Democracy, as the brochures tell us, is about civility: marching with signs, writing strongly worded letters, and voting as if your life depends on it. But what happens when those carefully planned routes to change hit a brick wall? When the people in power laugh at your petitions, delete your emails, and spend your GoFundMe donations on another yacht? Well, history has an answer—and it’s not a peaceful one.
Let’s talk about Luigi Mangione, the man who recently “allegedly” assassinated UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson. Now, before you gasp and clutch your pearls, let’s hit the pause button on the morality debate for just one second. Because Mangione, in one single, irreversible act, did something that thousands of people begging for healthcare justice could never accomplish. He made them listen.
Let’s break this down: you’ve got a healthcare system where the people at the top are swimming in money—private jets, catered boardroom lunches, maybe even a pet tiger or two—and everyone else is selling their grandma’s wedding ring to afford insulin. Enter the GoFundMe industrial complex. Need a kidney transplant? Start begging. Want life-saving chemo? Hope your story is sad enough to go viral. It’s like playing “The Price Is Right” with your actual life on the line.
But here’s the thing: none of these desperate cries ever really hit the ears of the people running the system. No CEO is scrolling through GoFundMe thinking, Wow, maybe we should do something about this. They’re too busy using hundred-dollar bills to light cigars.
Then, one day, Luigi Mangione says, “Enough.” One act. One bullet. And suddenly, the system is scrambling. Executives are shaking in their thousand-dollar loafers. Security budgets are doubling overnight. It turns out that when desperation turns to action, the people at the top actually start paying attention.
This isn’t a glitch in the system—it’s how the system has always worked. Let’s take a stroll through history, shall we? Remember the American Revolution? You think King George listened to Thomas Jefferson because his handwriting was nice? No, it was muskets, cannons, and a bunch of colonists saying, “Screw your tea taxes, we’re going to war.”
Or how about labor rights? You think factory owners handed out weekends because they wanted you to enjoy brunch? Nope. Strikes, riots, and the occasional fistfight got that done. Even the civil rights movement—yes, the paragon of nonviolent resistance—succeeded because the power structure knew the alternative wasn’t going to be peaceful.
And Gandhi? Sure, the man starved himself and gave great speeches, but let’s not kid ourselves: the British didn’t pack up and leave India because they were moved by his hunger strikes. They left because the whole place was about to explode into chaos if they didn’t.
Now, fast-forward to Brian Thompson. His death forces us to confront the same harsh reality: peaceful protest is great for Instagram, but it rarely moves the needle. Violence—or even the credible threat of it—forces the people in power to reconsider their priorities.
But don’t take my word for it. Let’s look at how quickly the conversation shifts when violence enters the equation. Before Mangione, it was business as usual—executives cashing checks, patients rationing insulin, and Congress shrugging their shoulders. In fact, that very day—the day Luigi used his gun, Anthem Blue Cross was literally threatening to ration anesthesia in operating rooms! After Mangione? It’s like a scene from a mafia movie: everyone’s on high alert, looking over their shoulders, wondering, Am I next? And Anthem Blue Cross? Yeah. They changed their minds. Funny how that works!
And that, my friends, is the point. Violence doesn’t just get attention—it forces action. Power doesn’t care about your feelings. It doesn’t care about your moral arguments. But it does care about survival. Violence makes the cost of ignoring the masses too high to bear.
This is why those in power go out of their way to paint violence as barbaric and undemocratic. They’ll tell you that marches and petitions are the only “civilized” forms of protest. Of course they say that! They’re not scared of your marches—they’ll even donate to your cause if it means you stay in your lane. What they fear is the moment when desperation turns into something they can’t control.
So here’s the uncomfortable truth: sometimes violence isn’t just a valid answer—it’s the only answer left. When the ballot box is broken, when peaceful protests are ignored, when GoFundMe becomes the default healthcare plan for millions of Americans, what else is there?
This isn’t a new idea. The very concept of democracy is built on the understanding that power must be held accountable. And when the usual tools of accountability—elections, protests, petitions—stop working, violence becomes the final check on tyranny.
Now, does this mean everyone should pick up pitchforks and storm the gates? Of course not. That would ruin the element of surprise. But it does mean we need to stop pretending that polite appeals to power are enough. The people at the top are counting on your civility to keep them comfortable. Luigi Mangione shattered that comfort.
And as ugly, messy, and unsettling as it may be, history shows us that he’s not an anomaly. He’s part of a long tradition of people who refused to play by the rules of a rigged game.
So, the next time someone tells you violence is never the answer, ask them this: How many ignored GoFundMe campaigns does it take to equal the impact of one well-placed bullet? Because, as it turns out, sometimes violence may really be a valid answer.
