THE ATLANTIC OCTOBER 2019 19Another possible expla-
nation for the change
in whale calls is the
achievements of global
conservation efforts. At
the start of the 20 th cen-
tury, an estimated
239 , 000 Antarctic blue
whales occupied the
Southern Ocean. By the
early 1970 s, decades of
commercial whaling—
initially by Norwegian and
British whalers, and later
by illegal Soviet fleets—
had decreased the blue-
whale population in the
region to a mere 36 0. But
since protection of the
sub species began in 19 66,
that number has begun
to rebound. Scientists
have speculated that the
whale’s anatomy deter-
mines that the louder it
gets, the higher the pitch
of its calls. As popula-
tions have grown, then,
the whales may have
decreased their volume
because they are more
likely to be communicat-
ing over short distances.
In other words, Antarctic
blue whales may be
lower-toned today than in
previous decades simply
because they no longer
need to shout.
Last year’s study of
whale calls also sug-
gests a more ominous
reason for the drop in
pitch, however: Perhapswhales don’t need to
be so loud because
sound waves travel
farther in oceans made
acidic by the absorption
of carbon dioxide.
Carbon dioxide in the
atmosphere, meanwhile,
may indirectly influence
whale voices in other
ways. Recent monitoring
of Antarctic blue whales
shows that, during the
austral summer, their
pitch rises. Researchers
have hypothesized that
in warmer months, the
whales must use their
forte volume to be heard
amid the cracking ice—a
natural sound amplified
by unnatural processes,
as rising temperatures
exacerbate ice-melt. So
the impacts of a warm-
ing planet may modulate
animal sounds even in
remote places with barely
any humans, and where
the most thunderous
notes come not from
ships, but from the clatter
of breaking ice.
We may not yet know
what the sounds of
blue whales mean. But
whether through our
intent to preserve these
creatures, or as a result
of refashioning their envi-
ronment, our deeds echo
in their voices.- SKETCH
misconduct. (Trump has denied the alle-
gations.) “They need to be investigated,”
she likes to say.
Her determination to stand by her man
is especially surprising when it comes
to Carroll, because the two women’s sto-
ries are eerily parallel: Both women say
they were tricked into being alone with
the men. Both Carroll and Broad drick
told friends at the time of the incident,
and these friends have corroborated
their accounts. Both allegations surfaced
decades after the fact. Both women said
they were raped, as opposed to sexually
harassed or groped like the other accus-
ers of Clinton and Trump.
Broaddrick told me she thinks Car-
roll just wanted attention. Carroll also
acted strangely during an appearance
on CNN, Broad drick said. “I’m sure she
knows he’s gay, but it was like she was
putting the make on Anderson Cooper.”
Ultimately, Broad drick said, her skepti-
cism comes down to her gut—not just her
feelings about Carroll but about all the
women who have accused the president
of sexual improprieties. “When you’ve
been raped, you have a persona about
you—it’s almost like you can sense it. I
don’t have ESP, but you can almost feel
their feelings if these things really hap-
pened to them.”
She knows a rape victim when she sees
one. It’s hard to believe someone who has
been so wounded by having her own rape
case rejected (not to mention a person
who has worked with abused children)
would so blithely dispense with women
who make similar claims.
Neyfakh has a theory about Broad-
drick’s all-in attitude toward Trump:
“She’s found a willing audience in conser-
vative media. She believes what she needs
to believe.” In other words, he said, “she’s
a partisan hack, like the rest of us.”
Yes, and maybe she’s also embittered
that the women now coming forward
have been taken more seriously than she
was—than she still is, in some quarters.
For all the heightened awareness of sex-
ual assault, we are, of course, a polarized
nation. It is at once astonishing and pre-
dictable that many of us look at an individ-
ual and see only her tribe—even those of
us with the most cause to avoid that kind
of reductive thinking.Amanda FitzSimons is a Brooklyn-based
writer.before we met, George Conway, the
relentless Trump critic and husband of
White House counselor Kelly anne Con-
way, argued in The Washington Post that,
if anything, E. Jean Carroll was at least
as credible as Broad drick, since the lat-
ter had once recanted. (As an informal
adviser to Paula Jones, Conway had had
a front-row seat for the flip-flop.)
The evolving opinion about Broad-
drick’s claim hasn’t inspired her to temper
her support for Trump. Part and parcel of
that is her unwillingness to trust the word
of a single one of the more than 15 women
who have accused the president of sexualthat editors reached out to dozens of peo-
ple for possible inclusion and that Broad-
drick was one of many who didn’t make
it, but Broad drick views the omission as
a personal snub: “#MeToo wants noth-
ing to do with me.”) In April 2018, when
the movement’s founder, Tarana Burke,
was confronted, during a presentation,
about whether she believed Broad drick,
she hedged—more evidence to Broad-
drick that she was being shunned by the
#MeToo universe.
The veracity of her story continues to
be called into question, even by a hand-
ful of people on the right. About a week
Illustration by ESTHER AARTS