The following is a transcript of this video.
Hello, everyone! Welcome. Today, I’d like to discuss the recently Oscar-nominated film, “The Zone of Interest.”
I chose to talk about this film because, to me, it has been long-awaited. As someone profoundly intrigued by the German philosopher Hannah Arendt’s book “Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil” and her later work, I’ve always imagined seeing a film that truly articulates her rather abstract thoughts.
Then came “The Zone of Interest,” directed by Jonathan Glazer. I believe the film did a really good job fulfilling the task of providing a haunting visualization of the concept of the banality of evil. It narrates the story of Rudolf Höss, the Auschwitz camp commandant, and his wife Hedwig, as they strive to create their ideal family life in a home situated just outside the gates of the Auschwitz concentration camp. The film really delved deeply into the meticulous, infinite details of the unsettling ordinariness within the context of profound evil. It brought the audience to the brink of terror and discomfort within that normality.
So, let’s dive right in and explore what this powerful film brings to the table. I’ll start by discussing the intellectual background of the “banality of evil,” then I’ll talk about how the film addressed this concept, and next, I’ll share some thoughts on how we can think about these ideas in our daily lives. Lastly, I’ll explain one disappointment I have regarding the film.
As always, you’ll find links to all the relevant readings and films down below in the description box.
Voldemort and Traditional Portrayal of Evil
Before talking about Hannah Arendt, we need to start from our traditional portrayal of bad people. Traditionally, we depict evil people as a small group of sinister individuals who are fundamentally different from the norm and from the average person.
Consider Lord Voldemort from J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter” series. He is a dark wizard characterized by a fanatical ideology. Unlike most people, he doesn’t have a family or intimate relationships. Everyday, he is just completely fixated on purifying the wizarding race and achieving immortality.
His cruelty is blatantly obvious in his use of sadistic punishments, and it’s clear he takes pleasure in such acts.
Also, his appearance is equally unsettling. He has snake-like features that apparently reflect his departure from humanity.
Most importantly, and also congruent with our common portrayal of evil, is Voldemort’s exceptional talent. He possesses abilities that far exceed those of the average witch or wizard. His deep mastery of dark magic, encompassing a wide range of spells, curses, and other malevolent practices, distinctly sets him apart from other characters in the series.
This characterization reflects an old belief about evil figures being “abnormal monsters.” Such a portrayal has two implications.
Firstly, it suggests that extremely evil individuals are inherently different from us. It is out of the ordinary. They possess a distinct, inherently wicked nature. In literature and films, this extreme deviation from the norm is often used as a symbol of ultimate evil and power.
This portrayal can be strangely comforting, as it allows us to differentiate ourselves from these characters. We, as hard-working, law-abiding regular folks, can thus maintain a collective sense of innocence through this “us” versus “them” narrative.
Secondly, it implies that ultimate evil can be “great” in its own right, resembling a malevolent genius. These characters are often portrayed as being as profound and talented as their good counterparts, if not more so. This adds a layer of complexity to the concept of evil, suggesting that it is not just about malevolence but also about a certain level of exceptionalism and excellence.
Hannah Arendt is actually the philosopher who most famously dismantled this whole paradigm of how we think about and understand the nature of evil.
The Banality of Evil
In 1960, Hannah Arendt, a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, learned about the capture of Adolf Eichmann. Eichmann had been a Nazi official deeply involved in the Holocaust and was on the verge of standing trial in Jerusalem.
Arendt reached out to William Shawn, who was the editor of The New Yorker at the time and successfully persuaded him to send her to Jerusalem as a reporter. While there, she attended Eichmann’s 1961 trial and meticulously documented her observations. These insights were initially published as articles in The New Yorker and were subsequently expanded into her 1963 book “Eichmann in Jerusalem.” Contrary to popular assumptions, the conversation did not stop there; in fact, this experience profoundly influenced Arendt’s philosophy for the rest of her life.
In her report and later reflections in The Life of the Mind, Arendt noted that Eichmann, contrary to popular assumptions of him as a perverted monster, had appeared as a mediocre and thoughtless bureaucrat.
She said, “I was struck by a manifest shallowness in the doer (Eichmann) … The deeds were monstrous, but the doer – at least the very effective one now on trial – was quite ordinary, commonplace, and neither demonic nor monstrous.” （The Life of the Mind p.4）
“Despite all the efforts of the prosecution, everybody could see that this man was not a “monster,” but it was difficult indeed not to suspect that he was a clown. “(Eichmann in Jerusalem p.54)
What made Hannah Arendt’s point very controversial to this day was that she believed Eichmann hadn’t displayed fanatical adherence to Nazi ideology. She said,
“Except for an extraordinary diligence in looking out for his personal advancement, he had no motives at all. ” Eichmann in Jerusalem p. 287
“… his (case) was obviously also no case of insane hatred of Jews, of fanatical anti-Semitism or indoctrination of any kind. ” (Eichmann in Jerusalem p. 26)
Arendt suggested that Eichmann’s main drive was his career advancement, not ideological belief or moral conviction. His “extraordinary diligence” in pursuing personal goals indicated ambition that was self-centered and bureaucratic, not driven by a broader ideological agenda.
Don’t get her wrong. For Arendt, there was no question that Eichmann was responsible for the atrocity. His crime was hideous. Her point was that he was neither diabolically abnormal nor intellectually superior, as people usually assumed.
Now, compare this case study with the example of Voldemort in Harry Potter. Arendt’s description of this type of evil person can make us feel very uncomfortable because we can no longer easily identify evil with individuals that are radically different from the “norm” or from us.
You know, most people have the basic desire to see themselves as morally upright persons. I work very hard, have a family, and look normal, thus I automatically belong to the good ones, right? Arendt is the one who says, wait a minute, see, under certain circumstances, ordinary people could be capable of participating in great atrocities as well. Her idea indeed disturbs many people’s moral complacency.
As Arendt pointed out,
“They knew, of course, that it would have been very comforting indeed to believe that Eichmann was a monster, … The trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that the many were neither perverted nor sadistic, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal.” (Eichmann in Jerusalem p. 276)
For Arendt, Eichmann’s defining characteristic was his lack of thought and complacency in failing to reflect. She argued that his brand of evil was not rooted in “greatness” but was rather shallow and bland. This arose from an absence of critical thinking and self-reflection. In essence, his thoughtlessness was what facilitated his significant role in the Holocaust. Despite his unremarkable intellect and motives, Eichmann’s critical failure in ethical thinking enabled his immense evil.
The Zone of Interest
Now, let’s delve into the film itself. So Jonathan Glazer took on the challenging task of depicting the Nazis and their unfathomable atrocities. Perhaps his experimental approach can inspire more representations of banal villains in cinema and other art forms in the future.
The film opened with the portrayal of an ordinary and affluent German family that led a well-ordered life. The couple was hardworking, with the husband going to work every day, and the wife meticulously managing a large house, an extensive garden, and a beautiful swimming pool. The scenes depicted the typical images of domestic life characterized by a busy, routine, and somewhat bland atmosphere. It couldn’t have been more normal.
However, this apparent normalcy sharply contrasted with the harsh realities of the Holocaust that unfolded just beyond their home, where adults in the household were actively involved. The house was separated from the concentration camp by only a high brick wall. The constant presence of smokestacks, faint screams of victims, gunshots, and the smoke and orange glow from the crematory ovens contributed to an increasingly unsettling atmosphere.
Rudolf Höss, the father in the family and the Auschwitz camp commandant, participated in meetings with coworkers to make the camp’s ovens more efficient. These ovens were a reference to the crematoriums used in the Holocaust for mass extermination. This was one instance where the disturbance became extreme. In a typical setting, adults who were serious, hardworking, and focused on rational efficiency and practical matters were often regarded as noble and morally upright. This perception was based on widely held values that equated such traits with responsibility, dedication, and a strong work ethic. However, in the context of the Holocaust, these qualities were applied to the logistical organization of mass murder, making it one of history’s greatest atrocities.
The film was rife with such contradictions between the expected behaviors derived from their mundane activities and the actual behavior and discussions of the characters. For instance, what would typically be considered a warm gesture, like the husband bringing home items and the wife happily distributing them to other family members, took a chilling turn when it was revealed that these items were belongings taken from the prisoners.
Other unsettling events included the wife applying lipstick taken from the coat of a Holocaust victim in front of her bedroom mirror and giggling when referred to as “the queen of Auschwitz.”
As the film progressed, these small yet disturbing details accumulated, gradually intensifying the discomfort and leading the audience to confront the unimaginable horror.
One of the most disturbing moments in the film, to me, occurred when Hedwig confronted Rudolf and insisted on not relocating their family from Auschwitz. She adamantly refused to leave the beautiful home she had created for herself. To her, Auschwitz – their Auschwitz – represented a paradise, the perfect place to raise their family.
There was certainly nothing ordinary about referring to one’s home near a death camp as a dream place. Many boundaries needed to be crossed to remain undisturbed by muffled gunshots, the screams of victims, and unimaginable atrocities just on the other side of the wall. Her sincerity and passion were bone-chilling. I remember thinking to myself in the theater, “This is the moment of evil. If that’s not a villain, I don’t know who is.”
Once again, her evil was not distant or grandiose. She was not a stereotypical “calculating, sadistic genius.” The wickedness did not arise from ideological fanaticism but from a commonly shared, understandable desire to own a beautiful home and have a perfect family. This leads to my first point about the ethical and political dangers inherent in our current achievement society.
Keep a Healthy Distance from Your Ambition
In my last video, I talked about how we are currently living in what philosopher Byung-Chul Han calls an “achievement society.” This society doesn’t just encourage but expects us to perpetually aim for improvement and excellence. This unrelenting emphasis on achieving success, which is deeply molded by societal norms, can lead to expressed or quiet feelings of worthlessness. After all, the flip side of ambition is often a sense of inadequacy, isn’t it?
I argued that one direct consequence of living in such an achievement-oriented society is the deterioration of our relationship with ourselves. This encompasses a profound and widespread desire to be rid of our current selves and become someone else, a phenomenon Kierkegaard would frame as despair.
Another danger inherent in our current achievement society is the possibility for profound ethical and social failures due to our hyper-fixations on personal goals and subsequent diminution of connection to others and moral sensitivity.
Both Hannah Arendt’s philosophy and “The Zone of Interest” emphasize the fact that monstrosity and evil deeds do not necessarily stem from overtly criminal motives, such as a thirst for blood. Instead, they can originate from very mundane and relatable motivations, such as Rudolf’s ambition to advance in his career or Hedwig’s quest for the perfect house.
While it is perfectly justifiable for individuals to pursue aspirations like landing a dream job, starting a family, and reaching other significant life milestones, the risk arises when these normal yearnings become so extreme that they lead to total moral blindness or indifference to their neighbors’ suffering. In The Zone of Interest, the word “neighbor” took on a literal and physical meaning. These works mean to challenge our moral complacency and call for a deep level of self-scrutiny in this achievement society.
In my last video, I discussed methods for reestablishing a relationship with oneself, which included two exercises and engaging in what Kieran Setiya refers to as “atelic activities.” I do believe by actively reestablishing that connection with oneself, there is also the potential to nurture one’s moral sensibility.
Don’t Shy Away From Deeper Conversations
The most fascinating aspect I observed in the film was how dysfunctional their family relationships were. Whether it was between Rudolf and Hedwig, Hedwig and her mother Linna, or between the children and adults, genuine and open-minded conversations were conspicuously absent.
In Hannah Arendt’s book, “The Life of the Mind,” she told the readers that she was struck by the profound shallowness in Eichmann. The film portrays a similar shallowness in Hedwig’s character. Beyond superficial matters like requesting her husband to take her to the spa in Italy and issuing orders to the children, she basically avoids engaging in conversations about deep feelings, reflections, and ideas. Any attempt at an honest and in-depth conversation met with resistance from her.
In dysfunctional relationships, shallow conversations act as both a symptom and a maintenance mechanism. When individuals in a relationship resort to shallow conversations, it’s frequently a strategy—whether conscious or not—to avoid confronting deeper issues in life. This point was made clear when Rudolf reveals that, during a significant Nazi gathering, he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of gassing everyone in the rooms with high ceilings. Hedwig quickly ends this alarming conversation by stating, “Well, it’s the middle of the night, and I need to go to bed,” thus avoiding any genuine engagement with the content of Rudolf’s thoughts.
This is what I appreciated the most about the film: its deep dive into themes such as shallowness, dysfunctional relationships, and the wider implications of societal atrocities and individual complicity.
Hedwig’s character, in particular, embodies a profound inability to love, both within her family and in her political complicity with the Nazi government. Her vanity, superficiality, craving for power, and, most critically, her steadfast avoidance of any profound self-reflection or meaningful dialogue, are depicted with stark clarity. This portrayal is effective in demonstrating how a lifestyle marked by emotional detachment and a lack of introspection at the individual level can facilitate a collective desensitization to cruelty and injustice.
One Major Disappointment in the Film
You see the more I talk about Hedwig, the less I am satisfied with the film’s treatment of Rudolf. While the film attempted to portray the unfathomable evil committed by the most banal and thoughtless bureaucrat, it surprisingly lacked in character development for Rudolf compared to Hedwig.
It’s important to remember that Rudolf Höss was the commandant of the Auschwitz concentration and extermination camp complex from 1940 to 1945, where he personally oversaw the extermination of approximately 1.1 million people. His role involved the logistical planning and execution of mass extermination, including the selection of gas chamber technologies and the disposal of bodies. This position did not merely require work efficiency but a profound detachment from the humanity of the victims.
It’s disappointing that the film failed to adequately portray the actual Nazi commandant but instead focused on his wife as the epitome of the banality of evil. Yes in the film, there were attempts to explore Rudolf’s character, like when he was shocked by finding a bone fragment in a river or when he tried to vomit towards the end but couldn’t. These moments seemed to just skim the surface of his character, focusing on trivial aspects rather than the more disturbing aspect of the person. This concept of banality of evil, outlined by Hannah Arendt through the observation of Eichmann, emphasized the persistent resistance of moral reflection, shallowness, and vanity, which the film didn’t fully capture with Rudolf.
When you compare this to how Hedwig is portrayed, there’s a noticeable gap. Hedwig’s actions and remarks, such as her laughter when dubbed the “queen of Auschwitz,” are given much more depth. This inconsistency in character development is puzzling and somewhat dilutes the film’s attempt to probe the nature of evil. At some point, it almost seemed to me that the director lessened the seriousness of Rudolf’s actions.
Ending
Here are my thoughts on the film. Thanks for watching this video, I will see you next time. Bye!