THE STORY OF A MURDERER THAT NEVER KILLED ANYONE

THE STORY OF A MURDERER THAT NEVER KILLED ANYONE
All the ways we’ve tried to fit Charles Manson into a convenient narrative
Satan.
Sociopath. Psychopath. Narcissist. Eco-warrior. Opportunist.
Manipulator. White supremacist. Misogynist. Executioner of hippie
culture. Embodiment of evil.
These are just some of the ways Charles
Manson, the notorious 1960s killer and cult leader, has been described
in the countless obituaries published since his death at 83 on Nov. 19.
Manson
died unrepentant and incorrigible, and his passing will likely
intensify America’s decades-long fascination with its most famous mass
killing. But while the Manson murders have many irresistible
elements—drugs, sex, celebrity, brainwashing—a big part of Manson’s
undying legacy is the versatility of his own story. He is
whatever you want him to be; he defies many narratives, and yet fits so
many. In fact, no one put it better than the man himself (with a healthy
dose of his signature manipulation): ”I am just a mirror,” Manson said
several times in a 1970 interview with Rolling Stone. “Anything you see in me is you.”
Evil or human?
“The
name Manson has become a metaphor for evil, and there’s a side of human
nature that’s fascinated by pure unalloyed evil,” Vincent Bugliosi once
said. Bugliosi, the prosecutor on Manson’s case, authored the
definitive account of the murders, 1974’s Helter Skelter.
The Associated Press obituary of Manson
features the word “evil” three times, including one description of
Manson’s image as the “personification of evil.” Linda Kasabian, one of
Manson’s disciples and the prosecution’s star witness, also famously
called Manson “the devil” in her testimony. Understandable, considering
he managed to conjure a murderous frenzy in his followers that left an
8.5-month pregnant woman dead of 16 stab wounds.
Others
see Manson as more of a product of his circumstances: a tragic
childhood, a neglectful teen mother, relatives who tortured him, and a
juvenile-detention system that spat him out abused. “Manson, though, was
no devil but a human being, as his death makes clear,” David A. Ulin
writes at The Los Angeles Times. ”I
don’t say that to soften or absolve him. But I don’t believe in demons;
people are frightening enough. Indeed, to accept Manson as a person, to
see him through the filter of his humanity, is to acknowledge what we
resist: that he was perhaps not so utterly different from the rest of
us.”
A product of a culture—and its executioner
Personal
biography aside, Manson is also widely seen as a product of his era. He
wore his hair long, was obsessed with The Beatles, and hung out with
one of the Beach Boys. Manson’s disciples were drifters who started a
commune, where drugs flowed freely and sex was unconstrained. “For many,
the Manson episode validated their fears of the counterculture
movement,” writes David Smith,
a physician who treated the Manson family, in the Washington Post.
Smith says San Francisco’s “Summer of Love” and embrace of drugs wrought
Manson.
But Manson also took advantage of that
culture, perverting it to suit his ideas—perhaps this is why he’s also
credited with killing the era he came out of. As Joan Didion wrote in
her essay “The White Album,” no one was surprised after hearing the news
of the murders. “The tension broke that day,” she wrote. “The paranoia
was fulfilled.”
Eco-warrior and white supremacist
Manson
obits from both sides of the political spectrum proffered still more
narratives—that of a leftwing nut job, and that of a white supremacist.
Infowars reminded
the world that Manson “embraced environmentalism as a justification for
his insane actions” and claimed that his preachings about annihilating
humanity for the sake of the natural world have been “adopted by the
far-left.” (It’s true that Manson spoke about his climate change beliefs
several times. In 2011, he even gave an interview to the Spanish edition of Vanity Fair, in which he warned of melting polar caps.)
Breitbart devoted a whole section of its obituary
to Manson’s connection with militant leftist group The Weather
Underground, and Geraldo Rivera, who conducted an “epic” (his word)
interview with Manson in 1988, wrote that
Manson was “more popular than Che or Mao….a charismatic snake charmer,
an articulate, eco-friendly homicidal maniac who was part Jim Jones and
part Adolf Hitler.”
Meanwhile, multiple mainstream, left-leaning or minority-focused publications zeroed in on another, opposing interpretation of Manson’s politics: He was a white supremacist who wanted to wage a race war.
“Mr. Manson was not the end point of the counterculture,” Baynard Woods writes at The New York Times (paywall).
“If anything, he was a backlash against the civil rights movement and a
harbinger of white supremacist race warriors like Dylann Roof, the
lunatic fringe of the alt-right.”
These
narratives often seem to be mutually exclusive, but Manson is a
universal villain: Suggestions that Manson was embraced by some members
of the counterculture are not without merit, nor are assertions that he used race to sow conflict.
America’s patient and entertainer
Described
as everything from “wild-eyed” to demonic, Manson seems to demand
psychological diagnosis. After all, a “crazy” murderer is more
comforting than one who is a rational actor, opportunist, and master
manipulator. (Or, as Vox put it,
“an average narcissist who practiced social engineering and learned to
use the bodies of willing women around him as a bargaining tool.”) In
this way, Manson helped usher in an era of fascination with true crime
and serial killers, psychoanalysis of whom still provides endless entertainment.
In
2012, Gawker’s Rich Juzwiak even suggested that Manson’s entertainment
value could be seen as a redeeming quality. “The world would have been a
better place without Manson,” he wrote,
“but since he had to exist, his roles as the nutjob to end all nutjobs
can be read as something like compensation.” Juzwiak called Manson a
“very contemporary celebrity.”
Indeed, our
continuing fascination with Manson, whose list of victims is much
shorter than most mass killers today, is perhaps most enabled by our
cultural obsession with celebrity. “Reality TV and general cultural
narcissism have conditioned us to appreciate characters (especially
villains) and, man, is that guy a character,” Juzwiak wrote. Or as
Manson himself said: “You’re creating a legend, you’re creating a beast,
you’re creating whatever you are judging yourselves with into the word
Manson.”

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