In the wake of the early morning murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson in New York last week, social media radiated not with shock and horror, but with something closer to joy. “This has to be the new normal,” one X user wrote, “EAT THE RICH.” “My only question is: Did the CEO of United Healthcare die quickly or did he have to wait months to find out if his insurance would cover his treatment for the fatal gunshot wound?” I posted another one.
The joy with which so many people online responded to news of the murder shocked the consciences of politicians and experts alike. How are we to make sense of such a grim, ugly public sentiment?
History can provide an answer.
In 1959, Marxist scholar Eric Hobsbawm introduced the concept of “social banditry” into the historical and sociological lexicon. Social bandits were sometimes fictional, sometimes real, figures who operated outside the law and were widely revered for their efforts to bring about justice in an unjust world – such as Robin Hood, the legendary English bandit who lived in Sherwood Forest and, with his gang, Merry People, “stole from the rich and gave to the poor.”
Hobsbawm’s theory, which historians still debate, rested on a fairly specific Marxist analysis of power and economic relations in agrarian societies, in which bandits (or the idea of bandits) offered a form of resistance in the face of rampant inequality. But such characters transcended different geographies and times, ranging from the fictional Robin Hood in 14th century England, to brutally violent real-life outlaws like Jesse James and Billy the Kid in the post-Civil War era of the United States, to Pancho Villa at the beginning of the war. 20th century Mexico.
What happened in New York was not a folk tale; it was a stone cold murder. The shooter is not a hero; he is a murderer. But much of the killer’s performative flair is reminiscent of the social bandits of old: Thompson’s shooter left clues to his motive on bullet casings, hid his face with a mask and dropped a backpack full of Monopoly money before hitting it a bicycle took off. And when police arrested 26-year-old Luigi Mangione in connection with the murder, he was said to be carrying a manifesto. Although law enforcement is still investigating his motives, it appears clear he was trying to send a social message with the attack.
The popular response, too, is reminiscent of the writings of Hobsbawm—and suggests that the American political system may be broken in ways that invite a popular celebration of contemporary social outlaws. It’s not just about the state of American healthcare, but that’s the lens through which many people viewed the story. On the contrary, as Hobsbawm argued, when people lose confidence in the state’s ability to address their concerns and grievances, they sometimes look to bandits who offer themselves as an alternative.
A Marxist scholar writes in the early Cold War era, Hobsbawm belonged to a broader intellectual tradition that sought to critique capitalism. He also wrote at a time of global decolonization, when peasants and marginalized groups in the Global South struggled against colonial and imperial powers. A pioneer of ‘history from below’, Hobsbawm was particularly interested in exploring the relationship between peasant societies and revolutionary change, with a special focus on underground forms of resistance.
Through its portrayal, social banditry attracted popular attention and support in rural settings where the state was particularly weak, the long-standing prerogatives of peasants were eroding in the face of economic change, inequality was rampant, and there was little credible institutions (e.g. trade unions) existed to achieve this. provide a more constructive form of resistance to powerful people – such as the famous Sheriff of Nottingham – who abused their power.
Whether it is Rob Roy MacGregor, alias the Scottish Robin Hood, or Ned Kelly, a 19th century Australian outlaw, “the crucial fact about the social situation of the bandit is its ambiguity,” Hobsbawm wrote. “He is an outsider and a rebel, a poor man who refuses to accept the normal rules of poverty. … This brings him closer to the poor: he is one of them. It places him in opposition to the hierarchy of power, wealth and influence. He’s not one of them. … At the same time, the bandit is inevitably drawn into the web of wealth and power. Because, unlike other peasants, he acquires wealth and exercises power. He is ‘one of us’, who is constantly in the process of becoming associated with ‘them’.’ (Of course, being “one of us” doesn’t mean the social bandit doesn’t come from wealth or privilege. Just as Robin Hood bait evolved from its 14th-century roots, the masked bandit became a former nobleman who turned a traitor to his upbringing and entrusted his fate to the poor. It is about affinity and identity, not about background.)
Notably, social bandits in real life were often extremely violent men. That was certainly true in the case of Jesse James, the infamous American bank and train robber, and Confederate guerrilla, who became a folk hero after the Civil War. A native of Missouri, James fought for the Confederacy as part of “bushwhacker” units known for their brutal guerrilla tactics, including attacks on Union troops and civilians. James’ crimes were deeply shaped by the racial violence of the time and reflected his opposition to the abolition of slavery and his commitment to preserving white supremacy. Despite this, he was romanticized in popular culture as a Robin Hood-like figure. Admirers even wrote a ballad in his honor:
Jesse James was a man
And he killed many men
He robbed the Glendale train
And he took from the rich
And he gave that to the poor
He had a hand, a heart and a brain
As intriguing as it was to draw connections between centuries and continents, Hobsbawm’s theory of peasant protopolitical resistance was criticized. Some scholars have argued that he romanticized bandits as champions of the oppressed, overlooking the more selfish or violent aspects of their actions. So far, they noted that some bandits exploited their communities as much as they opposed the elites. Others noted that bandits were not consciously political or revolutionary, although this criticism missed the point: the popular worship of social bandits was itself a form of what scholars call “prepolitical” or “protopolitical” action—forms of resistance that do not. explicitly engage with formal political systems or institutions, but may still reflect political consciousness, grievances, or a challenge to the status quo.
Regardless, the framework is instructive. And it helps us unravel last week’s tragic events in Manhattan.
On one level it is not difficult to understand why many people celebrated a vigilante attack on a health insurance executive. The United States spends one-sixth of its GDP on health care, yet 8 percent of its citizens are uninsured and about 23 percent are underinsured. According to political scientist Miranda Yaver, assistant professor of health policy and management at the University of Pittsburgh, “In 2022, more than 1 in 4 Americans reported delaying or forgoing medical care, prescription drugs, mental health care or dental care due to high costs. ” , with 17 percent of insulin users reporting they are rationing their insulin in 2021. It’s no wonder that a November 2023 Gallup Poll found that only 31 percent of Americans trust the U.S. health care system.”
Yaver, whose book, Denied coverage: How health insurers promote inequality in the United Statesto be published in 2026, conducted a nationwide survey of health insurance denials and found that “36 percent of 1,340 American adults had experienced at least one denial, and most of them had experienced this practice more than once.”
Clearly, the public’s exhaustion in dealing with these challenges was reflected in the popular online response to Thompson’s death. But the social banditry framework is a useful tool for thinking about our broader political environment.
Hobsbawm linked banditry to moments of economic and social unrest, when a weak or unstable state infrastructure could not meet the needs of the people. In the early modern era, such instability could have resulted from the enclosure of communal lands, the transition to capitalist or market-based agricultural systems, or the collapse of traditional feudal structures. Bandits filled a power vacuum created by the state’s inability to deliver justice or provide economic stability.
The federal government in 2024 is of course much more powerful than the weak state structures Hobsbawm studied, but it is probably just as ineffective in important areas. In recent years, Congress has essentially stopped making legislation, failing to pass routine budget and appropriations bills, let alone enact sweeping structural reforms that could provide permanent fixes to, for example, the health care system . In turn, presidents have assumed greater executive power, but it has been held in check by the courts, which—at least when the sitting president is a Democrat—have sharply limited the executive’s powers in areas as diverse as immigration, student debt forgiveness and environmental protection. .
If you subscribe to Hobsbawm’s thesis, in a world where ordinary people feel the pinch of economic inequality or change, and where they have little confidence that the state can redress their grievances, social banditry becomes an attractive force. Public confidence in government is at an all-time low. In such an environment, it’s no wonder that a masked killer with a bag of Monopoly money can instantly become a folk hero.
The lesson is and should be troubling. Social bandits capture the public imagination not only because they take from the rich and give to the poor, sometimes by force. Their power lies in the vacuum of an effective government. In the absence of a strong and responsive government, many Americans may continue to celebrate social banditry as an expression of their dissatisfaction with the state of the economy. And while some bandits are brutal and good-natured, like Robin Hood, they are just as often as Frank and Jesse James: violent, bloodthirsty and dangerous.