Challenging Stereotypes: Luigi Mangione's Betrayal and the Fragility of White Supremacy Narratives
The Collapse of Perception and the Illusions of Supremacy
Examines how systemic racism and mass incarceration perpetuate a racial caste system in the United States. It highlights how criminality is often racialized, reinforcing societal divisions.
They are losing their minds over Luigi, unable to comprehend how someone from their own class could pose a threat and betray their caste. They can’t make sense of what’s happening because he doesn’t fit the image of the villain they’ve constructed.
This was my comment under Joris Lechene’s reel.
Yes, I am talking about Luigi again, but this case is bigger than him. In every narrative we have absorbed—whether through books, media, or the unspoken rules passed down by society—they made sure to often made a clear distinction between the hero and the villain. The villain is othered, easily identifiable, and crafted to embody qualities that seem foreign and distant. This separation brings empire comfort. It reassures them that danger and betrayal exist outside their communities, far from spaces they consider safe and familiar.
But what happens when the villain looks like them?
Luigi Mangione’s betrayal shatters this carefully curated illusion. His actions—his ability to threaten and betray those within his own caste—tear at the very fabric of how his peers understand loyalty, identity, and power. The disbelief surrounding Luigi’s treachery exposes more than shock; it reveals the brainwashing at the core of how we perceive good and evil.
The narrative about who the villain should be is not neutral. It is a pillar of white supremacy—an insidious framework designed to convince us that danger has a face, and that face rarely resembles a white man. This story serves not only to divide but to protect the systems that uphold inequality. It preserves power by casting betrayal and criminality as traits of the "other"—whether defined by race, class, or culture—ensuring that those at the top rarely confront the corruption within their own circles.
For Luigi’s peers, the idea that someone from their own class could pose a threat feels inconceivable. In their minds, the role of the traitor has already been assigned to someone outside their social, cultural, or racial boundaries. The villain must always be different, an outsider looking in. So when Luigi—a reflection of their values, background, and standing—steps into that role, their narrative unravels. This dissonance is not new. It exists at the heart of how white supremacy operates. The belief that evil is external allows systems of injustice to flourish unchecked. History tells this story repeatedly—atrocities are justified when the villain is painted as foreign, dangerous, or other. Meanwhile, those who inflict harm from within—benefiting from the very systems they betray—escape scrutiny. Wrongdoing and corruption are rarely imagined as traits of a white man, because to acknowledge this would require dismantling the systems that uphold white dominance.
Luigi’s story forces a reckoning, not just for his peers but for anyone who has accepted these narratives without question. It compels us to ask: How much of our understanding of loyalty, danger, and power is shaped by stories designed to uphold supremacy? It reminded me of this line from Heath Ledger’s Joker in The Dark Knight:
"You know what I’ve noticed?
Nobody panics when things go 'according to plan' even if the plan is horrifying. If, tomorrow, I tell the press that a gangbanger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics, because it’s all 'part of the plan.' But when I say that one little old mayor will die, well then everyone loses their minds! ... Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I’m an agent of chaos.
And you know the thing about chaos? It’s fair!"
This line encapsulates the essence of the conversation. Society is conditioned to accept violence, corruption, and betrayal as long as they follow the expected script. The Joker’s observation highlights the unsettling truth that we are complicit in horrors as long as they maintain the status quo.
When Luigi Mangione’s betrayal emerges, it disrupts the "plan." It violates the unspoken rule that villains exist on the fringes, not within spaces of power and privilege. His actions are no more shocking than the injustices we see globally—but they spark outrage because he doesn’t fit the mold.
The Joker’s monologue underscores the hypocrisy in this dynamic. If a marginalized person—a "gangbanger"—commits a crime, it aligns with the accepted narrative. But when someone from the dominant class—a politician, corporate leader, or someone like Luigi—steps out of line, disbelief ensues.
"You know the thing about chaos? It’s fair." Chaos strips away the facade, forcing society to confront uncomfortable truths: power does not make someone morally superior, and betrayal isn’t reserved for those outside whiteness, wealth, or status.
Luigi Mangione becomes an agent of chaos—not by seeking fairness, but by exposing the fragility of the "established order." His betrayal reveals that the systems his peers trust are not as impenetrable as they believed.
The discomfort sparked by figures like Luigi—or the Joker—is less about their acts and more about the realization that social class, whiteness, or status cannot insulate against harm.
Explores how the West has historically framed Eastern cultures as "other," creating narratives that justify colonialism and reinforce power hierarchies. Said’s work dives deep into the mechanisms of "othering" that parallel how villains are crafted in society.
The reason Luigi Mangione faces terrorism charges while school shooters—predominantly young white men—do not reflects the same societal conditioning the Joker describes. As long as violence aligns with the "plan," no one panics. But when the established order is disrupted, the full weight of the law comes crashing down.
In the U.S. and Western societies, mass shootings are common, yet the perpetrators are often framed as "troubled" rather than terrorists. This is by design. The dominant narrative dictates that terrorism must be foreign, Black, brown, or Muslim. Luigi Mangione’s case disrupts this carefully maintained order. His betrayal cannot be dismissed as an anomaly. They have to make him an example, charging him with terrorism reveals the panic that ensues when the threat emerges from within the protected class.
Luigi’s charged as a terrorist is a warning: stray from the plan, and you will be stripped of privilege and punished. His potential death penalty evokes the memory of Peter Norman, the Australian silver medalist who stood in solidarity with Tommie Smith and John Carlos during the Olympics. Norman was ostracized for breaking the script of whiteness he was banned from playing in his home country and so at the olympics ever again.
The more the media and dominant class attempt to frame Luigi Mangione as a terrorist, the more he risks becoming a martyr—a hero to the middle and working class. This unintended consequence exposes the fragility of the very systems trying to contain him. By casting him as the ultimate villain, they inadvertently fuel his transformation into a symbol of defiance for those who feel betrayed by the same institutions.
1. "The New Jim Crow" by Michelle Alexander
Examines how systemic racism and mass incarceration perpetuate a racial caste system in the United States.
2. "Orientalism" by Edward Said
Explores how the West has historically framed Eastern cultures as "other," creating narratives that justify colonialism and reinforce power hierarchies.
3. "The Wretched of the Earth" by Frantz Fanon
A powerful examination of colonization, Fanon dissects how violence and systemic oppression create divisions between the colonizers and the colonized, drawing parallels to class and racial divides.
4. "White Fragility" by Robin DiAngelo
This book unpacks why it is difficult for white people to talk about racism and how this defensiveness sustains inequality.
5. "They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us" by Hanif Abdurraqib
A collection of essays on race, culture, and music that touches on themes of systemic violence, public empathy, and how society selectively mourns certain lives over others.
6. "Native Son" by Richard Wright
A classic that delves into the systemic forces shaping the life of Bigger Thomas, the novel explores how societal oppression molds Bigger into the "villain" that white society expects him to be.
