This isn’t about Luigi Mangione; it’s about You
On the American Value of Hard Work
What transpired on Dec 4 has elicited something very special from the public. I’d be surprised to meet someone who didn’t know what happened, or didn’t know the name “Luigi Mangione” by now. It’s brought up a lot that has been festering here—not in a divisive way, but in a way that highlights the compassion and indignation we have for each other—and in a way that disillusions people not of the American Dream, or of the direction of our government, but of the idea that each group of us is the only one who has been so disillusioned.
Growing up in this country we were taught that anyone can be whoever they want here—that that made us different from other places; that the United States is a unique experiment in democracy: if it doesn’t work here, it won’t work anywhere, they said. While most of us in adulthood have been reprieved of such delusions of both the uniqueness of humanistic values and the idea that such values are woven inextricably into our governmental and socioeconomic system, the ideals remain within us as a people. We’re also disillusioned of the idea that these values are acknowledged and enacted freely; that anything worthwhile on such a large scale can be had without a concert of hard work.
But we are Americans, and we’re used to hard work. It is a value impressed on us from a young age and it is necessary for most of us to live here. After Hurricane Helene hit Appalachia, it was (and still is) regular people helping each other out. People who have visited since the storm can confirm that the rumors are true: although things are gradually improving, many Americans are still struggling. People who had toiled their entire lives are now living in tents with a harsh winter to eek through, their livelihoods washed away with the storm in many cases. Even in autumn, some people were already found frozen on their property. Some (lucky) people received a pittance from FEMA, and as far as I am aware, nothing from corporations.
Where is the help from those who have the most to give? There are donations from individuals who were unaffected, but what about the institutions people had paid into their whole working lives? All the time, effort, and money drained into bloating corporate profits and a tax system that sends our money overseas, just to convey an ongoing supply of food, and a roof over their head that is no longer available to them? What has been built with all the hard work, but a tenuous scaffolding that topples into the lush grass of the Blue Ridge Mountains to disassemble and sink into obscurity like any other bones? Americans work hard, and we the people unwittingly or unwillingly worked hard to build a system that would not support us. Just as well, it is the hard work of regular people that will save this country.
The conversation taking place in the aftermath of Brian Thompson’s death is not just about healthcare. It’s about a system that seeks to crucify someone for a life taken from one of its most esteemed members. The spectacle of Mr. Mangione’s captivity is proof of that. This is all leading up to me saying that, regarding the crime Luigi Mangione is accused of, I’m not convinced he did it. Certain things don’t add up, such as there being two backpacks (???), and him not looking quite like the guy in the original security footage. However, he's become a symbol for the strength and cunning of the American spirit; for some latent power that has been undulating through the population, now burgeoning with rage. Officials have chastised his supporters to an impenetrable wall of sardonic laughter, eloquent anger, and unhinged thirst edits. There’s hope for us. I want there to be hope for him, too, but remember: symbols are given meaning by the people who promulgate them. There is a person behind the symbol who matters inherently, but the symbol itself only matters because of us. There has been a manipulation of our power and impact as a force in this world.
Our own labor: our time, our sweat, our focus—our very lives—are used against us to further our cornering into a position nearly inescapable; to make us something less than human; something to be used. Those that refuse to pay their employees enough to save anything want a captive source of labor. They don’t want any of their workers to be able to pivot to anything else. It’s about far more than profit: it’s about harnessing a population into desperation and unwilling servitude. It is about treating people like objects and treating corporate entities like people. It’s about offering nothing until it has taken everything. It’s about a people being ruled by fear: of getting fired, of getting unreasonable price increases, of getting sick or injured. It’s about a fear that can be captured and redirected by the parasitic ruling class; it’s about a population being embarrassingly puppeteered. It is about this dehumanization being turned around onto corporations where it should have been all along; it is about fear being transferred from the minds of working Americans into the minds of those who seek dominion over us as a people—a people that ought not to be trifled with.
If you take anything from this short piece, I want it to be that if you are a “regular person,” doing a job in an office, a restaurant, a shipyard, at home, or what-have-you, or if you do work amongst loved ones--if you bring joy or warmth to anyone’s life for even a moment--you matter, and you are necessary for our survival. You are more than what a corporation would ever deem you. You matter more than Brian Thompson or Elon Musk—who cares about an exploitative CEO or some house flipper of the tech world? The greatest people, for the most part, are our grandmothers, our fathers, our siblings, our pets, those rare friends who are always there for us, and our helpful neighbors. It’s good people we actually know, who do what they can in everyday life to make our country great, and whose humanity and actions are more needed than ever. It’s you.