Internal Cartography of a Violent Spark
A Reflective Treatise on the Health-Insurance CEO Assassination, the Shattered Illusions of Reform, and the Dreams of a More Humane World
“We are all so clumsily embedded in illusions that, when one is violently dispelled, it can feel like we’ve lost a limb.”
— personal journal note
I. Prologue: A City’s Wake-Up Call
On a brisk December morning in Midtown Manhattan, Brian Thompson, the CEO of a colossal health insurance enterprise, was shot dead outside his hotel. It was that sterile hour between night’s hush and the city’s caffeinated rush, so the shocking act carried a cinematic kind of dread. Passersby froze. Sirens wailed. Journalists scrambled. And the entire country was soon confronting a moral puzzle: Why had an assassination, so clearly premeditated, happened in the heart of the wealthiest city on Earth? More disturbingly, why did a significant cluster of onlookers greet it with a measure of glee?
This question, I suspect, will haunt us for many years. Murders are not unusual in the United States, yet certain killings function almost like an “X-ray” for public sentiment—exposing structural fractures in how we organize power and profit, compassion and cynicism. Thompson’s assassination turned out to be exactly that: an X-ray. It scanned an entire healthcare model that was widely seen as exploitive or unscrupulous. It revealed an electorate so exhausted by unpayable bills, so resentful of claim denials, that a violent “eye for an eye” retribution narrative sprang forth. In that narrative, the assassin (someone with enough skill to 3D-print a firearm and plan an escape route) was recast by some as an antihero—a vigilante who “fought back against corporate oppression.”
It should go without saying that murder of any person, from any background, is a moral wrong. But the range of responses—everything from condemnation and sadness to gallows humor, memes, and gleeful justification—points to an unraveling of illusions about the system. That unraveling begs us to explore illusions more deeply: illusions about who controls our health, illusions about the inevitability or necessity of corporate gatekeepers, illusions about whether lethal force can solve structural injustice, illusions about whether technology or ideological fervor can bypass the hard work of honest reform.
And I, personally, enter this terrain carrying my own bundle of illusions and hopes. For years, I’ve daydreamed about entirely new ways of organizing society—some “hypermodern democratic” approach that could make insurance-based cruelty obsolete. Although no such grand scheme truly exists in the real world, I can’t help but imagine alternative frameworks. But even those visions must face the searing reality of this assassination. Because violence casts illusions into stark relief: We either examine them or let them fester. This treatise is my attempt at the former—a thorough, perhaps meandering, reflection on the illusions shattered, the illusions that remain, and the psychological or philosophical anchors we might cling to for clarity.
II. The Shattered Illusions of Corporate Inviolability
There’s an oft-quoted line from Albert Camus, who once said in The Rebel, “Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence.” In the outcry following Thompson’s murder, we see a rebellious bitterness: fed-up citizens no longer believe the usual justifications for how healthcare is rationed. They nurse a “nostalgia” for a world where coverage is not subject to profit margins.
Until recently, many assumed CEOs of major insurers lived in a high castle of personal security—a fortress built from wealth, NDAs, lobbyists, and general public apathy. That was an illusion, quickly dispelled. Thompson’s killer, by targeting an immensely powerful figure, ripped open the assumption that corporate gatekeepers were physically unassailable.
This single event thus shattered illusions at multiple levels:
The Illusion of “Nobody Will Go That Far”
Public frustration with coverage denials is ubiquitous, but rarely does it manifest in homicide. The assumption was that the line of lethal force was taboo. Then the taboo was broken, revealing a depth of rage we might have undervalued or rationalized away.The Illusion that Corporate Might Erodes Personal Vulnerability
A top executive, commanding vast resources, was gunned down in a moment’s notice. Suddenly, those who shape coverage terms from lofty boardrooms realize that people are sometimes desperate enough to push back in horrifying ways.The Illusion that a Single Person Controls the System
People’s celebratory or mocking responses to Thompson’s death also suggest a misguided belief: that by killing the “villain,” the entire beastly system might quake or fall. That belief, too, is an illusion, one that oversimplifies the deeply embedded nature of for-profit healthcare.
Despite the moral wrongness of murder, it forced many to confront the question: How did we let the system degrade so much that, for a subset of onlookers, an assassination became justifiable, even praiseworthy? Sometimes illusions don’t fade gently—they collapse under the shock of raw violence.
III. Claim Denials, AI-Driven Cost-Cutting, and the Seeds of Fury
At the heart of the health insurance quagmire is the “white-collar cruelty” of denied claims—so banal in its execution, so catastrophic for the patient or family. Some angry voices on social media recounted stories of medically necessary treatments refused, or coverage yanked due to obscure fine print, or “medical necessity” being determined by algorithms. If you place yourself in the shoes of a person who watched a relative die, blaming the insurer’s labyrinthine rejections, you can sense how illusions about corporate compassion vanish, replaced by unbridled wrath.
“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” — William Shakespeare, The Tempest
That line might ring in the ears of a mother whose child’s chemotherapy was delayed over a technical glitch, or a father told his back surgery was “experimental.” For many, the once-held illusion that “there’s a safety net if I pay my premiums” collapsed when insurance turned recalcitrant. The psychological toll is enormous, leading to an anger that smolders for years.
Then, add the ongoing move to AI-based adjudication. While advanced technology might expedite approvals or reduce overhead, in many cases it only doubles down on cost-saving denials. People suspect that faceless scripts and algorithms are deciding their fates, irreversibly, with no empathy. The illusions of a caring representative shrink to zero.
Somewhere along this continuum, an assassin emerges. This is not about excusing his violent act, but about understanding how illusions about “helpful corporate partners” mutated into illusions about “narrowing all evil down to one CEO.” This dynamic is psychologically potent, because once illusions about fairness die, people can easily pivot to illusions of retribution: If the system is rigged, only a bullet can break it. It’s a terrifying pivot, but it clarifies just how dangerously illusions operate at both extremes—first, illusions that the system is fair, then illusions that vigilante acts can fix it.
IV. The Surprising Applause: Online Cheer as a Symptom of Deeper Trauma
For many observers, the real shock wasn’t just the killing but the wave of “Haha” reactions on social media. The chilling moment came when, in comment sections and subreddits, thousands showed glee. Some turned Thompson’s face into a meme: “Denied coverage? Deny a life.” Gallows humor abounded.
From a psychological perspective, Carl Jung might interpret this phenomenon as a collective “shadow” surfacing—a communal expression of repressed fury. He wrote: “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” In the swirl of social media, the “darkness”—the pent-up resentment, betrayal, and sense of helplessness—was made startlingly public. People who never condoned murder might nonetheless express “good riddance” because they see Thompson as an architect of a monstrous pipeline.
The phenomenon resonates with how Gustave Le Bon described “crowd psychology.” In emotional group settings, reason can be supplanted by raw sentiment. Once a large enough chorus voices relief or schadenfreude, individuals feel emboldened to join in. The illusions that maintain normal social restraints dissolve. This mass alignment can metamorphose an act of lethal violence into a weird kind of spectacle or “fan event.”
Such an atmosphere should concern us all. When illusions about social trust or moral norms collapse, violence can become normalized in the public mind. Even the notion of “just one bullet” as a legitimate problem-solver creeps in, turning ordinarily peaceable citizens into spectators who quietly cheer the brandishing of lethal force. That’s not a society on stable foundations. That’s a society flirting with an avalanche of fractious vigilante impulses.
V. The Futility of Single-Target Assassination
Certainly, the illusions that removing a single CEO might vanquish or soften the entire health insurance apparatus are naïve. The system is a web of regulatory frameworks, legislative bargains, thousands of employees, reinsurance markets, and the unstoppable push for profits. Taking out one executive is like snapping one branch off a massive tree, imagining that the trunk will wither. Another executive steps in, the stock price adjusts, the claims bureaucracy reconstitutes itself.
Even so, illusions can be stubbornly resistant to evidence. People’s long-standing frustration blinds them to the system’s resilience. The bullet that ended Thompson’s life will not slash premiums or force full coverage for advanced treatments. There was no coup d’état of the entire enterprise. The illusions that violence can be a catalyst for comprehensive reform, gleaned from movies or from historical episodes of tyrants toppled, do not translate smoothly into the specialized complexities of American healthcare.
This points to a deeper malaise: If illusions about peaceful change also vanish (because incremental reforms feel glacial or hijacked by lobbyists), then illusions about violent direct action might gain emotional appeal. We land in a vicious paradox: it’s widely recognized that lethal vigilantism cannot truly fix the structure, yet for some it still becomes psychologically tempting as a primal scream. This tension forms the crux: illusions about “the system can’t be changed from within” meet illusions that “a bullet changes everything.” The outcome is a climate of unpredictable terror.
VI. The Temptation of “New Governance”:
Do Grand Experiments Linger in the Imagination?
I have often mused about radical reboots of governance, driven by a desire to see insurance intermediaries become obsolete. Maybe it’s not a real plan but more a mental experiment: we create a new social compact where coverage is universal, financed publicly or via mutual-aid membership. Instead of corporate boards, we have democratically elected committees that weigh coverage guidelines in transparent ways. The illusions of “trusted paternal insurers” would vanish, replaced by direct accountability.
But illusions can appear here, too. Hannah Arendt wrote in On Revolution that “Every revolution begins by delivering the promises of human equality but ends by extending the chain of bureaucracy.” The dream of overthrowing old frameworks can yield new frameworks just as hierarchical and just as prone to rationing. So the illusions of a new era might degenerate into bureaucratic sprawl. If coverage is mandatory, who sets the budget? If universal, who polices cost or misuse?
Nevertheless, might such illusions be harnessed positively as impetus for constructive activism? Possibly. Freud once suggested illusions need not be false if they serve the “wishes” of a people striving for a more just future, as long as they remain open to critical testing. So, the illusions of a comprehensive reorganization—unlike the illusions fueling assassination—do not rely on violence. They rely on creative institutional design. If those illusions prompt alliances, legislative proposals, and local initiatives that aim to dethrone the insurance oligopolies, we might avoid repeating the prime error of channeling heartbreak into a single bullet.
Yet illusions can also be undone by the tangle of real politics. Some people see these grand ideas as “impossible daydreams.” The older illusions about “the market knows best” might overshadow the new illusions. In short, illusions jostle illusions, and the forces that profit from the status quo are well-armed to sustain their vantage.
VII. The Psychology of “Folk Hero” Glorification
The alleged shooter, an Ivy League grad with advanced engineering chops, found a portion of the internet swooning. Some drooled over his “attractive mugshot.” Others labeled him “the avenger.” Folk hero worship surfaces whenever a single individual pulls off an audacious strike on a widely loathed power. One part dread, one part fascination, it’s reminiscent of how criminals who rob big banks sometimes become cultural icons. In countries with glaring inequalities, this dynamic can be heightened.
Friedrich Nietzsche might note: “Anyone who fights monsters should see to it that he does not become a monster.” The romanticizing of killers is symptomatic of a deep cynicism that sees no other route for justice. It’s a “will to power” moment: if the system is monstrous, then the only way for the oppressed to reassert a sense of agency is to celebrate an individual who crosses the moral boundary into homicide.
But illusions of heroic violence hold a double danger: they feed a cycle where more disaffected souls might consider murder as a route to instant validation. Once that ideology metastasizes, each subsequent act of lethal aggression can be reframed as “the next blow for justice.” In an era of fractious social media, illusions about “the unstoppable heroic outlaw” might lead to real bodies on the pavement. That is a terrifying prospect. It can only be forestalled if we collectively reaffirm the taboo around killing as a means of retribution, no matter how unjust the policies in question.
VIII. Denunciation vs. Disavowal: The Need to Understand the Roots
Public officials and media outlets scrambled to condemn the murder. That condemnation is morally appropriate. But condemnation alone can inadvertently deepen illusions if it glosses over why so many people are cheering. Some politicians call these celebrants “depraved.” But if the celebrants see themselves as survivors of a system that denies them dignity, labeling them “depraved” only entrenches them further. They might say, “Yes, we are depraved. Look what your system forced us to become.”
To defuse illusions, we must unearth the root grievances. This means acknowledging the existential terror of being denied coverage for a critical procedure, the agony of rationed care, the humiliating runarounds. We might also weigh how corporate communications could do better—especially in times of appeals. Even if the system cannot magically fund every treatment, a more transparent and humane approach could keep illusions of personal malice from festering.
Erich Fromm wrote in The Sane Society, “Man may lose himself in institutions that do not serve him.” In this instance, the man who pulled the trigger “lost himself” in the institution’s perceived cruelty and found no recourse but bullets. Meanwhile, onlookers who applaud see the same institution as their personal tormentor. So unless reforms address the soul-crushing sense of betrayal, illusions about moral vigilantes remain potent.
IX. Are There Nonviolent Paths to the Same Anger Release?
One key question: if illusions that violence can fix healthcare are so destructive, what illusions or ideas can channel that same anger constructively? How might the outraged translate their fury into something more akin to mass boycott, mass lobbying, or the formation of alternate coverage cooperatives?
Boycott: In a competitive environment, one might theoretically boycott certain insurers. But illusions about “choice” remain complicated; many employees have only one insurer option provided by their employer.
Lobbying: People might attempt to press legislators for incremental expansions of public coverage. But illusions about how quickly legislative change can come about might hamper momentum. Or cynicism might overshadow the illusions of meaningful reform.
Building Cooperatives: Groups might form local health co-ops with membership fees, forging direct deals with providers. A partial alternative model. However, illusions about immediate scalability or indefinite cost coverage might lead to heartbreak if big medical expenses exceed the co-op’s reserves.
In short, illusions exist wherever we turn. But illusions that revolve around creative, collective enterprise are at least less lethal than illusions of a heroic gun. If illusions about corporate paternalism have died, if illusions about bullet-based redemption are also lethal, perhaps illusions about imaginative co-ops or new frameworks stand as a middle path. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” That is, if we keep forging alliances, the illusions of powerlessness might yield to a gradual but real empowerment.
X. The Philosophical Weight of This Moment: A Fork in Our Collective Road
Given the swirl of illusions, grief, and half-articulated reform fantasies, the Thompson assassination might become a watershed. People can respond by doubling down on security—insurers cloistering themselves behind steel doors, accelerating the impersonal AI approach. Or they can open discussions: “How do we prevent the system from so thoroughly alienating people that they pick up arms?”
Jean-Paul Sartre said, “We are our choices.” Right now, the system’s guardians choose how they will interpret the assassination. Will they see it as an irrational outlier or as an alarming symptom? If they treat it as the latter, illusions about permanent immunity might fade, replaced by a will to meet the public halfway. Possibly, that yields regulatory and legislative moves toward universal coverage or at least stronger consumer protection. Possibly, it just yields more superficial PR.
The illusions among the populace also face a test. Will they see that vigilante murder is a false dawn? If illusions about peaceful recourse remain vanishingly small, more violence could follow. That might prompt the rest of us to unify around new illusions: illusions that real, collective political power can overhaul the system. It’s not a guaranteed success, but if illusions revolve around building, not destroying, they might do less harm.
XI. A Glimpse of a Non-Existent Future State
In my private writings, I’ve conjured mental pictures of a hypothetical advanced “state” or membership-based global system that eliminates traditional insurance profit motives. While it doesn’t exist in reality, the conceptual scaffolding has always beckoned me: Think of a massive membership pool, democratically run, that negotiates care directly with providers. Freed from the illusions of corporate paternalism, it fosters transparent rationing where every coverage denial has an appeals board open to all. Even claims over extremely costly therapies are handled by rotating citizen juries who weigh evidence-based guidelines. No ghostwritten policies, no manipulative “deny, delay, defend” slogans—just a structured approach that tries to keep illusions at bay by maximizing public involvement.
But illusions also swirl in such utopian sketches. The architecture of enforcement, the risk of infiltration by profiteers, the question of adequate funding for end-of-life treatments—these remain unsolved. Perhaps the best we can do is glean from this imaginary blueprint a sense that we can realign incentives if we’re collectively resolute. If illusions about a hopeless, unstoppable insurance Goliath are dispelled, might we channel that moral fervor into forging real-world pilot programs?
XII. The Danger of Staring into the Abyss
In the immediate aftermath, we also worry about copycats. Those who rejoiced openly might spark new illusions for other lost souls: illusions that “if I do the same, I’ll be remembered as the next avenger.” If we drift into that territory, we risk normalizing what a stable civilization must never normalize: strategic killing of perceived oppressors.
Ludwig Wittgenstein once observed, “Ethics, if it is anything, is supernatural and our words can only express facts.” To paraphrase, if we can’t find a moral anchor in the face of raw factual horrors (like murder), we risk sinking into nihilism. So it behooves us to reassert not just practical arguments against homicide, but a moral stance that denies illusions about vigilante violence. That moral stance must also come with empathy—an empathy that acknowledges real suffering, insists on nonviolent solutions, and invests wholeheartedly in them.
XIII. The Calm After the Storm: Lessons from This Tragedy
Most likely, the insurance giant will pivot. Possibly, they rebrand, tighten security, or bury disclaimers deeper into unread T&Cs. Meanwhile, Thompson’s family endures unspeakable grief—humanizing the reality that behind “the CEO” was a father, a partner, or a friend. And thousands still face bankrupting bills or lethal waiting periods for claim approvals. Their illusions of “someone up there must care” are shattered. Instead, they see endless phone lines, AI rejections, and now a new script: “We can’t come to the phone—under threat.”
In that sense, illusions about the system’s capacity for empathy degrade further. We might be left with a vicious standoff: The insurer fortifies itself. The public grows resentful. Politicians weigh small reforms. Meanwhile, illusions that lethal defiance might be repeated swirl in the margins.
Yet, if there’s any optimism to salvage, it lies in the possibility that this murder might jolt the broader citizenry out of complacency. Perhaps illusions that “everything’s basically fine” no longer hold. Once illusions fall away, clarity can form. A new wave of activism might rise, demanding fundamental changes in how claims are handled. That activism, crucially, must reject illusions that violence offers a pure solution. Instead, it can adopt illusions of constructive alliances: illusions that solidarity, policy craft, and unwavering moral suasion might, over time, shift this intransigent behemoth.
Simone Weil wrote, “Imaginary evil is romantic and varied; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring.” The idea that an assassin’s bullet might free us from real evil is that “romantic imaginary evil.” The actual, day-to-day evil of the system is mind-numbing in its bureaucracy—boring in the sense that it kills softly, with denial letters and endless loops. The only long-term remedy is the unglamorous, persistent pursuit of structural changes.
XIV. On the Edges of Hope: Finding a Way Forward
If we accept that illusions about a single lethal act reconfiguring healthcare must be renounced, yet illusions about corporate paternalism are also defunct, we stand at a crossroads. The only illusions we might sustain are those that push for renewal of civic processes. When illusions go bankrupt, the bridging concept is often hope—not naive hope, but a rationally tested hope that collective will can yield incremental gains: from better coverage transparency to partial expansions of public insurance, from capping certain out-of-pocket expenses to ensuring an appeals process is truly neutral.
Though slow, these reforms nibble at the edges of the monstrous labyrinth. If illusions about unstoppable corporate might fade, people might be open to scaling up these partial solutions. Could we reach a moment in which the health insurance structure is overshadowed by more direct, public or community-driven coverage systems? Maybe. That’s partly up to us, as illusions about inertia fade.
XV. Conclusion: The Blood on the Sidewalk as a Moral Mirror
Brian Thompson’s assassination stands as a brutal condemnation of the illusions that corporate decisions—some verging on arbitrary cruelty—would never incite lethal rebellion. It also reveals illusions in the public mind that one death could strike fear into every executive’s heart, thereby “saving countless lives.” We end up with a tragedy steeped in illusions from all directions.
Fyodor Dostoevsky once wrote, “If God does not exist, everything is permitted.” This resonates in a secular sense if we interpret “God” as the moral conviction that certain lines (murder, exploitation) must never be crossed. If that moral conviction erodes, illusions about rightful killing creep in. Thus, the death in Midtown reveals a vacuum at the ethical center of our healthcare system: no strong moral impetus arises from corporate HQ, and the public no longer believes in gentle remedies.
Our next steps require us to speak plainly:
We unequivocally condemn the killing as a moral atrocity, but also hold compassion for the anger that produced celebratory onlookers.
We acknowledge the daily tragedies of coverage denial that shaped illusions of righteous vengeance.
We discard illusions that a bullet can recalibrate an entire behemoth.
We open ourselves to illusions about forging innovative coverage frameworks, local or national, that might salvage public trust.
We proceed with caution, knowing illusions can blind us if not questioned often.
No single essay can dispel illusions that have taken root over decades. But perhaps we can awaken a new sense of possibility—and responsibility. If illusions about peaceful reform have faded, let us replenish them. If illusions about unstoppable corporate power remain, let us chip away at them. Let the memory of that morning’s blood on the sidewalk remind us of how fragile our illusions can be, and how explosive the anger once illusions crumble. Our challenge, then, is not to pretend illusions don’t matter, but to craft illusions that serve life, empathy, and justice—rather than illusions that justify murder or preserve a system that leaves so many to suffer.
Written by Chelsea Evers
Edited by Tom Cares
Views expressed are those of Chelsea Evers, though both strongly condemn violence towards decision-makers and condemn any sentiments that such violence is a solution to grievances.