Copy of Corporate Violence Is Invisible—Until the CEO Falls

The murder of UnitedHealthcare’s CEO was brutal, tragic, and undeserved. There is no moral defense for taking a life, and no one should celebrate violence. But this event—and the public reaction to it—made me think deeply about what violence really means.

For most of my life, I thought of violence as something obvious: fists flying, gunshots, blood in the streets. It was something you could see. But the healthcare system has shown me another kind of violence—indirect violence. It doesn’t hit you like a punch to the gut. It creeps up slowly, quietly. It’s a denied claim, an impossible bill, an empty pill bottle because you couldn’t afford a refill.

This system doesn’t just fail people—it kills them. And yet, when the CEO of one of its largest corporations dies, the media shifts focus to scolding everyday people for their anger, their dark humor, or their lack of sympathy.

What’s missing from this conversation is why people feel this way. To dismiss their reactions as cruel or heartless is to ignore something much bigger: the anger comes from a system that has bled us dry, taken our loved ones, and left us begging strangers for help on GoFundMe just to survive. If we ignore why people are reacting this way, we’re ignoring something much deeper: the violence of the healthcare industry itself. If we continue to ignore why people are reacting this way, we’re ignoring something bigger: the healthcare industry kills far more people every year than any single, violent act. We just don’t talk about it.

The Hidden Violence of Healthcare

The American healthcare system is a perfect example of indirect violence. It doesn’t kill with bullets or knives. It kills with denial letters, impossible bills, and deliberate inaction. It forces sick and desperate families to crowdfund their survival on GoFundMe. Imagine this: your child gets cancer, and you’re on Facebook begging strangers to help save them.

Here’s the reality:

• 68,000 people died last year because they couldn’t afford health insurance.
• 1 in 3 Americans skip doctor visits or don’t fill prescriptions because it’s too expensive.
• Over 100 million people in the U.S. are buried under medical debt.

These aren’t just numbers. They’re moms who couldn’t afford cancer treatment. They’re grandmothers rationing insulin because it costs $300 a vial. They’re dads ignoring symptoms because the co-pay is too high—until it’s too late.

Your Nana didn’t die because of bad luck. She died because someone, somewhere, decided her life wasn’t worth the cost. That’s violence—not with a weapon, but with a spreadsheet, a denial letter, or a price tag. And it happens every single day in America.

This is what healthcare violence looks like: families being crushed under bills they’ll never pay, patients rationing medicine, and grieving loved ones asking, “What if we had the money?”

A third of GoFundMe campaigns are for medical expenses. That’s not a safety net—that’s desperation. It’s proof that the system doesn’t work.

Why People Are Angry

So when the UnitedHealthcare CEO was murdered, why did so many people shrug, crack jokes, or keep scrolling? It’s not because people are cruel. It’s because they’ve been crushed by the system that CEO represented.

UnitedHealthcare earned $324 billion last year. Their CEO took home tens of millions in salary and bonuses. Meanwhile, the company denied claims, raised premiums, and turned people’s suffering into profit. If you’ve buried a loved one because their care was “out of network” or set up a GoFundMe to pay for your child’s life-saving treatment, you don’t see a CEO—you see a symbol.

For years, people have been forced to suffer quietly. They’ve watched loved ones die, buried themselves in debt, and lost all faith in a system that treats their survival like a financial transaction. When you’ve been on the losing end of that rigged system for so long, your sympathy runs out.

Dark humor and indifference might not be the most “moral” reactions—but they make sense. People are angry. People are exhausted. And anger is what happens when a system continues to hurt people and then scolds them for being upset about it.

The Hypocrisy of Outrage

Here’s what really doesn’t sit right: When tens of thousands of people die quietly every year because they can’t afford care, no one mourns them. Their stories don’t trend on Twitter. Their faces don’t make the evening news.

But when one CEO is killed? Suddenly, it’s a tragedy that demands national attention. Suddenly, politicians and the media have so much to say about “violence” and “morality.”

Where was that compassion when a 12-year-old had to beg strangers online for leukemia treatment? Where was the outrage when a diabetic died because insulin cost more than their groceries?

This double standard is infuriating. It’s not that the CEO’s death isn’t tragic—it is. But the quiet deaths of everyday people are tragic, too. The difference is, those deaths don’t make headlines because they’re not “newsworthy.” They’re too common.

The healthcare system doesn’t care about those deaths because they happen quietly, in homes and hospitals, behind closed doors. But just because you don’t see the blood doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

Corporate Violence is Still Violence

Let’s be clear: This system is violent.

It looks like this:

• Insurance companies denying treatment to save money.
• Hospitals charging $50,000 for surgery and $100 for a bandage.
• Families buried under mountains of debt because someone got sick.

Every denied claim, every inflated bill, and every GoFundMe campaign is proof of a system that values profits over people.

And while regular people suffer, the CEOs of these companies are rewarded for their “success.” They get millions in bonuses, stock options, and promotions for denying care, raising premiums, and squeezing more money out of struggling families.

It’s violence. It’s just quieter and slower. But it kills all the same.

Fixing the Real Problem

So what should we really be angry about? Not the people making dark jokes or scrolling past the news. Not the people who are too exhausted, too broken, or too frustrated to mourn a CEO.

We should be angry at the system itself.

Here’s what we need to do:

1. Medicare for All: Healthcare should be a human right, not a privilege for the wealthy.
2. Ban Profit-Driven Denials: If a doctor says you need treatment, insurance companies shouldn’t have the power to overrule it.
3. Lower Drug Prices: Insulin, cancer drugs, and life-saving meds shouldn’t cost more than rent.
4. Erase Medical Debt: No one should lose their home because they got sick.
5. Hold Executives Accountable: Stop rewarding CEOs for decisions that hurt families.

The Bottom Line

The CEO’s death was tragic. But so are the tens of thousands of preventable deaths caused by our healthcare system every single year. If we want justice, let’s focus on fixing the system—not shaming the people it’s crushing. Until healthcare stops being a business and starts being a basic human right, this quiet violence will never stop. Let’s fix the real problem. Let’s stop the silent deaths. And let’s aim our outrage where it belongs.