adolf Eichmann, the chief architect of the Third Reich’s euphemistically named “Final Solution,” was profoundly vapid, lacking a discernible motivation or conscious vendetta against the Jewish people he exterminated. (This is the chilling sense you get about The Zone of Interest’s characters, too.) Arendt observed Eichmann in court, where his defense was that he simply followed orders. What struck her was his lack of ego or intelligence or personal motivation. This evil, she wrote, was banal because it was hollow, perpetuated largely by people who had given up thinking, letting themselves exist within a corrupt and deadly system.
That is not the case with William Hale, De Niro’s character in Killers of the Flower Moon. Hale is complicated, to be sure — as De Niro noted, he seems to genuinely love the Osage people while actively plotting to kill them off and take their wealth for himself. But his motivation is obvious, his ego boundless, his arrogance and manipulation and conviction of his own supremacy on a level that rivals any mob boss from a Scorsese film. He is, indeed, a bit reminiscent of the former president De Niro refused to name; one line delivery (in which Hale boasts about his access to the best lawyers) even seems modeled on Trump. But what he (and Trump) is not is banal.
That doesn’t make Hale less evil than, say, Eichmann. But it does make him exceptional, the kind of person who people are still talking about a hundred years after the fact. If The Zone of Interest’s characters are banally evil, then Killers of the Flower Moon’s antagonists are sharply evil, even the ones who aren’t masterminds. (Leonardo DiCaprio’s character Ernest Burkhart shares some key qualities with Eichmann — he’s not very bright, he’s easily suggestible, and he doesn’t like thinking — but he is absolutely motivated, loudly and passionately, by money.)
Cannes is an interesting place to consider evil, in both its banal and exceptional forms. As the festival concludes its 76th edition, it remains the most prestigious in the world, its iconic red carpet attracting dense crowds of onlookers who stake out a spot hours before premieres (18, for Killers) just for the possibility of seeing a star in the flesh. Filmmakers around the globe consider a Cannes berth the apex of a career. The festival is well aware of its cachet, that it’s the place where artists gain a kind of immortality. Walk around the city of Cannes during the festival, and there are posters everywhere of stars present and past on the red carpet, just to remind you that this is where the legends have walked.
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Samir Hussein/WireImage
That means the festival wields a nearly unparalleled kingmaking power, an authority that the festival’s director Thierry Frémaux seems to both love and deny. Frémaux always manages to be controversial, but for 2023 he took it to new heights, programming the controversial French director Maïwenn’s period drama Jeanne du Barry, about the favorite mistress of King Louis XV, for the festival’s opening night gala. Opening night movies at Cannes are often not very good; Jeanne du Barry is, indeed, very bad, bafflingly so. But the film’s pre-fest buzz was almost entirely a function of its director, who’s known for her vocal anti-MeToo stances and recent assault of a journalist, and its star, Johnny Depp, in his first major role since his circus of a court battle with ex-wife Amber Heard.
Prior to the film’s premiere, Frémaux claimed in an interview that he didn’t really have any idea why this was controversial. “I don’t know about the image of Johnny Depp in the US,” he said, claiming he only has “one rule: it’s the freedom of thinking, and the freedom of speech and acting within a legal framework.” He was, he claimed, “one person who didn’t find the least interest in this very publicized trial.” If reporters wanted to know why Depp was in the movie, Frémaux said, “you should ask Maïwenn.”
It was a strange answer to a relatively straightforward question, for reasons that have not all that much to do with either Depp or Maïwenn. The opening night gala at Cannes is not just some random screening down at the local multiplex; it’s a position of honor, a signal of what an institution values. That’s what makes Frémaux’s response so strange: it’s one thing to choose to give platforms to two deeply controversial figures, but another altogether to refuse to defend them by explaining that choice. Given the festival’s rather ostentatious choice to not program new films by Woody Allen or Roman Polanski, two of its former favorites, it’s especially strange. To shrug at these facts not only discounts the power Cannes holds, but is a sideways insult to the filmmakers — and swings dangerously close to claiming you’re just following orders.
But Cannes is not one man. Sprinkled further throughout the festival were reflections on moral ambiguity and outright badness, in Scorsese’s and Glazer’s movies as well as many others. Todd Haynes’s May December features a central relationship based loosely on the infamous case of Mary Kay Letourneau, who spent seven and a half years in prison after being convicted of child rape following a sexual relationship with a 12-year-old in her sixth-grade class. She then married him, ultimately having six children with him. May December imagines a fictionalized version of the pair (played by Julianne Moore and Charles Melton) many years into their marriage, when they’re visited by an actress (Natalie Portman) doing research for a role. The film is funny and campy and off-kilter, but never loses its purposefully queasy undertone; something bad happened here, people were and are being exploited, and the mental gymnastics on display are both extraordinary and, in a sense, very familiar. Cliches about love and romance can’t quite push it all away, and the film wants us to dwell in the discomfort.
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Netflix
It was the same in Wang Bing’s extraordinary documentary Youth (Spring), which centers on the lives of young people, mostly in their late teens or early twenties, who work in China’s textile factories making cheap clothes. The film’s three-and-a-half hour runtime is blanketed with pop music in the background, lyrics laden with swoony romantic fantasies; meanwhile, in the foreground, the workers live very differently, casually speaking of sexual assault and exploitation by bosses while also simply living the best lives possible under the circumstances.
Justine Triet’s incredible Anatomy of a Fall hinges on how the legal system employs euphemisms about “opinion” and “fact,” memory and gender and love, to manipulate the meaning of justice. In How to Have Sex, a debut from Molly Manning Walker, a young English woman on vacation with her friends discovers how cruelly some male acquaintances can wield language to cover up evil behavior. About Dry Grasses, from the great Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan, features at its core a schoolteacher who is plenty comfortable with the misogyny around him, despite feeling like he’s above the people in his village. The Sweet East, from Sean Price Williams, is a careening tour through the stupidest underbelly of American society: white supremacists, misogynistic violence, a world that gleefully sexualizes young women. Or there’s Monster, from master filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda, a story that keeps flipping and changing and doesn’t reveal till near the end how much it’s about the power of lazy language to warp a child’s self-image. Even The Idol, Sam Levinson’s new HBO show (two episodes of which premiered at Cannes), picks up the theme in its own way, embodying the same cruel hatred of young women in the pop industry that it seemingly intends to skewer.
The list could go on; what’s striking is how often the movies at this year’s Cannes actually were about the simple banality of evil, perpetuated or indulged in by ordinary people who have left thought behind and followed, instead, the system in which they find themselves. You can’t make a proclamation about the future from a selection at a film festival, but the lack of exceptional and identifiable villains, at least in my viewing, was striking, Killers of the Flower Moon notwithstanding. If there’s a message emanating from Cannes this year — muddled as it might be — it’s that the world is set up to make evil as easy as possible to partake in. Whether we choose to start thinking about it clearly is the question that lingers, long after the lights come down and the red carpet is rolled back up.
As America gets ready to grill on Memorial Day, a reminder of meat’s role in climate change.
In 2006, the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) released a bombshell report, called “Livestock’s Long Shadow,” that focused public consciousness onto animal agriculture’s role in climate change. It turned out it wasn’t just cars, planes, and coal plants that belched planet-warming greenhouse gases into the atmosphere — it was also something as seemingly natural as the food we eat. The FAO estimated then that the production of meat, dairy, and eggs made up 18 percent of greenhouse emissions globally, a figure so high that, for many people in countries with high levels of meat consumption, dietary change came to be seen as perhaps the single most important step individuals could take to reduce their climate impact.
Since then, the FAO estimates have gone through a few more iterations. Last October, it released its most recent estimate of animal agriculture’s carbon footprint, using data from 2015 (each estimate uses data from several years prior). It put livestock’s share of total annual greenhouse gas emissions at about 11 percent — down from its previous estimate of 14.5 percent released in 2013, which itself was down from the 2006 estimate of 18 percent. In raw numbers, too, the new estimate is lower, with animal agriculture accounting for 6.19 billion tons of carbon dioxide-equivalent emissions compared to 7.1 billion tons the FAO reported in 2013.
This is a particularly surprising finding, given the rapidly growing number of animals raised for food globally. About 83 billion land animals were slaughtered for food in 2021 (chickens are the vast majority), up from about 68 billion a decade ago and 55 billion in 2006, according to FAO data. In the US, this Memorial Day weekend will kick off a summer grilling season when Americans alone are projected to consume some 7 billion hot dogs, or roughly 818 per second.
Compared to many peer-reviewed studies, which put livestock emissions at between 14.5 percent and 19.6 percent of the world’s total, the FAO’s new estimate (which is not peer-reviewed) is the lowest to date, according to an analysis by the Breakthrough Institute.
That raises an obvious question: why is it lower? There’s considerable uncertainty on the answer among scientists. Peer-reviewed research continues to warn that emissions from agriculture, most of which are driven by animal agriculture, could push global temperature rise past the Paris Agreement limit of 1.5°C.
“It is hard to say why the new FAO number is lower based on their documentation,” said Joseph Poore, a specialist in food sustainability analytics at Oxford University and co-author of an influential 2018 study on livestock emissions. Other scientists interviewed for this story agreed.
So far, the new estimate has only been published as a web app, with a more thorough report analyzing and contextualizing the findings due to be published in the fall, the FAO told Vox. Poore hopes the FAO report will provide a clearer accounting of the methodological changes that led to the 11 percent figure.
Despite the lack of transparency, Poore and others suggested several factors that may have lowered the new estimate, including changes in the Global Warming Potential metric, or GWP 100. That’s a key figure in climate science which is used to convert the warming effects of different greenhouse gases to “carbon dioxide equivalents,” so they can be easily be compared to one another. Methane is now considered 27 times as potent as carbon dioxide, down from a previous Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change estimate of 34 times, while nitrous oxide, another greenhouse gas closely associated with animal agriculture, is considered 273 times as potent, down from a previous 298 times.
A deeper concern about the FAO’s estimate voiced by some scientists is what it doesn’t include. It counts only emissions that the livestock industry is directly responsible for — like methane emitted by cows — but it doesn’t factor in the significant climate benefits we’d get if we freed up some of the land now dedicated to livestock farming and allowed forests to return, unlocking their potential as “carbon sinks” that absorb and sequester greenhouse gases from the air.
Scientists call this the opportunity cost of animal agriculture’s land use. Because animal farming takes up so much land — nearly 40 percent of the planet’s habitable land area — that opportunity cost is massive, which means looking at figures like the FAO’s alone inevitably provides a limited picture of livestock’s full climate impact.
Models aren’t actually measurements
The FAO’s latest numbers were produced by the third version of its Global Livestock Environmental Assessment Model, or GLEAM, a tool it’s been refining since 2009. The decreased estimate doesn’t actually mean that the world is successfully mitigating emissions from animal agriculture — it’s just changing the way it measures them. “The different figures should not be interpreted as a time series,” the dashboard reads. The FAO says it’s “impossible to draw conclusions like ‘emissions went up’ or ‘livestock emissions are becoming less important compared to total anthropogenic emissions.’”
Since the revised numbers are still in the ballpark of other livestock emissions estimates, with room for error in either direction, they don’t fundamentally alter the scientific understanding of how much animal agriculture matters to climate change, said Theun Vellinga, a livestock researcher at Wageningen University in the Netherlands and a member of the team who built the first GLEAM dashboard. “The situation is [still] relatively serious, given the animal population continues to rise,” he said, adding that the 6.19 billion-ton estimate was “still quite a worrying figure” and one that needed to be reduced.
To untrained eyes, however, the dashboard’s lower figures are easy to misread. Unlike most scientific studies, the GLEAM dashboard provides no margin of error for its estimate, which gives it a false sense of precision, said NYU environmental scientist Matthew Hayek. “Putting a decimal point on this is absurd” because it implies an inappropriate level of certainty, Hayek said, referring to the estimates of 11.19 percent and 6.19 billion tons of CO2 emissions from livestock.
“We know there is a 30 percent to 50 percent error” in livestock emissions estimates, Hayek said. “All we can really say is that animal agriculture accounts for 10 percent to 20 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions.”
That’s because the FAO hasn’t actually measured emissions from every livestock farm in the world, which, to be fair, would be an impossible task. It modeled them, and models are imprecise by definition.
For example, in a 2021 study aiming to check the accuracy of estimates of cattle emissions, Hayek and a colleague found significant discrepancies between real-world measurements of the air downwind of intensive animal feedlots across America, compared to modeled versions. The measured methane emissions were between 39 percent to 90 percent higher than models like the FAO’s predict, they found. Hayek said this finding suggests models may be underestimating emissions from intensive cattle farms.
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Havva Zorlu/We Animals Media
Accurately measuring livestock emissions is hard. “Biological systems (animals, plants, wetlands) are harder to assess [greenhouse gases] from because you need to model entire biological organisms and systems,” Hayek said in an email. “Modeling fuel use from buildings, transport, or energy is mostly just a matter of thermodynamics, making those relatively less complex.” There are also legal limitations: the US Environmental Protection Agency, for example, has been blocked from using its funds to measure livestock emissions, and a bill introduced in the Senate last fall aims for an outright ban on monitoring methane emissions.
Another well-known uncertainty in livestock climate models is the role of nitrous oxide, among the most potent greenhouse gases, said Timothy Searchinger, a researcher at Princeton’s Center for Policy Research on Energy and the Environment. The gas, which comes from fertilizers and other agricultural activities, is difficult to measure and model because the amount emitted depends on a range of factors including soil temperature, moisture, and microbe levels.
All this combined with media’s tendency to simplify data for wider communication, and people’s inclination to see what they want to see about polarizing issues like meat consumption, risks both “the willful and unintentional misinterpretation” of the new estimates, “which is worrying because the world still faces an urgent need to reduce methane emissions from livestock,” said Carlos Gonzalez Fischer, an agri-food systems sustainability researcher at Cornell University. While scientists understand that there’s uncertainty inherent in emission estimates, he said, for the general public and policymakers, clearer communication about what the estimates do and don’t mean is essential.
That could be accomplished by using a range for the percentage and tonnage estimates instead of single figures. Michael MacLeod, a climate change mitigation researcher at Scotland’s Rural College and another former member of the GLEAM modeling team, suggests displaying the estimate as a confidence interval: “six billion tons plus or minus one billion tons, with a 95 percent confidence of that range,” for example.
The FAO responded to initial queries about how the model works but didn’t respond to a detailed list of questions about and criticisms of its model.
The massive opportunity cost of livestock’s land use
Some researchers criticize the FAO’s model for excluding one of the most important ways animal agriculture exacerbates climate change: the immense amount of land it requires. “Livestock use 75 percent of the world’s agricultural land,” which includes both the land that farm animals live on and the land devoted to growing crops to feed them, Searchinger said. “Forty percent of the world’s pasture was originally forest. We have lost a huge amount of carbon storage on that land.”
The FAO’s model continues “to ignore the massive land use of animal agriculture, and the major carbon opportunity costs of that land,” Hayek said. Its estimate does account for new deforestation events — for example, when wild land is cleared to make way for cattle pasture or to grow animal feed crops like soy — but it doesn’t factor in carbon storage opportunities on land that’s already been deforested for animal agriculture.
Freeing up some of that land would allow “large-scale reforestation and native ecosystem restoration,” Hayek said, pulling “multiple years’ worth of our carbon dioxide emissions out of the air and into trees, shrubs, and soils, improving the terrestrial carbon sink, and buying critical additional time that we need to reduce other emissions like fossil fuels.”
One influential study, writes Vox’s Kenny Torrella, found that ending meat and dairy production could cancel out emissions from all other industries combined over the next 30 to 50 years. Such a shift wouldn’t mean producing less food to feed the world — it would mean prioritizing more sustainable, plant-based foods that require fewer resources to produce the same number of calories.
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Getty Images/Glowimages RF
Despite consistent findings by a range of scientists on the benefits of reducing intensive livestock production, there are few signs of any significant moves to do so in global climate policy. Some climate and animal welfare advocacy groups fear the livestock industry won’t let a good percentage go to waste, especially one that suggests, at least on the surface, that fewer emissions are coming from more animals.
“I think the livestock sector will say [the new FAO estimates mean] it’s not as bad as everyone thought,” said Peter Stevenson, policy adviser for Compassion in World Farming and author of a new report on the environmental harms of livestock intensification. The US beef industry has already been fighting hard against the growing recognition that keeping the climate within planetary limits will require substantial reductions in beef production.
“There are billions at stake here for those producing the feed, cages, crates, pharmaceuticals, and fast-growing, high-yielding animals that make industrial production possible,” Stevenson said. “The feed industry is the most valuable … worth over $400 billion a year,” he added, referring to the cultivation of crops that feed farm animals. “They have one consumer — intensively raised animals — and of course they want to protect that business.”
Policymakers now face the gargantuan task of not just convincing the meat and dairy industries to accept limits to their business models, but also of persuading a public that’s grown accustomed to cheap animal products to change its consumption habits. Clear science communication from agencies like the FAO, although not enough on its own, will be essential to realizing that goal.
Sophie Kevany is a freelance journalist covering intensive animal agriculture and its impacts on animal, human, and planetary health and welfare. Her work has appeared in the Guardian, Vox, Sentient Media, the BBC World Service, the Irish Times, and other publications. She previously worked for Dow Jones and Agence France-Presse (AFP), and she holds a master’s degree in journalism from Dublin City University.
The reporting of this story was partially supported by Brighter Green’s Animals and Biodiversity Reporting Fund.
How Kissinger centralized White House power, went corporate, and never apologized.
I was sitting on the mezzanine of the Yale Club’s ballroom in midtown Manhattan as a sea of men in dark suits and women in bright dresses stood up from their white-draped tables while a cake was brought out.
“Happy Birthday, dear Henry,” they sang, and the man a few days shy of his 100th birthday blew out the candles, then raised his two arms with a Richard Nixon-like flourish.
This was Henry Kissinger’s birthday celebration at the Economic Club of New York, one of the city’s most elite organizations. He had been introduced by the chief executive officer of the New York Fed. Here everyone was, gathered to celebrate Kissinger and what he represents.
Kissinger’s legacy as a Cold War strategist, influential adviser to Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, and jet-setting diplomatic shuttler has persisted even though he’s now been out of office much longer than in government and has outlived his peers. Despite his record for perpetuating atrocities around the world, he’s still called upon for counsel as to how the war in Ukraine will end or how to avert conflict with China.
During the Nixon administration, Kissinger opened relations with China and helped broker arms control agreements with the Soviet Union. But he also prolonged the Vietnam War and extended the conflict into Laos and Cambodia. As many as 150,000 Cambodian civilians were killed, more than were previously known, when Kissinger ordered the carpet bombing of the country from 1969 onward, as the Intercept’s Nick Turse reports. Kissinger backed leaders in Pakistan and Indonesia as each killed 200,000 people in neighboring territories, embraced Argentina’s military as it disappeared tens of thousands, and supported Gen. Pinochet’s military overthrow in Chile.
Much has been written about his record. Yet three aspects of his legacy — the centralization of foreign policymaking power in the White House, the avoidance of ever apologizing for his destructive actions, and the corporatization of foreign policy — have been less covered. But they capture how America works as a superpower in 2023.
For those reporting on foreign policy, and especially in New York, one is always in Kissinger’s shadow. Even as scholars, journalists, and progressives make a credible case that he committed war crimes (an accusation he has rejected), Kissinger retains many admirers for his realpolitik prowess during the Cold War tensions; new books about his ingenuity as a statesman keep coming out; and he is still writing books, too. On the subway to the event, I saw a young man in shorts and a hoodie reading Kissinger’s new hardcover Leadership. I happened to stumble upon a tiny, 1950s-style shoe store blocks away from the Yale Club, with a picture of Kissinger and its owner on the wall.
He still attends marquee international conferences like Davos and Bilderberg. Kissinger’s assistant told me that he has a tough time keeping up with his boss, even at 100.
Kissinger spoke for an hour at the Economic Club as he slowly and carefully waded into Russia’s war, China’s rise, and the shape of US foreign policy. He has always been circumspect and extremely careful with his words. He stood by everything he had done in his long career.
“My view is, we need to be always strong enough to resist any pressures. We must always be ready to defend what we define as our vital interests. We must also be clear about what our vital interests are and stay within those bounds,” he said.
Kissinger centralized foreign policy power in the White House
Kissinger made an important observation at the Economic Club. “In almost every administration, in foreign policy, the most sensitive tasks are given to the security adviser and not the secretary of state,” he said.
That’s a development that he helped advance, building on the track record of President John F. Kennedy’s national security adviser McGeorge Bundy, who also began to concentrate new powers within the White House.
Thanks to Kissinger, the national security adviser remains the “most important element of performing foreign policy,” as he put it. “You learn how to manage bureaucracy; you don’t learn to ask where you should be going.”
Kissinger eventually consolidated the job of national security adviser and the nation’s top diplomat, serving in the White House and as secretary of state at once. While that exact dual-hatted official hasn’t existed since, that concentration of foreign policymaking among the president’s staff, and away from the State Department, has endured in Democratic and Republican administrations.
He also built out the National Security Council, then just three decades old, expanding the president’s advisory apparatus. In the 1974 biography Kissinger, Marvin Kalb and Bernard Kalb called it “Henry’s wonderful machine” and emphasized how he worked to “centralize foreign policy in the White House and to dismiss or silence dissenters within the bureaucracy — including the Secretaries of State and Defense …” At first, William Rogers, who served as Nixon’s secretary of state from 1969 to 1973, “made no fuss and later, when he did, it was too late,” they write.
That’s a lesson that Tony Blinken, Biden’s longtime aide and the current secretary of state, has recognized. He reflected on his time both as an adviser to the Obama White House and then as deputy secretary of state during that administration in a think tank paper from 2017. “The State Department needs to lean in and put ideas forward. When you lean back, no one in the White House will wait around,” Blinken said.
The national security adviser, who is not subject to Senate confirmation and is often across the hall from the president, has become indispensable for foreign policymaking. Not just as an arbiter of options or an honest broker among secretaries of departments and generals, but in effect as a policymaker.
“Kissinger started that model,” says Jeremy Shapiro, who worked in the State Department during the Obama administration and is now research director at the European Council on Foreign Relations. “Every administration since Kissinger has been the most White House-centric ever.”
Kissinger never apologized for overseas actions, and few US leaders do to this day
In 2001, firebrand author Christopher Hitchens made the case in The Trial of Henry Kissinger that Kissinger was liable for war crimes. At the time, Kissinger sought assurances before doing media interviews that the book would not be raised. He still rarely answers reporters’ questions about the Vietnam War.
To conclude an extraordinary conversation, Dr. Henry Kissinger blows out the candles on his 100th birthday cake on the Economic Club of New York stage. Thank you to all who attended and tuned in, the Club is honored to have hosted such a special celebration.
— The Economic Club of New York (@EconClubNY) May 23, 2023
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