The murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson represented a horrific and indefensible act of violence. His family deserves our deepest sympathy.
As a physician and healthcare leader, I initially declined to comment on the killing. I felt that speculating about the shooter’s intent would only sensationalize a terrible act.
Regardless of the circumstances, vigilante violence has no place in a free and just society.
But now, more than a month later, I feel compelled to address one aspect of the story that has been widely misunderstood: the public’s reaction to the news of Thompson’s murder. Specifically, why tens of thousands of individuals “liked” and “laughed” at a post on Facebook announcing the CEO’s death.
What causes someone to ‘like’ murder?
News analysts have attributed the social media response to America’s “ simmering anger ” and “ frustration ” with a broken healthcare system, pointing to rising medical costs, insurance red tape, and time-consuming prior authorization requirements as justifications.
These are all, indeed, problems and may explain some of the public's reactions. Yet these descriptions grossly understate the lived reality for most of those affected. When I speak with individuals who have lost a child, parent, or spouse because of what they perceive as an unresponsive and uncaring system, their pain is raw and intense. What they feel isn’t frustration—it’s agony.
By framing healthcare’s failures in terms of statistical measures and policy snafus, we reduce a deeply personal crisis to an intellectual exercise. And it’s this very detached, cognitive approach that has allowed our nation to disregard the emotional devastation endured by millions of patients and their families.
When journalists, healthcare leaders, and policymakers cite eye-popping statistics on healthcare expenditures, highlight exorbitant insurer profits, or deride the bloated salaries of executives, they leave out a vital part of the story. They omit the unbearable human suffering behind the numbers. And I fear that until we approach healthcare as a moral crisis—not merely an economic or political puzzle to solve—our nation will never act with the urgency required to relieve people’s profound pain.
A pain beyond reason
In Dante’s Inferno, hell is a place where suffering is eternal and the cries of the damned go unheard. For countless Americans who feel trapped in our healthcare system, that metaphor rings true. Their anguish and pleas for mercy are met with silence.
It is this sense of abandonment and powerlessness, not mere frustration, that fuels both a desperate rage and anger at a system and its leaders who appear not to care. The response isn’t one of glee—it’s a visceral reaction born of pain and unrelenting remorse.
As a clinician, I’ve seen life-destroying pain in my patients—and even within my own family. When my cousin Alan died in his twenties from a then-incuurable cancer, my aunt and uncle were powerless to save him. Their grief was profound, unrelenting, and eternal. They never recovered from the loss. But Alan’s death, heartbreaking as it was, stemmed from the limits of science at the time.
What millions of Americans endure today is different. Their loved ones die not because cures don’t exist but because the healthcare system treats them like a number. Bureaucratic inefficiencies, profit-driven delays, and systemic indifference produce avoidable tragedies.
To appreciate this depth of pain, imagine standing behind a chain-link fence, watching someone you love being tortured. You scream and plead for help, but no one listens. That is what healthcare feels like for too many Americans. And until all of us acknowledge and feel their pain, little will improve.
Curing America’s indifference
When we focus solely on cold numbers—the millions who’ve lost Medicaid coverage, the hundreds of thousands of avoidable deaths each year, or the life-expectancy gap between the U.S. and other nations—we strip healthcare of its humanity.
But once we stop framing these failures as bureaucratic inefficiencies or frustrations and, instead, focus on the devastation of having to watch a loved one suffer and die needlessly, we are forced to confront a moral imperative. Either we must act with urgency and resolve the problem or admit we simply don’t care.
In the halls of Congress, lawmakers continue to weigh modest reforms to prior authorization requirements and Medicaid spending—baby steps that won’t fix a system in crisis. The truth is that without bold, transformative action, healthcare will remain unaffordable and inaccessible for millions of families whose anguish will grow. Here are three examples of the scale of transformation required:
- Reverse the obesity epidemic with a two-part strategy. Congress must tax ultra-processed, sugary foods that drive hundreds of billions of dollars in healthcare costs yearly. In parallel, lawmakers should cap the manufacturer-set price of weight-loss medications like Ozempic and Wegovy to be no higher than in peer nations.
- Change clinician payments from volume to value. Current fee-for-service payment systems incentivize unnecessary tests, treatments, and procedures rather than better health outcomes. Transitioning to pay-for-value would reward healthcare providers, specifically primary care physicians, who successfully prevent chronic diseases, better manage existing conditions, and reduce complications such as heart attacks, strokes, and kidney failure.
- Empower patients and save lives with generative AI. Tools like ChatGPT can help reduce the staggering 400,000 annual deaths from misdiagnoses and 250,000 more from preventable medical errors. Integrating AI into healthcare enables at-home care, continuous disease monitoring, and personalized treatment, making medical care safer, more accessible, and more efficient.
If elected officials, payers, and regulators fail to act, they will have chosen to perpetuate the unbearable pain and suffering patients and families endure daily. They need to hear people's cries. The time for transformative action is now.
Robert Pearl, the author of “ ChatGPT, MD,” teaches at both the Stanford University School of Medicine and the Stanford Graduate School of Business. He is a former CEO of The Permanente Medical Group.




















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.