The Ethics of Killing: Reflections Inspired by Luigi Mangione
Who is Luigi Mangione?
Luigi Mangione is a (well, let's say it - handsome) philosopher who didn’t just sit around scribbling in notebooks; he likes to make waves. Known for challenging societal norms, Mangione poses questions that made dinner party conversations awkward. He gained notoriety for accusing big corporations of moral atrocities like exploitation and environmental destruction, staging mock trials that were part courtroom drama, part performance art. But what really landed him in the spotlight was the whole "murder" incident—more on that in a second—which catapulted him from edgy intellectual to headline-grabbing firebrand.
So, About That Murder…
Here’s where things get spicy: Mangione’s theoretical musings took a sharp left turn into real life when he was implicated in the murder of a corporate executive. Allegedly, this wasn’t just random violence—oh no, it was a statement. According to Mangione’s defenders, this act was a form of rebellion against systemic oppression. To his critics, it was, well, murder. This act turned Mangione into a lightning rod: a messiah to some, a monster to others, and a nightmare for anyone trying to write a clear-cut think piece about morality.
The Relativity of Ethical Killing
Here’s the thing about murder: apparently, it’s fine as long as you’ve got a government-issued badge or flag. Soldiers kill people all the time and get medals for it. But try taking out one corrupt executive who’s poisoned a river or destroyed a rainforest, and suddenly everyone’s clutching their pearls. Mangione pointed out this glaring hypocrisy with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, asking why war—often a giant, glorified mess of politics and profit—makes killing acceptable, while acts of rebellion against arguably more insidious enemies do not.
Why Are We So Weird About Killing?
Humans have a long, complicated history with killing. In the animal kingdom, it’s just business as usual. But for us, every act of violence gets wrapped up in layers of law, culture, and moral posturing. Killing for survival? Maybe. Killing for justice? Depends. Killing for profit? Only if you’re wearing a suit and calling it “economic growth”. Mangione makes us question why we’re okay with mass violence when it fits a tidy narrative but recoil at individual acts of rebellion, even when they’re aimed at the villains of our own stories.
Murder and Morality: Are We Just Making This Up?
The real kicker? Mangione’s provocations reveal that our ideas about morality and killing are about as solid as a Jenga tower in a windstorm. What’s “right” or “wrong” depends on who’s telling the story. Soldiers are heroes, rebels are villains, and the rest of us are just trying to figure out which way to point the pitchforks. Mangione didn’t offer easy answers—because there aren’t any. Instead, he asked us to sit with the discomfort, to question the narratives we’ve been fed, and to admit that maybe, just maybe, our moral high ground is actually pretty shaky.
Luigi Mangione didn’t just challenge the rules; he flipped the entire board. Love him or loathe him, his questions about morality and murder force us to confront our own contradictions. So the next time you hear about a war hero or a corporate scandal, take a moment to ask yourself: who’s really writing the rules of morality, and why do we keep letting them?