Review
Art
Culture
Ethics
War & peace
5 min read

Can we stop killing each other?

How art, theology, and moral imagination confront our oldest instinct

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

A 17th Century painting of Moses and the brazen cross.
Luca Giordano, The Brazen Serpent, c.1690, oil on canvas.
Compton Verney, photography by Jamie Woodley.

What more important question can there be for humanity, Jago Cooper, Executive Director of the Sainsbury Centre, asks than ‘Can we stop killing each other?’ The Sainsbury Centre’s radical exhibition programme explores the big issues in contemporary society (see my article ‘Life Is more important than art’) so has rapidly arrived at the point where it is exploring what has wrong with the world when killing occurs and how can we put it right. 

Cooper sets out the ground that this series of exhibitions seeks to cover: ‘From interpersonal violence to state level conflict, killing has spread its devastating impact throughout all human cultures across the centuries. Why does this violence occur? And can it be better prevented at a time when increased societal pressures of population growth, resource scarcity, human migration and rapid environmental change make the risk of conflict higher? Every day we read about horrifying acts playing out locally and internationally, but what is the answer to stopping them?’ 

Can we stop killing each other? includes an installation by Aotearoa/New Zealand artist Anton Forde, a series of new paintings reflecting on the refugee crisis by Ethiopian artist Tesfaye Urgessa; presentations of historical artworks such as Claude Monet’s ‘The Petit Bras of the Seine at Argenteuil’, and an exhibition spanning Shakespearean tragedy to Hitchcockian spectacle, which asks questions of violent stage and screen narratives, plus (from November) ‘Seeds of Hate and Hope’ highlighting personal artistic responses to global atrocities, such as genocides, ethnic cleansing, war crimes and crimes against humanity.  

It starts, however, with a room displaying Biblically themed explorations of this question. ‘Denunciation of Cain’ by G.F. Watts depicts the after-effects of the first murder with Watts viewing Cain as a symbol of ‘reckless, selfish humanity’. A pair of paintings by Luca Giordano then take us deeper into the ambiguities of our human responses to anger and violence. ‘The Brazen Serpent’, tells the story of the Israelites’ journey from Mount Sinai in Egypt to the Promised Land of Canaan. On this journey, a plague of poisonous serpents punishes the Israelites for their disobedience and lack of faith. Moses is instructed by God to make a bronze, or ‘brazen’, serpent that will heal those that repent. The curators ask, ‘Does this portrayal of killing as a punishment set a cultural precedent, or establish a moral code for right and wrong?’ Alongside is ‘The Judgement of Solomon’ in which two women both claim to be the mother of a living child and where the true mother is revealed by means of an order that the child to be cut in half with a sword and shared. The true mother reveals herself as the one who will give the baby away to protect the child’s life. Here, the threat of violence is used to bring about justice.  

William Hogarth’s print series The Four Stages of Cruelty, with verses by Reverend James Townley, reveals how violence escalates and shows how a lack of moral supervision can lead to a life of crime. Finally, Matt Collishaw’s series of thirteen photographic works entitled ’Last Meal on Death Row, Texas’ alludes to the number of apostles at the Last Supper while depicting the last meals chosen by condemned prisoners on death row in the state of Texas, United States. 

The curators suggest that: ‘The artworks in this gallery, and beyond, suggest that there is a choice between peace and conflict and that moral stories exist to guide us towards making ethical decisions in real life. Art provides a powerful connection through which to experience life at its most chaotic and incomprehensible, enabling us to pause and reflect on the darkest aspects of human existence. It can also create vital opportunities for society to mourn and remember victims of violence, and to come together in acts of healing and repair.’  

These images and the Bible stories on which they are based give us more than simple moral guidance, however. They also provide an explanation for the existence of conflict between human beings and reveal God’s subversion of that ingrained human tendency. 

In the story of Cain and Abel, Cain is jealous of Abel and kills him as a result. The anthropologist René Girard suggests that this story reveals the way in which we consistently act as human beings. We desire something that is possessed by someone else and become disturbed through our longing for what we don’t have. We resolve our disturbance by creating a scapegoat of the person or people who appear to have or prevent us from having what it is we desire. When the scapegoat is killed, we can gain what we desire and also release the sense of disturbance that we feel.  

This scapegoat mechanism becomes expressed in religions involving human sacrifices as scapegoats to appease their gods. In the story told within the pages of scripture, it is out of such religions that Abraham is called to form a people who do not sacrifice other human beings, but instead use animals as their scapegoats and sacrifices. Jesus is later born into this people who have subverted the existing practice of scapegoating and he further subverts this practice because, as he is crucified, God becomes the scapegoat that is killed. Once God’s Son has become the scapegoat, for those who follow him, the scapegoat mechanism is undermined and the scapegoating of others should no longer be possible. 

In ‘The Judgement of Solomon’, the threat of violence is used to reveal the desire of the woman who had taken the mother’s child and the self-sacrifice of the true mother. On the cross, the violence meted out to Jesus reveals the full horror of the scapegoating mechanism in the torture and violent death of the wholly innocent one.   

Jesus explicitly equated his crucifixion with the raising up of the bronze serpent that brought healing because in that story, when it is raised, as Jesus also was, the image of the source of the poison in the lives of human beings became the source of healing. That is also the promise that Christianity holds out to us in relation to the effect of Jesus’ crucifixion where he becomes sin for us. It heals us of our absolute need to scapegoat and harm others. 

 

Can We Stop Killing Each Other? Sainsbury Centre: 

  • Tiaki Ora ∞ Protecting Life: Anton Forde, 2 August 2025 – 19 April 2026 

  • Eyewitness, 20 September 2025 – 15 February 2026 

  • Roots of Resilience: Tesfaye Urgessa, 20 September 2025 – 15 February 2026 

  • The National Gallery Masterpiece Tour: Reflections on Peace, 20 September 2025 – 11 January 2026 

  • Seeds of Hate and Hope, 28 November 2025 – 17 May 2026 

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Review
Culture
Film & TV
Mental Health
5 min read

The C-list villains reviving Marvel's Cinematic Universe

A thunderbolt of sincerity shows the franchise can still thrill.

Giles is a writer and creative who hosts the God in Film podcast.

Four characters from a film loop warily to the side.
Anticipating the reviews.
Marvel Studios.

This article will contain spoilers for Thunderbolts* 

It’s not unreasonable to say that fan expectations for the Thunderbolts* was tepid at best.  Even the most diehard of them had to admit that the output for phase five of the Marvel Cinematic Universe has been a mixed bag. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 was deeply heartfelt, the Marvels was an enjoyable watch, but Antman and the Wasp: Quantumania definitely felt like a misstep, and the last Captain America: Brave New World certainly didn’t feel like it had exploited all the opportunities available. So, when Thunderbolts* arrived to round off this phase, featuring a team comprised of C-list villains, it was hard to generate a lot of enthusiasm. Thankfully, this film showed that Marvel still has what it takes to thrill and inspire us in equal measure. 

Loosely inspired by a group created from the comics, the Thunderbolts were a team of villains masquerading as heroes who in some cases, ended up genuinely reforming. If that premise sounds familiar, that’s because it’s essentially the idea behind Suicide Squad, (a film so bad that D.C. had another go at making a Suicide Squad film and we the audience, were more than happy to just let them).  

The original Avenger line up, whilst compelling, always had some distance between themselves and the core audience. A super soldier, a billionaire genius, a rage monster, a literal Norse god and a super spy carried the bulk of the story. That level of brilliance in a set of characters can be inspiring but also alienating. How for example, can a person relate to Steve Rogers? A character whose main defining trait is to always make the right moral choices and be universally respected for it? 

The Thunderbolt team is not so respectable. U.S. Agent, (Wyatt Russell) the Red Guardian (David Harbour) Bucky Barnes, (Sebastian Stan) and Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen) have all at some point been trained assassins. The film goes to great lengths to show all of these characters being broken in some way or other. None more so than the character of Yelena. 

Whilst this film is definitely an ensemble picture, they make no qualms about putting Florence Pugh‘s Yelena Belova front and centre of the story. Pugh’s star power showed that it could hold up alongside Marvel veterans like Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner, and it’s put to good use here. The film opens with Yelena having something of an existential crisis. “There is something wrong with me” her internal monologue says; “An emptiness. I’m just…drifting. And I don’t have purpose.” Granted having a job where most of the individuals you meet are people you are either going to kill or incapacitate would indeed make loneliness an occupational hazard. But despite the fantastical circumstances, many viewers will be able to relate to the feelings presented.  

It's this awareness of her own struggles then, that perhaps makes Yelena best placed to help ‘Bob’, an affable, self-deprecating young man. Bob (played pitch perfect by Lewis Pullman, son of the great Bill Pullman) is given god-like powers by Julie Dreyfuss’s Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, in the hopes of making him a protector for the earth against any inter-galactic threats. With his new powers, Bob is virtually unstoppable. There’s just one problem; Bob clearly suffers from some type of crippling depression, which when amped up with super-powers makes him ‘The Void.’ His appearance; a black outline sucking in all detail save for two pin pricks of light where his eyes should be, combined with the ability to effortlessly turn people into black scorch marks, is the stuff of nightmares. Move over Churchill’s ‘black dog’, we now have a new metaphor for depression and its all-consuming power.  

Battling depression is an area where the church is still lagging behind the world at large. “A depressed Christian has a double burden” writes Dr John Lockley in his book A Practical Workbook for the Depressed Christian, “Not only is he depressed but he also feels guilty because, as a Christian, he feels he is supposed to be full of joy.” 

In some evangelical circles, depression is either treated as something that doesn’t exist, is minimised, or mistakenly believed to be the result of unconfessed sin. Spiritual leaders who are ignorant of the nuance around mental health believe that depression can simply be prayed away. When that doesn’t work, they can often blame the sufferer for their lack of healing, putting them in a very lonely place. “One of the most painful elements of mental illness is that it’s marked by isolation, which is exactly the opposite of what people need” writer Amy Simpson said in a 2014 interview; “And one of the things people with mental illness most need is for this kind of loving community to tighten around them, not to loosen”. Why is this relevant to a superhero blockbuster? Well, the climax of the film does a great job of illustrating a positive approach to mental health.  

The finale of Thunderbolts* somehow manages to have its cake and eat it. Once again, New York is in need of saving, but also, it’s about trying to help a young person overcome their depression and not completely succumb to The Void. Being able to go into someone’s mind and see their core traumas writ large is the most comic book conceit in storytelling. Inside Bob’s psyche, we see him trying to fight The Void, and failing, and it’s only when he has help from the rest of the Thunderbolts* is he able to get a temporary release from The Void’s grip. It would be a mistake to over-state this scene as a full-on treatise on how to tackle mental health issues, but it might just have some clues as to how to go about it: 1) don’t expect that any battle with depression is decisive. It can always come back and it’s better to prepare for that possibility and 2) you don’t have to battle it alone, it would be madness to even try.  

It's a surprisingly sincere place for a seemingly wry film to end, but it really, really works. It could be that expectations may have been lowered, or that we were expecting a film with the emotional depth of a puddle. But Thunderbolts* wildly exceeded expectations, and as the best post-credits scenes often do, there’s a promise that the best is yet to come.  

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This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

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