Living in the present era can feel a bit like falling slowly down an endless flight of stairs while trying to balance cups of hot coffee, or on a particularly discombobulating day, battery acid. We are constantly bombarded with competing stories about reality, all of which generally claim to be true. Most of them are directly targeting our attention in the way most likely to grab it – through language and topics that will trigger concern, distress or self-righteous anger.
It is normal to feel almost permanently destabilised and often suspicious of new information that comes our way. In December, former Greek finance minister Yanis Varoufakis unknowingly shared and condemned an AI image of Bono and Bob Geldof holding Israeli flags, purportedly pictured outside the Israeli embassy in Dublin. The replies beneath the tweet were half outraged agreement with Varoufakis’s melodramatic ire and half people telling him to get a grip and learn to spot the tells of blatantly fake imagery online. The world is changing at a faster rate than we can reasonably keep up with.
It’s normal to absorb conflicting narratives and, as a result, feel conflicted. The CEO shooter story was a fine example. Depending on the corner of the internet in which you found yourself and which media you opted to consume, accounts of Luigi Mangione, who was charged with the murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson in New York, varied widely.
He’s a Batman-type symbol of ethical vigilantism, meting out justice on behalf of the victims of an irreparably broken and inhumane healthcare system. He is the egotistical, smug beneficiary of intergenerational wealth, puffed up by narcissism and a vague set of poorly considered, hypocritical values. He is the man to sound the opening salvo in a new war on corporate elites, whose self-interest and wealth hoarding exacerbate suffering and poverty among the working classes. He is a clever young man who had every chance in life but spiralled into mental illness and misdiagnosed the root of a social and political problem. He is a handsome hero. He is a victim. He is a credulous neophyte. He is a poisonous hypocrite.
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There’s been a palpable shift in discourse and culture, not brought about by Mangione’s decision to – allegedly – shoot a man in the back with a 3D-printed gun but certainly articulated by it. Reified by it. It speaks to a frustration that millennials and Gen Z have been openly articulating for some time now. Mangione’s focus was the unique environment of the US healthcare system. In Ireland, while our healthcare system is clearly in terrible crisis, the differing model limits direct comparison but there is widespread distaste for what is routinely perceived as corporate greed.
There is a perception that among the young (and those described as “young” by Irish politicians because they can’t afford to buy a house or have a family, despite being far from youthful) that Irish people live in a gerontocracy, with those under 40 and their interests disproportionately unrepresented by those in power. That the disparity in wealth, security and quality of life between older generations and younger ones is intolerable, and a point of deep resentment. That the myth of hard work and merit that we were sold growing up grew stale even as we worked toward it and watched it wither out of being.
The result is a generational divide in home ownership, access to healthcare, the ability to have, feed and educate a family. Another exodus of young, educated Irish people to Australia, Canada and other countries has become inevitable. They aren’t going quietly, either. There is no confusion about the sources of resentment that people are nursing.
When Mangione’s “manifesto” was published by independent journalist Ken Klippenstein, the most surprising thing about it was the conventionality of his views. You’ll hear similar sentiments around a lunch table in Dublin, or in the snug of a pub. Yet, most people are decidedly not assembling weapons at home and committing acts of violence in the name of radical politics. They are not channelling Emma Goldman or Théodule Meunier or popularising vigilantism and anarchy on Irish streets. If the riots of 2023 are anything to go by, it seems clear that Irish distaste for corporate greed goes hand in hand with disgust for public violence and flouting of the law.
It’s useful to consider this when we feel torn online or locked in the strange dissonance between our digital imprint and the people we actually choose to be in our everyday lives. Mangione was sure enough of his beliefs to take the life of another person. Opining on social media is often conflated with doing something of impact in the world. It isn’t. It’s just noise. We can lament this gap between what people claim to believe and what they do in the material world, but this time it may be a relief that many of us are not as radical as we claim to be online. Confusion, and not cold certainty, may just be the most rational and sane response to the world we live in.