Backstabbing for Beginners

My name is Michael Sullivan

and I have a story...

I think you're gonna want to hear.

Michael Sullivan?

How long have you been a lobbyist at Belasquian Banks?

Uh, two years.

A lot of strategy, research and support.

Hmm. That's a good job.

You're not happy there?

No, I just-- I don't want to wake up when I'm 40 and discover

the only thing I've contributed to the world is tax shelters,

sweatshops, and holes in the ozone.

You're an idealist?

You know, for as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a diplomat.

I want to make a difference in the world.

Your father was a diplomat.

-Uh, yeah, US State Department, he-- -Lebanon. 1983.

I'm sorry for your loss.

My father passed away when I was little.

He was killed in the bombing of the US Embassy in Beirut

when I was five years old.

One of my earliest memories is my father telling stories

about the founding of the United Nations.

We'll find a way to end war.

He made it sound like modern day knights sitting around the Round Table.

I wanted to follow in his footsteps.

By the fall of 2002, I had applied for a job

at the United Nations four times.

- Hey! - Uncle Michael!

My sister says it's because foreign service is in our family legacy.

- Hey little brother, how are ya? -Hey, good.

-Sorry I'm late. -You look good.

And just like my mother,

she married a guy she met while interning at the UN.

So I got you something small, but something else is on its way, okay?

-Hey, Trevor. -Hey.

-Nice cake, Lily. Got enough Danish flags? -Yeah, yeah.

Well, did you hear anything?

Uh, no. I'll hear tomorrow.

But how'd it feel?

Good?

No, I was too nervous.

Oh, well, it's their loss.

I'm sure you'll get it. You've been working so hard for this.

Yeah.

And it's somebody's birthday, so should we do cake?

Yes!

♪ Happy Birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy Birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy Birthday dear Kate ♪

Best candidates keep getting hired away by fucking hedge funds.

Michael Sullivan.

I knew his father.

Danish passport.

His mother's side, but he's only 24 years old.

He'll do.

I thought I would start with some entry-level assignment.

Instead I got a dream job.

Special Assistant to the Under-Secretary-General...

running the largest humanitarian program in the United Nations' history.

I couldn't believe my luck.

All I kept thinking was, "Don't fuck this up."

The program is called Oil-for-Food.

It's created in 1995 by Security Council resolution 986,

which has stated that the UN would manage the sale of Iraqi oil

and use the profits to provide humanitarian relief in the country

to alleviate the hardship.

Which basically means that our office

is in charge of trying to feed an entire nation,

over 20 million people.

You have a little reading to catch up on.

We are woefully behind schedule

on our funding status report to the Security Council.

Your immediate task will be to help facilitate its completion.

Your predecessor was due to brief the undersecretary tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

What happened to him?

A car accident in Iraq.

- -

Jesus Christ! Is he all right?

No, he didn't make it.

A bullet-point summary will do.

Pasha will be in his office at nine.

Got a couple of minutes, Michael?

Justin Cutter, Central Intelligence.

Really?

Yeah. We come in all shapes and sizes.

Okay, can I help you with something?

Listen, we think Oil-for-Food is being gamed for private gain

by a bad guy or bad guys unknown.

Possibly with help from the inside,

-which is where you are, so-- -Look, I-- I just got this job.

I'm not gonna-- I'm not gonna spy for you.

Oh, God, no.

No, no, leave that to the professionals.

I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Michael.

Just keep your eyes and ears open, that's all.

For God and Country.

I was aware going in that the Oil-for-Food program

had become something of a political football.

The program budget was 10 billion dollars a year.

The entire rest of the UN operational budget was only two.

There was crazy money to be had.

Special interests circling like buzzards.

The program was simple.

Because of the economic sanctions imposed against Saddam Hussein

after the first Gulf War, Iraq's economy had crashed.

People were starving and dying from a lack of basic medicine and staples.

The Oil-for-Food program was designed to provide Iraqi citizens

with what they needed to survive.

While at the same time, preventing Saddam

from developing his alleged weapons of mass destruction.

Under UN supervision, Iraqi oil was being sold at market prices

to pay for humanitarian aid.

Our job was to keep it funded

by making sure everything went by the book.

I'm here to present the summary.

He'll be with you in a minute.

... this fucking regime!

Unbelievable.

Yes, I sorted it. There's always a solution.

No, we chartered a load of taxis, filled them.

That should last the outlying villages till we get the trucks back.

You call this a summary?

Fucking War and Peace.

Sorry, sir, I was trying to be thorough.

Thorough?

Yes, sir.

Fuck.

Well, just give me the highlights, kid. Otherwise we'll be here till spring thaw.

Yes. We have, uh, decreased the malnutrition rate,

reduced child mortality. We've also, uh,

made big strides in access to water and electricity.

There are, however, some, um,

systemic distribution failures, particularly in the North.

The Kurds are getting shorted, uh, wheat, milk, diesel fuel

to the benefit of Tikrit,

who are getting seemingly more than their fair share.

Saddam's hometown, what a surprise.

Yeah.

There are also all these after service fees, uh, in the contracts.

I'm pretty sure they're kickbacks.

If you wanna take a look,

I highlighted and aggregated them on page 26 to 29.

It's a lot of money, sir.

In some places it's as much as 30 percent.

- -

Sit.

- -Kid.

Sit down!

The first rule of diplomacy is that the truth is not a matter of fact,

it's a matter of consensus.

The consensus right now is that the sanctions are here to stay.

The Americans and the British will never lift them,

which means... that if you want the people of Iraq to survive,

we have to keep Oil-for-Food running.

-Even with all its warts and flaws. -Sir, you do not need to--

The second rule is to keep your mouth shut and listen.

Then if it suits, you can talk.

With discretion.

Otherwise, keeping your cards close to your vest.

Yeah.

Your father was a good man.

You should be so lucky as to have his heart.

Yeah, so I've been told.

We crossed paths a couple of times.

Must have been '79, '80.

What a tragedy.

Beirut.

Fuck. I'm sorry.

That must have been hard, a boy growing up without a father.

It was my normal.

I had my cry.

Good.

Fix your summary.

Go home and pack.

We leave for Baghdad on the red-eye.

-Uh... -What? You have other plans?

No, I don't.

Of course not.

Thank you.

I was swept up in the romance of it.

I mean, this is what I wanted:

high adventure and a worthy cause.

It's like Baghdad was my Casablanca.

More or less sketchy, crazy, dangerous and stranger

than I could've ever imagined.

The country lived in a state of permanent self-occupation.

Our Baghdad office is going to present a problem.

Okay.

We can't let this director sabotage the report.

Why-- Why would he sabotage his own report?

She.

So the Security Council will be forced to lift the sanctions,

and everybody can cash in on the deals they made with Saddam

back before he rolled into Kuwait and pissed off the world.

Jesus H. Christ, kid.

Gonna have to fucking teach you everything from scratch.