UHC killer not a hero.
Effective civil disobedience need not involve murder.
There’s a dangerous false dichotomy brewing in how we talk about resistance. It goes like this: either you fight for justice through “legitimate” channels—protests, diplomacy, and petitions—or you cross the line into violence, taking matters into your own hands in ways that leave blood on the floor. Most people don’t endorse murder, but the applause it gets when it’s cloaked in a narrative of righteous vengeance should give us pause.
The problem? This framing pretends there’s no middle ground. No room for the kind of resistance that is bold, disruptive, and even illegal—but stops short of the irreversible, the barbaric, the unforgivable.
Think about your favorite heroes. Batman, Spider-Man, Daredevil—they don’t kill. That’s not just a quirk of their morality. It’s part of what makes them resonate. Deep down, we want heroes who can fight back and win, but who don’t lose their humanity in the process. They remind us we don’t have to destroy the line between right and wrong to make a difference.
So why are we so quick to accept that in real life, the choice is only between doing nothing or spilling blood? Probably due to a lot of desperation. But is a tragic antihero who kills (like, say, Rorschach) the only remaining option? I don’t think so.
The Binary Thinking Trap
This binary thinking has roots in frustration. Protests often feel toothless; diplomacy feels rigged; systems protect those they’re supposed to hold accountable. And when the pendulum swings too far in one direction—when those in power operate with impunity—the pendulum of resistance swings hard in the other. People celebrate acts of destruction because they see them as the only way to make a point.
But here’s the thing: celebrating murder, even as symbolic justice, creates more problems than it solves. It erodes moral authority, feeds into cycles of violence, and ensures the “hero” of the story becomes just another tragic figure who crossed the line.
What’s missing is the middle ground—the kind of resistance that feels just as powerful and daring but doesn’t drag us into the abyss.
The Path Heroes Show Us
If we take a cue from our favorite heroes, there’s another way: resistance that’s daring, illegal, even theatrical—but not fatal. Think about how Spider-Man or Batman handle corruption. They expose it, ridicule it, disrupt it—but they don’t erase people as a first line of offense. They find ways to humiliate their enemies, to make them symbols of their own wrongdoing, without becoming villains themselves.
What could this look like in real life? Imagine the UHC killer—who many online have praised—taking a different path. Instead of pulling the trigger, what if they had stormed a gala in a ridiculous costume, marked the corrupt executive with glow-in-the-dark paint, and left a note saying, “This washes off. The stain of your greed does not.” (Maybe that idea sucks, but I’m not claiming to be a hero with the skill of an assassin and the talent of a Banksy. I’m just hoping someone out there fits that description.)
Illegal? Absolutely. Effective? It would make the same headlines and spark the same conversations—without bloodshed.
Theatrics work. Symbolism works. And they don’t require crossing the line into irreversible violence.
Why the Middle Ground Matters
The middle ground isn’t just a compromise. It’s where most people’s values actually live. We want to see change. We want to see power held accountable. But most of us, deep down, don’t want to lose the moral high ground. We want justice, not vengeance. We want someone to look up to, someone who can solve the issue without becoming the monster.
The problem is, this middle ground gets lost in public discourse. Online, we default to extremes: either protests and petitions (which feel too weak) or outright destruction (which feels too final). The middle gets ignored because it’s harder to define and less emotionally charged. But if we ignore it, we lose the chance to inspire change without compounding harm.
The Challenge
The real challenge is reintroducing the middle ground into the conversation. This isn’t just about hypotheticals; it’s about shifting cultural narratives. The next time we see an act of violence praised as justice, we should ask: What would this look like if it were bold, theatrical, and impactful—but stopped short of harm?
Our favorite heroes already show us it’s possible. We just need to demand more from our narratives—and ourselves.
In closing, I refer to the great Silver Surfer, who once said: “Where I tread, I leave no footprints—only the memory of my passage. I bring no death, only reflection.”
This is the essence of the middle ground. Confront injustice boldly, leave an indelible mark on the world, but don’t lose our humanity. Don’t throw away hope for redemption.
The system is broken. We need a new kind of hero that plays by different rules.
Instead of applauding or condoning or even trivializing vigilante murder, demand more from our heroes. Challenge the bad guys without leaving behind irreversible destruction. Have fun with it.
If that doesn’t work, then, and only then, will I approve of a Rorschach approach.