Unpopular opinion: we shouldn’t be hating on Martin Shkreli.
By now, you’ve probably heard of the guy christened the most-hated man in America, the CEO of Turing Pharmaceuticals who made headlines overnight last September hiking up the price of a life-saving Daraprim pill from $13.50 to a stunning $750. Shkreli, quickly becoming both a household name and paragon of free-market capitalism, has cited the tremendous price jump as a necessary turn for Turing Pharmaceuticals to make bank. Critics of Shkreli (read: nearly everyone) are outraged by the lack of empathy expressed in this corporate strategy, a coup so conniving its motives seem to only enrich himself. Public outrage has escalated alongside the 5,000 percent price increase of the drug, outpouring a basin of anger toward the designated public villain:
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Checkpoint: Hating Martin Shkreli yet?
The madness continues. Outrage has only continued to escalate over Shkreli since the millionaire has shown no signs of remorse over his actions. A recent viral video shows a House Oversight Committee hearing in which Shkreli responds to the demands by callously smirking, averting eye contact with the judge, and exercising mishandled levity over the integrity of the situation.
Turing's Daraprim works to fight the Toxoplasma parasite, a disease that affects compromised immune systems, especially those weakened by AIDS or chemotherapy. With much of the affected population also affected by poverty, a catastrophic price increase not only alters lives, but cuts them short. Shkreli's infamy only seems to rise with the increased spectacle of his indifference. His behavior, fronted by his (now former) company, has ensnared the public eye.
Or, is it possible that his company's behavior has been fronted by Shkreli? Social media has spun the Shkreli situation as a tale of human morality. How could a person act so phlegmatically cruel and seemingly without guilt? How could one man be so greedy at the expense of millions of lives? The emotional poignancy that has carved Shkreli into a household name requires the deduction of Shkreli into a single, human life.
But, as Schrodinger's cat is both dead and alive, Martin Shkreli is the culmination of both the arbitrary free choices of a man and the exact, calculated system of the Pharmaceutical Industry. To fully humanize Shkreli is to deny the very systems that perpetuate cycles of poverty and surrender lives to HIV/AIDS.
Shkreli is not the only man or company forced to raise prices, but has perhaps he has gained international attention by tacking a human face to a Trojan horse (scary enough) in order to further obscure the nuanced, global infrastructure that upholds systems of structural violence. The global infrastructure is upheld independent of Shkreli's choices and despite his impact on millions of Daraprim users.
Unpopular opinion: we shouldn’t be hating on Martin Shkreli. Here's why:
1. Behaviors and Choices Should Not Negate Universal Human Rights
HIV/AIDS, as we know, disproportionately affects impoverished populations, and increasingly, impoverished women worldwide. Paul Farmer, Margaret Coates, and Janie Simmons, authors of Women, Poverty, and Aids, work to destabilize the pervading stereotype that HIV/AIDS affects only certain sectors of the global population. To combat the stigma, the researchers highlight narratives that negate the belief that HIV/AIDS is the consequence of poor choices, and such is the story of Mildred, a 29-year-old preacher's daughter. Mildred does not engage in injection drug use or sex work, but contracts HIV through her husband's absconded heroin addiction. The researchers hope to shed light that even the Mildreds of the world, innocent as-they-come and ensconced in "puppy love," are not protected from the HIV/AIDS pandemic, especially when viewed through the prism of poverty. Mildred's story serves to vindicate HIV/AIDS as a human rights issue, and not just moral quagmire.
Or does it? Instead, does elevating Mildred's story actually create a moral hierarchy for women? I argue that stories like Mildred's only serve to disparage the realities of other women and to further advance choice politics, arguing the public should only care about HIV/AIDS because it also affects women who do not engage in drug use or sex work. In this way, Mildred's story only further shames other women for the individual choices they make.
Or does it? Instead, does elevating Mildred's story actually create a moral hierarchy for women? I argue that stories like Mildred's only serve to disparage the realities of other women and to further advance choice politics, arguing the public should only care about HIV/AIDS because it also affects women who do not engage in drug use or sex work. In this way, Mildred's story only further shames other women for the individual choices they make.
HIV/AIDS, the researchers conclude, is not a nexus of individual choices, but a product of the structural violence maintained through neoliberalism and structures of power. HIV/AIDS is a human rights issue, and should be prioritized independent of individual behavior.
So what does that mean for Shkreli? To fully humanize Shkreli is to elevate the consequences of individual choices and further obfuscate the monolith of structural violence. To hate a man so viscerally, to ask how could one man be so greedy at the expense of millions of lives, is to deny the full extent of systemic violence.
The moral problem is not that one individual made a dastardly choice at the disposal of millions of lives.
So what does that mean for Shkreli? To fully humanize Shkreli is to elevate the consequences of individual choices and further obfuscate the monolith of structural violence. To hate a man so viscerally, to ask how could one man be so greedy at the expense of millions of lives, is to deny the full extent of systemic violence.
The moral problem is not that one individual made a dastardly choice at the disposal of millions of lives.
The moral problem is that a one individual was able to.
2. Is it Possible to Have the Same Moral Standards for People Who Are Disempowered as for People In Power?
Ending the HIV/AIDS pandemic is not as simple, as USAID may suggest, as giving women access to female condoms. While the prevention of HIV/AIDS can be facilitated through female condom use, the structural violence that surrenders impoverished women to the disease also facilitates social obstacles that complicate the use of condoms, independent of any access to resources. At-risk women may be stuck in compromising situations where sex may not be a negotiation between partners, and while condom use may provide biological safety, it may also expedite interpersonal danger. Efforts to educate and empower women often emphasize an individual path out of poverty and disease for those who muster up enough motivation.
But poverty does not end with single cases of empowerment. Nor does it thrive on single cases of power.
To fully humanize Martin Shkreli is to blame the singularity of his actions. To blame only Shkreli for his "individual" actions creates a parallel framework where women should also be accountable for theirs, without considering the broader context. The target of our hatred and our anger and our energy should transcend the individual actions of Shkreli. Our combined energy should disclose the systems and the millions of amounting choices that have positioned Shkreli at such a wide apex of power.
Want to fight the system? Illuminate the system.
3. We Can Allocate Our Emotional Resources More Effectively
Ah, twitter, a necropolis of energy and time. The heart of the Shkreli story feeds on a lack of human empathy from a man in a position of great power. The negation of empathy is a fine public spectacle. And perhaps there is some fulfilling, cathartic release in spending large amounts of hate on Shkreli. Or perhaps it is empty, and there is no catharsis.
Hate takes up so much energy. Fight the urge to succumb to spectacle. Instead, I say, pay the empathy forward to someone who needs it. Or go read a book!
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