Arthur Fleck does not become the Joker because his mind is “weak,” but because the world is deaf. His laughter, grotesque and painful, is not a sign of joy but a symptom of suffering. It is the body’s last defense mechanism, a reflex of a nervous system struck too many times, a distorted attempt to release emotions he no longer knows how to express. There is no comedy in that sound. Only a wound demanding to be seen.

The clown makeup is not a costume. It is a survival mechanism. His real face is something no one has ever wanted to look at:
the face of a child abused by his mother,
the face of a man humiliated by the streets,
the face of someone who has never been loved.

He covers it with paint because he has learned that people prefer the caricature over the truth. He becomes the Joker because exaggeration is the only space where he can still exist.

Arthur attends therapy sessions that feel bureaucratic, hollow, and stripped of genuine human connection. And when he is told there are “no more resources” for him, the message is unmistakable: You are not worth basic care. That is the moment society turns off the last light in his tunnel. In this story, psychosis is not simply a medical condition. It is a social verdict.

The Joker is not only Arthur. He becomes a mirror for the masses who see their own injustice reflected in him. When the trauma of one man becomes a symbol of collective humiliation, a dangerous chemistry begins. Madness stops being a solitary experience and becomes contagious.

Arthur chooses to become the Joker not because he enjoys violence, but because chaos feels like the only freedom left. If he cannot be seen as a human being, he will be seen as a monster. It is a distorted, yet brutally honest form of existential choice: if meaning is denied, then destruction becomes a way to be acknowledged at all.

His final laughter is not happiness. It is a nihilistic acceptance that the world has no place for him.

This film forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth:
How many lives do we ignore while walking past people we label as “weird,” “sick,” or “worthless”?
How many Arthur Flecks are pushed deeper into darkness by our indifference?
And how often do we finally notice a person only when their pain erupts into violence?

The film does not justify the monster, but it does reveal the anatomy of monstrosity.
No one becomes one alone.
A monster is always the product of silence and blindness.

At the same time, the film raises a crucial question about empathy. To understand a killer, we must allow ourselves to see his humanity. Without identification, empathy cannot exist. We do not need to excuse violence, but we must understand the conditions that create it.

Understanding is not forgiveness.
It is prevention.

References:

APA – Understanding Trauma
https://www.apa.org/topics/trauma

National Institute of Mental Health – Trauma & Violence
https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/trauma-and-violence

Cleveland Clinic – Childhood Trauma
https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/24439-childhood-trauma

WHO – Mental Health and Stigma
https://www.who.int/teams/mental-health-and-substance-use/stigma-and-discrimination

NAMI – Effects of Social Isolation
https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/2019/Social-Isolation-and-Mental-Illness

Mental Health Foundation – Social Exclusion
https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/explore-mental-health/a-z-topics/social-exclusion-and-mental-health

APA – Psychosis Overview
https://www.apa.org/topics/psychosis

NIMH – Schizophrenia & Psychotic Disorders
https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/schizophrenia