Why Are Platforms Erasing Luigi Mangione’s Social Media History? An Interview with Ken Klippenstein
The arrest of Luigi Mangione, the suspect in the fatal shooting of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson, has set the Internet ablaze. Commentary ranges from the celebratory to condemning to outright comedic. People have rushed to follow and conduct deep dives of Mangione’s online accounts. Scouring through the tea-leaf feeds of Instagram, LinkedIn, and even Goodreads. As a Gen-Zer, Mangione’s digital footprint offers a compelling look into his upbringing, education, cultural influences, ideologies, and motivations.
Yet soon after Mangione’s arrest, YouTube removed three channels belonging to him. At the time of this writing, his Instagram and Facebook accounts have been taken down as well (although now there are copycat accounts being run as “fan pages”).
Because the First Amendment only constrains state censorship, social media companies can decide for themselves what content can be circulated on their platforms. There is no ‘Poster’s Bill of Rights.’ Companies can write wide-spanning provisions that even reach offline activities. YouTube is one example: they likely relied on their “creator responsibility” terms that prohibit malicious or violent “on- and/or off-platform behavior.” But law aside, is suppressing information about him online beneficial to the public as a matter of policy?
How Are Killers Created?
After arresting Mangione, police say they found a handwritten document that reportedly expressed “ill will” towards corporate America. To date, no media outlets have published what has been referred to as Mangione’s manifesto. This has not always been the case – for example, the 2014 shooter who killed six people in Santa Barbara uploaded a video manifesto online regarding his hatred of women. The video was largely circulated and quoted by news outlets (like on NBC and PBS). For Mangione, however, it’s all hush-hush. Only one independent journalist, Ken Klippenstein, uploaded it in its entirety, while noting the media's “unhealthy … drift away from public disclosure.” It doesn’t seem clear that the likability of a criminal suspect should dictate how much the public should be able to learn about them.
Social media platforms aren’t the same as news outlets because their content is user-generated and curated to each user’s data-based preferences. Online platforms don’t exercise editorial judgment in personalized content feeds in the same way news platforms curate how/what stories are published for all. At the same time, social media is where most people get at least part of their daily news. So although social media platforms don’t historically have the same editorial expectations as the traditional press, the collision of content creation and news merits reassessing transparency norms.
Because when agenda-driven violence occurs, one of the first places we look is social media. It’s common to trace the digital tracks of school shooters, for example. Analyzing the suspect’s online presence is a typical way for investigators and the general public to understand the cultural, economic, and (increasingly) political determinants of crime. But accounts of suspects don’t always get removed right away — so why did YouTube and Meta move so quickly on Mangione’s?
It seems like all of the media right now is attempting to strike a balance in furthering public discussion of Mangione’s arrest without glorifying violence. Unlike many other high-profile shootings, where the victims garner immense sympathy, there is tremendous hostility against Thompson and the institution he represents. Mangione has been held up online as a hero (and even a hottie) taking a stand against America’s healthcare system. There is merch on Etsy in time for the holidays.
In the midst of this wild popularity storm, online platforms and the press are making choices that limit the exacerbation of Mangione’s fandom to prevent copycats. Some in the media are even backing off showing his face. But if the goal is to prevent fame-seekers or sympathizers from glorifying him, it’s too late. Disabling accounts does not change that the nation is fixated on Mangione. Even before he was identified, his circulated surveillance photo became iconic enough to prompt a lookalike contest.
Secrecy is Not Safety
Reached by phone, Ken Klippenstein tells Slandertown why he felt justified publishing the manifesto: “There’s a lot of pretext about safety, and all this hand wringing about copycat attacks. But resonance from the public is not about the violent act. What it seems to inspire is people talking more openly about the damage the healthcare system has done to them. This case is unusually insightful because his manifesto is describing our healthcare system in a substantive way. This is not something that’s only interesting to a true crime person. It's something of great political importance.”
Klippenstein also emphasized the press’s role ensuring that information handled by law enforcement doesn’t suppress or misrepresent important context. “Law enforcement prefers to put a certain narrative out there rather than letting people encounter Mangione’s writings about social issues. It’s not their job to address the underlying problems – that’s the media’s domain.” When the press mediates or shields information in sync with law enforcement, what we ultimately lose is public access to information without any proven enhancements to safety. And while social media is not beholden to journalistic principles of truth-seeking, it does hold a trove of information for the people to engage with for independent inquiry and investigation.
The media is leaning away from transparency in an era where digital footprints are more critical than era to understanding the path of radicalization. The public deserves transparency. What dark corners of the internet nurture violence? Sacrificing transparency without explanation leaves the public less informed - and less safe.
