Citizen Vigilante and the Timeless Revenge Story

The revenge genre has a new addition. And no, I’m not referring to Jens Ganman’s latest books, although they fit the mold as well. I’m talking about the film Citizen Vigilante.

My feed on X has been flooded with screenshots, quotes, and analyses of the film—some thoughtful, others less so. I understand why it stands out. And it’s not because the protagonist confronts, beats, and kills criminals, rapists, or even the judge who lets them walk free. We’ve seen that before. What makes this film different is that the criminals are non-Europeans.

In that sense, the film reflects the reality many people in Europe and the broader West feel they are living through. Unlike many other films and television series, where perpetrators and victims are portrayed in ways that many viewers feel are the opposite of the world they experience around them.

Citizen Vigilante has also arrived at the right moment. There is a growing sense of anger simmering beneath the surface in parts of the population. After murders and violent attacks in France, England, and Northern Ireland, and after an endless stream of videos showing immigrants across Europe behaving aggressively and antisocially, frustration has reached a boiling point. When you’re angry, exhausted, and feel like you’re about to break, what could be more appealing than watching a film in which someone does exactly what, deep down, you feel ought to be done?

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Books, films, and television series built around the theme of revenge have a long history. In my view, the modern revenge story begins with Heinrich von Kleist’s Michael Kohlhaas, published in the early nineteenth century. Much later came the Death Wish films of the 1970s, Falling Down (1993), and Law Abiding Citizen (2009).

Within nationalist political circles, there is also an abundance of novels built around the same theme. William Pierce’s Hunter and Michael A. Hoffman II’s A Candidate for the Order are among the better known.

There is nothing inherently remarkable about these stories.

There is nothing about revenge narratives that makes them inherently more problematic than other stories centered on violence. They do not necessarily reveal more about a subculture than gangster films reveal about their audiences, or rape-revenge films reveal about the women who enjoy them.

The research on the subject is far from conclusive. Some scholars argue that revenge stories function as a safety valve, allowing audiences to release their emotions and move on. Others believe they can make viewers more likely to dwell on conflict and, in some cases, act upon it.

In my book Den sista galgen (The Last Gallows), I develop the argument that Western civilization has, over the course of centuries, gradually selected against certain patterns of behavior. One consequence is that Europeans, compared with many other peoples, are considerably less inclined to resort to violence.

Because the overwhelming majority of Europeans are restrained and law-abiding rather than prone to violence, I believe the first interpretation applies to Citizen Vigilante. The proportion of people who move from words to action is exceedingly small. For that reason, we should also be cautious about attributing decisive significance to any single film.

Anyone who believes that Citizen Vigilante will trigger a wave of lone vigilantes—regardless of which side of the broader civilizational struggle they happen to be on—is mistaken. If reality itself cannot persuade majorities to rally behind radical political alternatives, it is highly unlikely that a film will persuade them to take the far more extreme step of engaging in physical violence.

Is there a hidden agenda behind the film? Many people think so. The left-liberal establishment argues that it is an attempt to promote violence, hatred, and racism. At the same time, the more imaginative and slogan-driven radicals on the other side hope that, for once, the left-liberals are right.

Others worry that the counter-jihad movement is once again acting in lockstep with Zionist interests, promoting the film in order to encourage angry young Europeans to become more violent toward Muslims. Still others believe the entire project is simply intended to destabilize Europe, making Russia, China, or the United States the most likely beneficiaries.

I prefer the straightforward explanation offered by Occam’s razor: the driving forces are money and the pursuit of attention. There is a great deal of money to be made from the turmoil unfolding in Europe and the United States. When a civilization begins to crack, opportunists can strike gold. And in the process, they often get far more than their fifteen minutes of fame. It is entirely possible that some of those involved also see the film as a way of advancing personal causes they happen to believe in, but that does not alter my conclusion.

Above all, Citizen Vigilante is a product of its time. It did not create the frustration that so many people feel. It captured that frustration, packaged it, and sold it.

Sometimes a film is just a film, even when it stands out. And sometimes a film is a sign that the times have changed far more than the film itself ever will.

For the nationalist opposition, the lesson is simple: it is possible to create works that resonate with people without the backing of the established cultural industry.