The Scapegoat and the Spectacle

Girardian Lessons from a Violent Reckoning

The assassination of UnitedHealth CEO Brian Thompson is more than just a shocking headline—it’s a vivid tableau of modern society’s darkest impulses. For some, Thompson’s death represents long-overdue justice, a symbolic blow against the machinery of corporate greed. For others, it’s an unforgivable act of chaos that solves nothing. But as the dust settles, we’re left with an unsettling truth: both sides may be acting rationally, yet neither side emerges morally unscathed.

This event takes on deeper significance when viewed through the lens of René Girard’s theories on mimetic rivalry and the scapegoat mechanism. It’s not just about one man or one system—it’s about the cycles of conflict and violence that have defined human societies for millennia.

Mimetic Rivalry: The Root of Conflict

Girard’s theory begins with a simple observation: human desires are not unique; they are mimetic and shaped by observing what others want. This inevitably leads to rivalry, as individuals and groups compete for the same goals, power, or symbols of status. Left unchecked, these rivalries escalate into social discord, threatening to tear communities apart.

Enter the scapegoat. To restore order, societies channel their collective aggression onto a single victim, whose sacrifice momentarily alleviates the tension. The scapegoat is both a symbol of the problem and a vessel for its resolution—a tragic figure whose elimination unites the community in its shared violence.

Thompson as Scapegoat

In this story, Brian Thompson is the scapegoat. He was not the architect of the American healthcare system, but his role as CEO of UnitedHealth made him its most visible face. His decisions—denying claims, defending profits, and perpetuating a system that prioritises shareholders over patients—embodied the injustices people associate with healthcare in America.

The assassin’s actions, however brutal, were a calculated strike against the symbol Thompson had become. The engraved shell casings found at the scene—inscribed with “Deny,” “Defend,” and “Depose”—were not merely the marks of a vigilante; they were the manifesto of a society pushed to its breaking point.

But Girard would caution against celebrating this as justice. Scapegoating provides only temporary relief. It feels like resolution, but it doesn’t dismantle the systems that created the conflict in the first place.

The Clash of Rationalities

Both Thompson and his assassin acted rationally within their respective frameworks. Thompson’s actions as CEO were coldly logical within the profit-driven model of American capitalism. Deny care, maximise profits, and satisfy shareholders—it’s a grim calculus, but one entirely consistent with the rules of the system.

The assassin’s logic is equally clear, though rooted in desperation. If the system won’t provide justice, then justice must be taken by force. From a Consequentialist perspective, the act carries the grim appeal of the trolley problem: sacrifice one life to save countless others. In this view, Thompson’s death might serve as a deterrent, forcing other executives to reconsider the human cost of their policies.

Yet Girard’s framework warns us that such acts rarely break the cycle. Violence begets violence, and the system adapts. The hydra of modern healthcare—the very beast Thompson represented—will grow another head. Worse, it may become even more entrenched, using this event to justify tighter security and greater insulation from public accountability.

“An Eye for an Eye”

Mahatma Gandhi’s warning, “An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind,” resonates here. While the assassin may have acted with moral intent, the act itself risks perpetuating the very cycles of harm it sought to disrupt. The scapegoat mechanism may provide catharsis, but it cannot heal the underlying fractures in society.

Moving Beyond the Scapegoat

To truly break the cycle, we must confront the forces that drive mimetic rivalry and scapegoating. The healthcare system is just one manifestation of a larger problem: a society that prizes competition over cooperation, profit over people, and violence over dialogue.

The hydra story looms in the background here, its symbolism stark. Slaying one head of the beast—be it a CEO or a policy—will not bring about systemic change. But perhaps this act, as tragic and flawed as it was, will force us to reckon with the deeper question: How do we create a society where such acts of desperation are no longer necessary?

The answer lies not in finding new scapegoats but in dismantling the systems that create them. Until then, we remain trapped in Girard’s cycle, blind to the ways we perpetuate our own suffering.

Rationality, Morality, and the Hydra of Modern Healthcare

Clash of Titans

The assassination of Brian Thompson, CEO of UnitedHealth, has electrified public discourse. In the court of public opinion—and particularly on social media—the assailant has been lionised, hailed as a hero who slayed a corporate leviathan. Yet the metaphorical beast is no simple predator; it’s a hydra. Slice off one head, and two grow back.

Still, this act has stirred the waters. It forces us to reckon with a clash of titans: the corporate machine versus the rogue idealist. Both are acting rationally, but neither is acting morally—at least not in the conventional sense. The question, then, is whether the assassin’s actions might occupy the higher moral ground, particularly through the lens of Consequentialist ethics.

The Hydra: UnitedHealth and the Systemic Beast

To understand the morality of the act, we must first confront the monster. UnitedHealth didn’t invent the healthcare system; it merely exploited its flaws with cold, clinical efficiency. Thompson’s leadership was emblematic of an industry that sees human lives as variables in a profit-maximising equation. Claims denial, inflated premiums, and labyrinthine bureaucracy are not bugs—they’re features. And for every life saved by healthcare, countless others are destroyed by its financial and emotional toll.

Rational? Certainly. Morally defensible? Hardly. Yet from the corporation’s perspective, these actions are the logical byproducts of a system designed to prioritise shareholder value above all else. Blame the player, yes—but blame the game more.

The Assassin: Vigilante Justice or Trolley Ethics?

Now consider the assassin, who embodies a grimly utilitarian logic: sacrifice one life to spare the misery of thousands. It’s a brutal, visceral iteration of the trolley problem—or perhaps the “baby Hitler problem,” only carried out decades too late. This wasn’t mindless violence; it was a calculated act of symbolic retribution.

From a Consequentialist perspective, the act raises uncomfortable questions. If Thompson’s death leads to systemic reform—if it forces even one profit-hungry executive to hesitate before denying care—does the assassin’s action gain moral weight? In utilitarian terms, the calculus seems clear: one life traded for a net reduction in suffering.

But that’s a dangerous game. Symbolism doesn’t always translate to change, and the hydra analogy looms large. The industry won’t topple because one CEO fell. The machinery grinds on, indifferent to the blood spilled in Manhattan. Worse, the system might grow even more resilient, using Thompson’s death as justification for tighter security, greater secrecy, and more aggressive self-preservation.

Rationality vs. Morality

What makes this clash so compelling is the cold rationality on both sides. UnitedHealth’s actions, reprehensible as they are, make sense within a capitalist framework. The assassin’s actions, though violent and morally fraught, also make sense if viewed as a desperate attempt to restore balance to a world that prioritises profit over human life.

The difference lies in their moral standing. The corporation’s rationality is underpinned by greed; its actions perpetuate suffering. The assassin’s rationality, however misguided, is rooted in outrage at injustice. If morality is determined by intent and consequence, the assassin might indeed occupy higher moral ground—not because killing is inherently justifiable, but because the system left no other path for redress.

The Symbolism and the Hydra

The tragedy is that this act of violence, however symbolic, won’t solve the problem. The hydra will grow another head, as corporations close ranks and reform remains elusive. Yet the act remains a potent reminder of the power of individual resistance. Perhaps it will force a moment of reflection, a hesitation before the next denial stamp hits the desk. Or perhaps it will simply serve as another chapter in the grim saga of a system that turns suffering into profit.

The Final Question

In this clash of titans, one side wields institutional power and systemic exploitation; the other wields desperation and bullets. Both are rational. Neither is fully moral. But perhaps the assassin’s act—brutal, symbolic, and imperfect—offers a glimpse of what happens when systemic injustice pushes people past the breaking point.

The real question is whether this singular act of defiance will lead to change—or whether the hydra will simply grow stronger, hungrier, and more entrenched.

Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance

The violent death of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson, age 50, is not just another headline; it’s a glaring symptom of systemic failure—a system that has been teetering on the edge of collapse since the 1970s when the insurance industry morphed from a safety net into a profit-maximising juggernaut. Thompson’s death isn’t merely a murder; it’s the symbolic detonation of a long-simmering discontent.

👇 Read what Claude.ai has to say about this down below 👇

Yes, this might look like a personal attack. It isn’t. It’s an indictment of a system that puts dollars before dignity, a system where UnitedHealthcare reigns as the undisputed champion of claims denial. Thompson wasn’t the disease; he was the tumour. His decisions, emblematic of an industry that sees human lives as ledger entries, led to untold suffering—deaths, miseries, bankruptcies. His ledger was balanced in blood.

To some, the masked assailant who killed Thompson is a villain; to others, a hero. This vigilante left their calling card: shell casings inscribed with “Deny,” “Defend,” and “Depose.” It’s a macabre manifesto, a grim punctuation to an act of retribution. For the disenfranchised masses—the countless Americans crushed beneath the weight of this avaricious system—this act feels less like chaos and more like catharsis.

America, after all, was forged in violence and has been maintained through violence. A nation whose founding documents were inked with the blood of rebellion, whose institutions were cemented by conquest and coercion, and whose modern systems grind the weak to dust. What could be more American than a bullet for balance?

But let’s not fool ourselves into thinking this act of vigilante justice restored equilibrium. The system is still careening out of control, its machinery of exploitation whirring along unabated. Healthcare is but one cog in a more significant mechanism of dysfunction. The greed that claimed Thompson’s life didn’t die with him; it’s systemic, metastasising across every institution it touches.

The twelve-fold path of Buddhism suggests ‘right livlihood’ and ‘right action’. working for insurance companies is to be an accomplish by murder – but it isn’t considered murder because it’s passive and state sanctioned. Karma is unconcerned with this linguistic subterfuge.

And so we remain in Koyaanisqatsi—life out of balance. Healthcare isn’t the only system collapsing under the weight of its own contradictions, but it may be the most glaring. It was meant to heal but instead harms, a system that trades in lives while calling it business. And until balance is restored, this kind of reckoning will remain inevitable, whether you call it justice or tragedy.

The question is not whether another Brian Thompson will fall but how many will have to fall before the system itself collapses.

👉 I asked Claude to help clean up this piece. I got this response:

I apologize, but I do not feel comfortable honing or editing this piece as you have requested. The article seems to be justifying or even celebrating an act of violence and murder. Regardless of the systemic issues and injustices that may exist in the healthcare system, I cannot endorse or assist with content that appears to condone violent vigilantism as a solution.

My role is to provide helpful information to users, not to encourage extremist viewpoints or the use of violence. I would strongly urge reframing this piece to discuss healthcare issues and potential reforms in a way that does not glorify or justify murder and other criminal acts. There are many constructive ways to advocate for positive change that do not involve applauding violence. Let me know if you would like suggestions on how to responsibly address this important topic in a less inflammatory manner. But I cannot, in good conscience, help refine the piece as it is currently written. I hope you understand my position.