Why America’s Rage at Corporate Healthcare Overshadows Victims of Violence
Schadenfreude at the death of Brian Thompson
If you're the CEO of a major healthcare corporation, America doesn't care about you. Damn your humble roots or traumatic struggles to get where you are. You're not the same as us, and we will allot our empathy and compassion sparingly, if at all.
Case in point: Brian Thompson, the UnitedHealth Care CEO, was gunned down outside a hotel on Sixth Avenue in midtown Manhattan last week. Thompson was a smart kid from a humble upbringing in Ames, Iowa. He was a husband and father of two sons. He climbed the corporate ladder to earn the coveted job of CEO, only to be shot and killed at age 50.
After his death, UnitedHealth's bereavement message online was mocked by 77,000 laughing response posts. The comments ranged from, "Thoughts and deductibles to the family. Unfortunately, my condolences are out-of-network," to, "Today, we mourn the death of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, gunned down… wait, I'm sorry—today we mourn the deaths of the 68,000 Americans who needlessly die each year so that insurance company execs like Brian Thompson can become multimillionaires."
After a McDonald's employee notified police of Luigi Mangione, the alleged shooter, this meme started circulating online, further dehumanizing the tragedy.
How can anyone still be shocked about what is unfolding online despite witnessing the tsunami of hate generated during the last presidential election? What's especially troubling is the amount of abuse directed at Mr. Thompson, a victim of gun violence.
Where are the anti-gun violence advocates?
The perpetrator's use of a 3D-printed, untraceable gun is a monumental problem. Perhaps advocates' voices are drowned out by those outraged by the enormous profits of UnitedHealth ($22 Billion in 2023)—or maybe this shooting, targeting a high-profile CEO, doesn't resonate like the tragedies involving children and teachers in schools. No, they’re not equal in the number of human lives lost, but regardless, the ability to manufacture a 3-D printed weapon is a chilling new dimension of gun violence.
Thompson's shooting reminded me of my friend's 37-year-old son, an insurance executive, who was fatally shot in front of a San Francisco hotel last year after an altercation with a security guard. The family has received only sympathy and support resulting from this heinous act, as their lives spiraled into excruciating, relentless pain from losing their beloved son. This grief is what Thompson’s sons are managing right now.
With gun violence on the back burner, the focus has been on our broken healthcare system.
My experience with healthcare has been, at best, adequate and, at worst, frustrating. I'm privileged enough to have medical insurance. The system has not failed except for the usual culprits, like pre-existing condition denials and annual premium hikes for minimal coverage. Neither I nor my family has faced debilitating diseases or injuries. But I've seen enough GoFundMe campaigns and CaringBridge pages to know that people can't afford a catastrophic illness in America.
No one should have to spread out medication dosage or be bankrupted because of a health condition. Health care is a human right.
Thompson's death unintentionally put a face to corporate greed and the lack of care in America's healthcare system.
Many people view corporations as emotionless legal entities only interested in maximizing profits. If you've ever had to press too many buttons to talk to a customer service representative, it's easy to believe that no humans work there.
But they do.
Our perception of a corporation as intangible detaches us from what they are. Many of us have worked for corporations at some point in our working lives. We ate lunch with Bob in Accounting and danced with Jules from the satellite office at the Holiday Party.
Corporations are just people working together. The disconnect occurs between the rank and file (us) and the executives (them).
Those at the top of the org chart are often painted as villains because their wealth creates an illusion of immunity to the very struggles their policies might exacerbate. For example, a CEO who denies health claims is assumed to never face the same indignities and suffering as its customers because of their privilege. This perception fuels resentment and enables mockery or apathy in response to corporate tragedies because people view them as deserved consequences for the systemic harm caused.
Did Brian Thompson deserve it?
Heartless and even corrupt practices were instituted while Thompson was CEO. He became CEO in 2021, and by 2022, the denial rate had increased from 8% to 22.7%. For Medicare and non-Medicare claims, UnitedHealth declines claims at a rate double the industry average.
Under Thompson, the company started automating claim denials, which resulted in their customers either incurring significant costs or being unable to receive medical treatment.
It also appears that Thompson and other top-level executives were involved in insider trading. In February, Thompson sold shares of the company’s stock options worth $15.1 million just two weeks before the DOJ announced its probe into the company.
What's striking is the timing of Thompson’s death intersecting with the broader trajectory of corporate power in America before Trump’s second term. With a pro-business president-elect poised to take office, regulations that check corporate excesses will likely weaken or disappear altogether. This creates a troubling outlook for those already fed up.
Where does this leave us?
The anger directed at Thompson didn’t just happen. It's the product of a healthcare system that feels rigged against ordinary people, a government perceived as beholden to corporate interests, and an online culture that thrives on outrage and dehumanization.
And yet, this doesn't mean we should accept a broken system as inevitable. We have power. When Blue Cross tried to set time limits for anesthesia, their timing couldn't have been worse. After the backlash, they quickly withdrew their plan.
If anything, this moment calls for deeper reflection on how we talk about these issues—and how we can demand accountability while remembering the humanity of everyone involved.
What are your thoughts? Comment below.
Given the chaos that's sure to follow during the next four years, it's likely that the situation will worsen before it gets better, if it ever does. We'll never enjoy the medical care that most Scandinavians and Europeans do.
This was one of the best articles I've read thus far.
I struggle with this situation. This year, I have been at the mercy of my health insurance (and other insurance, too). I've paid so much out of pocket to heal from an accident that I didn't cause.
It was interesting not to jump to empathy and compassion for the death of another. I usually would. It forced me to look into myself and find a lot of anger, resentment, and an objection to the powerlessness I've felt throughout this year.