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 CANNIBAL RIGHTS: A NOTE ON THE MODERN LAW OF
PRIVACY
Lawrence M. Friedman* and Nina-Louisa Aroldt

This year, the NILR is pleased to present this short introductorynote on

a topical and intriguing issue in modern comparative law. We hope to
make contributionsof this kind a regularfeature in forthcoming
volumes. - The Editors

Armin Meiwes, who was born on December 1, 1961, burst into the
headlines in his native Germany, by virtue of committing a horrendous
crime. Meiwes searched on the Internet for persons who shared his
sexual fantasy-a fantasy of eating human flesh. Meiwes, according to
his ad, was looking for handsome men between 18 and 30 years old-no
children, please-men who fit his unusual tastes, men, in other words,
who were willing or even eager to be eaten. After a number of false leads,
he got a response from an engineer, Bernd Brandes, from Berlin.
Brandes was a bit older than Meiwes had wanted, but otherwise seemed
perfectly suitable. Brandes consented to be Meiwes' victim. The two men
agreed to record their horrific actions on videotape. On 9 March 2001,
Armin Meiwes began the grisly job. Brandes was subjected to mutilation.
They both tried to eat some of Brandes' flesh (his sex organ, to be exact);
Meiwes then gave Brandes alcohol and painkillers, stabbed him to death,
butchered the body, ate some of it, froze some, and later watched the
video, for his personal enjoyment.

THE CRIMINAL CHARGES

The news of this weird ritual killing was exposed when Meiwes
decided to search on the Internet for another victim. One man, who read
his message, went straight to the police. When the story broke, it of
course made headlines. The tabloid press had a field day. Meiwes was
put on trial, to answer for his crime. An insanity defense did not seem
possible. To be sure, Meiwes was certainly not what most people would
consider normal, but arguably he was not legally insane. He himself,
moreover, was terrified of psychiatry and repelled by the idea that he

Marion Rice Kirkwood Professor of Law, Stanford University. J.D., L.L.M.,

University of Chicago.
t Senior Lecturer; Faculty of Law/Raoul Wallenberg Institute, University of Lund,
Sweden. J.S.D., J.S.M., Stanford University; L.L.M., Lund University.

235
Northwestern InterdisciplinaryLaw Review Lawrence Friedman,
Nina-Louisa Arold

might be locked up for life in some sort of psychiatric institution.' No,

for Meiwes there would be an ordinary criminal trial.
There was not much doubt that Meiwes was guilty of something, and
something quite horrible; but exactly what was the crime? (Cannibalism
as such is not a crime listed in the German penal code). Was this
ordinary murder? Meiwes did, after all, put his victim to death. The
district court (Landgericht)in Kassel decided, however, that his act did
not fit the statutory definition of murder. The German penal code
distinguishes between murder (Mord) and a lesser crime (Totschlag;
roughly manslaughter). To constitute murder, the crime had to be
committed "to satisfy a sexual urge, or out of greed, or some other base
motive" (StGB 211).2 The Kassel court came to the conclusion that the
terms of 211 did not actually fit Meiwes' crime. The crime was not, in
the court's judgment, sexually motivated (a somewhat dubious
assumption). Another provision of the code provided a lesser punishment
for homicide, if the victim expressly and seriously asked to be killed
(StGB 216); but the court found this to be inapplicable, because (in the
view of the judges) Meiwes took too dominant a role in the killing.
On appeal, however, to the Constitutional Court (Bundesverfassungs-
gerichtshof) in 2005,3 the judgment was voided, and the case sent back to
the district court (Landgericht)in Frankfurt. The court in Frankfurt found
Meiwes guilty of ordinary murder, and sentenced him to life in prison.
The court pointed out the strong link between videotaping the ghastly
deed, and Meiwes' use of the videotapes for sexual stimulation; this was
enough, the court felt, to make Meiwes' act murder rather than some
lesser crime. Meiwes now appealed to the Bundesgerichtshof, but his
appeal was not successful. He then lodged a constitutional claim
(Verfassungsbeschwerde) with the Constitutional Court, claiming that the
decisions of the district courts, and the decisions of the Bundes-
gerichtshof, violated his constitutional rights.' In October 2008, the
Constitutional Court dismissed his suit. The court felt that, under the
facts of the case, Meiwes was not entitled to the benefit of the code
provisions about assisted suicide. The court also upheld the point about

1See Gisela Friedrichsen, Ist das zu verantworten?, Der Spiegel (Ger.), Apr. 18,
2005.
2 The phrase in the text of the code is: "zur Befriedigung des Geschlechtstriebs,
aus
Habgier oder sonst aus niedrigen Beweggruenden."
BVerfG, April 2005, Bundesgerichtshof mit Urteil vom 22 (Ger.), available at
http://www.bverfg.de/entscheidungen/rk20081007 2bvr057807.html.
4 Id, para 11: "Mit seiner gegen beide Urteile der Landgerichte und beide
Revisionsentscheidungen gerichteten Verfassungsbeschwerde rtigt der Beschwerdeffihrer
eine Verletzung seiner Grundrechte aus Art. 1 Abs. 1, Art. 2 Abs. 1, Art. 2 Abs. 2 Satz 2
sowie Art. 3 Abs. 1 GG. 12 1. Er macht geltend, der Mordtatbestand sei flir sich
genommen ebenso wie seine Auslegung und Anwendung durch die Fachgerichte im
konkreten Fall verfassungswidrig."

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CannibalRights Vol. IV, No. , 2011

murder for sexual stimulation. Finally, the court felt that the particular
sentence imposed on him did not violate any of his constitutional rights.

THE PRIVACY ASPECT

The legal issues mentioned thus far are not without interest. This
essay, however, concerns another aspect of the Meiwes affair-and one
that reflects a certain difference between German and American law.
The issue was Meiwes' privacy rights. An American company produced
a horror movie, based on the Meiwes case. It was called, in German,
"Rohtenburg" (a play on the name of the German town, Rotenburg, and
the German word roh, meaning raw or uncooked); the English title was
"Butterfly: A Grimm Love Story." The movie was scheduled to be
released in German movie theaters in January 2006. Meiwes asked the
Landgericht Kassel for a temporary injunction (einstweilige Verfiigung)
against the showing of the movie; this was denied. He then appealed to
the OberlandesgerichtFrankfurt, which granted a temporary injunction,
banning the movie from release. On 17 June 2008 the Oberlandesgericht
Frankfurt made the ruling permanent, which meant that the movie could
not be shown at all in Germany.
The case, according to the court, required balancing two competing
interests: Meiwes' privacy rights, and the right of freedom of expression.
The court came down on the side of Meiwes' privacy rights. The movie
did not use Meiwes' name; but there was a very close link between the
real life story of Armin Meiwes, and the plot and characters in the movie.
Since the movie stayed so close to the actual events, it would be hard for
the audience to distinguish between the story on the screen, and what
happened in reality.' The judges did recognize-how could they not?-
that the Meiwes case had generated enormous publicity. In general, a
man who commits crimes like Meiwes' had to accept the fact that his
case has some relevance to valid issues of public interest. But in this
particular situation, in the view of the judges, the horror movie was not
designed to inform the public about issues. Instead, it was meant simply
to provide entertainment, for those people whose tastes ran to this type of
horror movie.
German law distinguishes between two kinds of public figures
("Personen der Zeitgeschichte," literally, persons who are part of
contemporary history). One type would include the German chancellor,
the President of the United States, and others who are obviously
important and famous in every regard. But then there are those whose
position in contemporary history is "relative" or partial. This would
include someone like Meiwes, who became notorious only because of his

OLG Frankfurt am Main, June 7 2008, docket number 14 U 146/07 17 (Ger.),

availableat JURIS.

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Northwestern InterdisciplinaryLaw Review Lawrence Friedman,
Nina-LouisaArold

crime. Such people have a stronger claim to privacy rights than the more
famous and significant public figures. Of course, freedom of expression
was an issue in the case; and freedom of expression is indeed an
important value. But for semi-public figures like Meiwes, artistic
freedom is not absolute; and the movie, which presented a horrific and
"one-sided" display ("eine einseitige Horrordarstellung") crossed an
invisible line. The film was a massive intrusion into Meiwes' life, and a
massive injury to his personality; and, despite the fact that he had
committed disgusting crimes, Meiwes had rights, which the law was
bound to respect 6
A reader might find the result of the case at this point both surprising
and a bit ironic. It is hard to imagine that someone whose actions were
splashed across so many pages of the tabloids could claim that the movie
would constitute an invasion of privacy, beyond the enormous invasions
that had already occurred. Meiwes himself had given many news
interviews about the crime. He had also sold his life story, for media
purposes, to a German production company. He had sent out two emails
with pictures taken from the video. Yet the lower court felt that all of this
was in a way irrelevant. Despite the emails, interviews, and the like,
Meiwes had not totally forfeited his right to protection of privacy.
This was not, to be sure, the last word. An appeal was taken to the
Bundesgerichtshof,and this court reversed the two lower courts. Here the
court chose to emphasize the right to freedom of expression, a right
which includes artistic freedom. Freedom of expression is not absolute,
to be sure; but in the court's judgment, here freedom of expression
outweighed Meiwes' claims to privacy. This court laid considerable
stress on the fact that the plaintiff had himself exposed to the public
details about his life and his crime. All this diminished the force of his
objection to the movie. Freedom of speech and expression cannot mean
that Meiwes had the right "to demand that he be portrayed publicly only
in the way he would wish to be portrayed."'
Thus, at this stage, Meiwes had lost his case. But even so, the history
of his case as it wound its way through the courts had many striking
features. The final decision was certainly not foreordained; the high
courts could have affirmed, if it wished, the judgment of the lower court.
A somewhat similar case had arisen in the 1970's. This case, too, had a
sensational crime in its background -an attack by a left-wing group on a

6 Id.at 12: "Das Recht, Thema und Gestaltung eines Kunstwerks frei zu wdhlen,
findet auch gegentiber sogenannten relativen Personen der Zeitgeschichte, die ein
verabscheuungswlirdiges Verbrechen begangen haben, seine Grenze dort, wo es urn eine
einseitige Horrordarstellung geht. Die Jbernahme einer Straftat sowie des
Pers6nlichkeitsbildes des Taters in einem Horrorfilm stellt eine schwerwiegende
Pers6nlichkeitsverletzung dar."
BGH, May 26, 2009, docket number VI ZR 191/08 (Ger.), available at
Entscheidungen des Bundesgerichtshof.

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CannibalRights Vol. IV No. , 2011

munitions depot. The plaintiff was accused of acting as an accomplice;

convicted; and served a term in prison. A television company laid plans
for a program, which would deal with the crime in detail. The plaintiff
argued that such a program should be kept off the television screens. It
would impair the plaintiff's reintegration into normal society. There was
no claim that the planned program would be inaccurate in any regard.
The German court, however, agreed with the plaintiff; and held that the
program could not be broadcast. What the program would show was "old
news"; no purpose would be served by dredging up the whole sordid
affair once more; and to do so would severely impair the plaintiff's rights,
his ability to start a new life, and to function in society.
The theme that was sounded in these two cases had its parallel in
American case-law-at least once upon a time. A well-known California
case, Melvin v. Reid, decided in 1931, can serve as an example.'
Gabrielle Darley Melvin, the plaintiff, had worked as a prostitute. In Los
Angeles, she shot and killed a man named Leonard Tropp, who had been
her pimp and lover. A sensational murder trial followed. At the trial,
Gabrielle claimed she killed Tropp by accident. Her lawyer tried to paint
a picture of Gabrielle as a victim, a pitiful soiled dove, and Tropp as a
cold-hearted villain. Gabrielle was acquitted. Later, Hollywood made a
movie, The Red Kimono, based on Gabrielle's story. She brought a
lawsuit against the movie company, claiming that the movie invaded her
privacy. According to her, she was now living a life of bourgeois
respectability; and the movie (which used her real name) would destroy
(she said) her new reputation for respectability. This was despite the fact
that the movie painted her in a very favorable light. The California
appellate court agreed with Gabrielle. She had a right to her new life,
free from such unwanted publicity. Her privacy had been invaded.' 0
In cases of this type, the question is, how much privacy protection
should the law give to "public figures"? There are, in fact, two separate
but interrelated questions: first, who counts as a public figure; and
second, how much privacy (if any) should a public figure enjoy. Present-
day American law defines "public figure" quite broadly. And on the
issue of how much privacy such people should enjoy, the answer seems
to be: little or nothing. Melvin v. Reid would surely come out differently
today. Gabrielle would easily fit the definition of a public figure. The

Pawel Lutowski, Private Citizens and Public Discourse: Defamation Law as a

Limit of Free Expression in the U.S. and Germany, 24 GERMAN STUDIES REVIEw 585
n.60 (2001).
9 112 Cal. App. 285, 297 Pac. 91 (1931).
10Interestingly, the lawsuit may have demonstrated, above all, the plaintiff's
astonishing gall. It is likely that, at the time of the case, far from living a life of bourgeois
respectability, Gabrielle was still an active prostitute. But none of this came out at the
trial. Leo W. Banks, Murderous Madam, TuCSON WEEKLY, June 5, 2000, at News &
Opinion.

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Northwestern InterdisciplinaryLaw Review Lawrence Friedman,
Nina-LouisaArold

trial was, after all, a sensational public event. And as a public figure, she
would have virtually no claim for protection of her privacy rights.
But in Germany, and in other European countries, the answer to
these questions might come out somewhat differently. Legal doctrine is,
to be sure, complicated and even obscure, but there is a definite tendency
to be more cautious in defining public figures; and a tendency, too, to
pay attention to the privacy rights of such figures.
Why should this be the case? There are several possible answers.
One, advanced by James Q. Whitman, suggests that European societies,
for complex historical reasons, place an enormous value on human
dignity; and feel that everyone, high or low, is entitled to respect for that
dignity." These, in Whitman's view, are former aristocratic societies that
have "levelled down"; that is, the dignity that once belonged exclusively
to the aristocracy is now accorded everyone, in this age of democracy.
But historically, these European societies differ significantly from the
United States. American society has a very different history and tradition,
and thus a very different calculus of values. There is no aristocratic
background. American "levels up," instead of "levelling down." Indeed,
if you impute dishonor to someone, in Germany, or even insult that
person, you might face at least a minor criminal charge. Such harms are
treated, in a way, the way defamation would be treated. With regard to
the Meiwes case, Whitman's argument might also have a certain amount
of relevance. If personal dignity is indeed a deep-seated trait of European
law, this cultural trait would certainly spill over into the law of privacy.
On the formal level, there is no doubt that continental law expresses
a strong regard for personal privacy and dignity, and for every member
of society. For example, according to Article 9 of the French Civil Code,
everyone "has the right to respect for his private life." Article 8 of the
European Convention on Human Rights has similar language about the
"right to respect for ... private and family life." There is no equivalent
of course in the American constitution (some state constitutions do
mention privacy). But in Whitman's view, the differences are not textual,
but cultural. They are the result of a very long process of evolution, and
of concrete historical and social conditions.
Whitman's argument is subtle and in many ways attractive. And,
surely, there must be some cultural component in the differences
between the various approaches to privacy rights. But whether these
differences flow from long historical traditions is another question; and
we are inclined to a certain amount of skepticism. The histories of the
various European countries are so complex and varied; and the
differences between the cultures and structures of medieval and modem
societies are so great, that one would need more solid evidence before

"James Q. Whitman, Enforcing Civility and Respect: Three Societies, 109 YALE L. J.
1279 (2000).

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CannibalRights Vol. IV, No. 1, 2011

ascribing key legal differences in the world of today, to traditions that

span centuries of ceaseless change.
These legal differences, however, may indeed rest on culture; but we
would be better off, perhaps, searching for clues in contemporary society,
rather than in the historical traditions of the nations. "Culture" of course
is a complex and slippery concept. There are differences between mass
culture, and the culture of judges (and perhaps other elites). On the issue
of privacy rights of public figures, we want to put forward, modestly,
some points about contemporary culture, in Europe and America, which
strike us as at least plausible; and which may help explain the differences
in legal outcomes.
All developed countries share in which we might call a celebrity
culture. A celebrity is not simply someone who is famous. A celebrity is
both famous and familiar-familiar because of the mass media,
especially television. In the past, kings, popes, heroes of all sorts, literary
figures, poets, and aristocrats could certainly be famous; but they were
for the most part remote and distant from ordinary citizens. In some
cases, this was a matter of principle (the Pope, the Dalai Lama, the
Emperor of Japan). More often it was simply because the bulk of the
public had no access to the image and the voice of famous people. Before
the rise of the mass media, most people would never have a chance to see
or hear a President, Prime Minister, a leading General, or a captain of
industry. Today, thanks to the media, the faces, voices, and everything
about celebrities is or can become familiar to the general public. A
"public figure" is literally a figure who is familiar to the public. And this
is true whether the celebrity is the President of the United States, the
Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany, or a movie star, a
football player, or a musician. It is also true of such people as Armin
Meiwes.
In a celebrity culture, people know (or think they know)
everything about public figures. This knowledge generates a further
notion: that they have a right to know. And this subconscious social
demand may be one reason-of course there are others-why courts and
lawmakers have been willing to impair the privacy rights of public
figures.
And yet, we see, in a case like that of Armin Meiwes, a real
distinction between the attitudes expressed in German law, and the
attitudes that underlie the law of the United States. Does Germany have
less of a celebrity culture than the United States? This is certainly
possible; but it does not seem particularly likely, simply on the evidence
of the profusion in Germany of tabloids, fan magazines, and the ubiquity
of the mass media in that country as elsewhere. The German media do
not strike us as more modest and respectful of authority, more committed
to the dignity and privacy of celebrities, than American media. One
German tabloid published a picture of Prince Charles in the shower,

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Nina-LouisaArold

under a screaming headline, "Charles Naked!" One glance at an English

tabloid is enough to demonstrate that this culture, too, whatever the state
of legal doctrine, is a celebrity culture. The difference, then, between the
way public figures are treated in various legal systems may lie not in
mass culture, but in the culture of the legal elite-the judges who decide
the cases, and the legal scholars who write about them. Are European
societies more hierarchical, more deferential to authority, than American
society? Historically, this has been true; and it may be at least somewhat
persistent. It may well be that, despite the tabloids, despite the European
media, some lingering habits of deference to authority, and respect for
traditional elites remain alive in European societies; and that legal elites,
consciously or not, tap into these habits of deference.
Historically, one strong purpose of privacy law was precisely to
protect the reputation of elites. This was part of the original
understanding of the tort of invasion of privacy in the United States. The
famous article by Warren and Brandeis, published at the very end of the
19th century, is usually credited with inventing the tort of invasion of
privacy. The authors were two distinguished and elite men; and their
central argument called for the protection of elites from the vulgarity of
the yellow press. 12 In American law, however, this elite factor has
weakened over time, is badly decayed, and arguably by now has been all
but totally eliminated for public figures. In European law, however, it
seems to have had, at least up to now, a certain amount of survival value.
Of course, the case of Armin Meiwes is hardly evidence, in itself, of
a culture that protects the privacy of elites. A man like Meiwes, who
owes his notoriety to a repulsive and lurid crime, certainly does not
qualify as a member of the elite. Thus protecting the reputations of elites
cannot be a reason for protecting Meiwes' "dignity as a human being."
Nonetheless, a kind of elitism does suffuse the case. Not in the
sense of guarding the reputation of people high up in society, but in
another sense: the sense of not trusting the masses. The lower court in
Meiwes' case expressed quite openly its distaste for tabloid culture. It
refused to grant protection to what was deemed mere entertainment for
the slobbering masses; and it criticized, at least implicitly, the aesthetics
(or lack of aesthetics) of horror films; and the disgusting nature of the
events on which the film, Butterfly, was based. Even though, eventually,
the decision of the lower court was reversed, the mere fact that the case
got as far as it did, and evoked the reaction it did from the courts, is a
quite significant fact.

Samuel D. Warren & Louis D. Brandeis, The Right ofPrivacy, 4 HARv. L. REV.
193 (1890).
13 The Bundesgerichtshof (Bundesgerichtshof Karlsruhe Appl No VI ZR 191/08 26
May 2009) held that the film did not intend to vilify his dignity as a human-being; " . . .
der Film [stellt] keinesfalls die Subjektqualitat, seinen [Meiwes'] Achtungsanspruch als
Mensch in Frage." (p. 23).

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CannibalRights Vol. IV, No. , 2011

Which is more prevalent in developed countries, the German

standard, or the American one? Very likely the German standard. Take,
for example, the case of England. English privacy law is apparently in a
state of flux. The right of privacy in England, such as it is, rests not on
statute law, but on case law-and, more and more, on the European
conventions and the decisions of the European Court of Justice and the
European Court of Human Rights. English judges, however, seem to
share the tendencies of the German judges. The recent affair of Max
Mosley is a prominent example. Mosley is the son of Sir Oswald Mosley,
a notorious figure in his day, the most prominent British fascist leader.
Max Mosley himself has been the head of Formula One, the auto racing
group of the FIA (Federation Internationale de I'Automobile), which
made him something of a public figure in his own right. Its
championship races attract worldwide audiences in the millions.
A British tabloid printed pictures, and published videos, which
purported to show Mosley conducting a long (five-hour) sadomasochistic
sex session, in a Chelsea apartment, with prostitutes. This was, as one
can imagine, sensational news. Mosley brought a lawsuit against the
tabloid, for invasion of privacy. In July, 2008, he won a verdict of 60,000
pounds, said to be the highest ever recovered in a privacy action in Great
Britain.14 The British judges, like the German judges, drew a distinction
between the public interest and what interests the public. That the public
was fascinated by the Mosley affair is obvious. The story sold tons of
newspapers. But the judge found "no public interest or other justification
for the clandestine recording . . . or for the placing of the video extracts
on the News of the World website." An American court, perhaps, would
have come to a different conclusion. The American court might argue
that the public has a legitimate interest in the private lives of sports
figures, and also the private lives of those who manage and administer
the world of sports."
One of the most significant decisions on the privacy rights of public
figures in Europe was the decision of the European Court of Human
Rights, in 2004, in Von Hannover v. Germany.16 The plaintiff here was

14 Mosley Wins Court Case over Orgy, BBC NEWS, July 24, 2008,
http://news.BBC.co.uk/2/hi/7523034.stm. Mosley also brought a complaint before the
European Court of Human Rights; here he claimed that the British government had a
duty under the European Convention of Human Rights to require, by law, notification
before articles that invaded privacy rights were published. The ECHR held there was no
violation of the Convention; this of course did not in any way interfere with Mosley's
victory in British Courts. The ECHR decision is Mosley v. The United Kingdom, ECtHR
Judgment 10 May 2011, Application number 48009/08.
1 See, e.g., Virgil v. Time, Inc., 527 F. 2d 1122 (9h Cir., 1975); Virgil v. Sports
Illustrated, 424 F. Supp. 1286 (S,.D. Cal. 1976), on the privacy rights (or lack of privacy
rights) of a prominent body-surfer.
Von Hannover v. Germany, 2004-VI Eur. Ct. H.R.

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Nina-Louisa Arold

Princess Caroline of Monaco. The princess, the eldest daughter of Prince

Rainier III of Monaco, had been plagued by intrusive paparazzi. She was
suing to prevent publication, in Germany, of the pictures these
photographers had taken. These were hardly sensational photos. They
showed her on horseback, on a skiing holiday, canoeing with her
daughter Charlotte, shopping, and playing tennis, among other things. In
one series of photos, one sees the Princess at the Monte Carlo Beach
Club, dressed in a bathing suit, wrapped up in a towel, tripping over
something, and falling flat on her face.
The Princess pursued her claims through a whole series of courts,
and ultimately appealed to the ECHR, in her attempts to get these photos
banned. Obviously, it would go a long way toward stopping the
paparazzi, if they were prevented from selling these pictures to
newspapers and magazines. The Bundesverfassungsgericht
(Constitutional Court) in Germany had held against her. She was, in their
view, a public figure "par excellence." As such, she was entitled to a
certain amount of respect for her private life, but outside the home, she
lost her privacy except when she had retired to a "secluded place-away
from the public eye" ("in eine irtliche Abgeschiedenheit"). The public,
according to the German court, had a legitimate interest in knowing
about the Princess-what her public behavior was like; where she was
staying, and so on. But here the ECHR disagreed. The Court felt that the
Constitutional Court had asked too much of the Princess. The "criterion
of spatial isolation . . . is in reality too vague and difficult for the person
concerned to determine in advance." And, in the opinion of the court, the
intrusion into the Princess' private life was unjustified. Publishing the
pictures "cannot be deemed to contribute to any debate of general
interest to society"; and its "sole purpose was to satisfy the curiosity of a
particular readership."
Here too, the ECHR is sounding a familiar theme: a theme the lower
German courts had sounded in the case of Armin Meiwes. The public has
a right to know, yes, but only if there is some valid reason to know-
"curiosity" or entertainment, or a prurient interest, is not enough. A
celebrity society generates, in millions of people, this hunger for
intrusion into the lives and the life-styles of the rich and famous; and into
the lives and the life-styles of the notorious as well. The stories about
Meiwes or Moseley were lurid and sensational; and these were both
rather notorious men. There was, of course, nothing lurid or sensational
about the photographs of Princess Caroline. But they were a window into
the life of a famous woman, a Princess of Monaco. Clearly, nobody
would bother her, and she would be left alone to shop or fall on her face
at a beach club, if there was no market for the photographs. There was
indeed a market-a hunger, a curiosity, on the part of the broader public.
But it was not a hunger that, in the opinion of the ECHR, deserved to be
satisfied.

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CannibalRights Vol. IV No. , 2011

THE INTERNET WORLD

Meiwes at first looked like he was likely to win his case. If that had
happened, then, the movie would never be shown in Germany. But that
no doubt would have been an exercise in futility. Perhaps it would be
possible to keep the movie off German screens. But the movie could be
shown in other countries (it has apparently been shown at least by film
clubs), and surely some Germans would be able to see it through
downloads or pirated copies. In the world of email and the Internet,
national borders are more than porous; in some regards, they hardly exist
at all. Some countries make strenuous efforts to police the Internet-
China is an outstanding example -but with mixed results. There is a kind
of "arms race," between authoritarian governments (Iran is another
example), and the skilled young people who find ways to foil attempts at
censorship or control. The developed countries hardly make an effort at
all; or if they do, with little or no success. The norms of free expression
are a formidable barrier to any such efforts. But advances in technology
are the main players in the drama-as heroes or villains, depending on
your point of view.
The Internet has been a major player in the whole Meiwes saga.
Only in the world of the Internet was Meiwes' crime possible at all. The
Internet has accentuated the trend toward what we might call a horizontal
society-a society in which men and women are free "to form
relationships that are on a plane of equality . . . relationships . . . with
like-minded people." Technology makes these relationships possible.
The consequences are vast. In the horizontal society, people can join
groups, and form associations, blocs, or virtual communities, even when
they do not live in compact geographical areas. These groups may be
large and diffuse-handicapped people; or the elderly. But smaller,
fringe groups also can be formed: people who collect Romanian stamps,
parents of premature babies, people suffering from rare kidney diseases.
People with similar likes and wants can find each other on the net,
communicate, share ideas and problems. And they can also mobilize and
join forces to induce government action, if they are so minded.
Meiwes represents a tiny and highly pathological group. The urge
to eat human flesh is, we hope, quite rare; and those who share this taste
are scattered and for the most part secretive. Only the Internet allows
them to come in contact with each other at all. As Meiwes discovered,
most of the people who answered his ad thought he was indulging in a
fantasy; they did not and could not believe that he really meant to kill

1 See John Markhoff, Iraniansand Others Outwit Net Censors, N.Y. TIMES, May 1,
2009, at Al.
1 LAWRENCE M. FRIEDMAN, THE HoRIZONTAL SOCIETY 5 (1999).

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and to eat. The Internet provides an outlet for such fantasies. A well-
known cartoon, in the New Yorker magazine, showed two dogs talking
to each other, near a computer. One of them says: "On the Internet,
nobody knows you're a dog." On the Internet, people can not only reach
others who share their tastes, but they can do it more or less
anonymously; they can communicate under code names that hide their
identity -at least for a while.
Meiwes, of course, was not role-playing; he meant what he said.
And, thanks to the Internet, he found his victim. The Internet was also his
undoing. An Internet secret, for the most part, does not stay secret very
long. Thus, in this drama, the Internet indeed was both hero and villain; it
made the crime possible, but it also led to the downfall of Armin Meiwes.
As information, messages, images, and blogs crowd cyberspace, did
Armin Meiwes really expect that norms of privacy would protect him?
Perhaps. American and European judges seem to look at privacy through
somewhat different lenses. The ultimate outcome was, no doubt, the
same; but what happened along the way illustrates the high value Europe
places on notions of dignity and privacy, even for so wretched a
specimen as Meiwes- and perhaps, also, the low value placed in Europe
on the public hunger for sensation.

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