A couple of weeks ago, I woke to the news of Charlie Kirk’s death. Now I should say, I don’t know Charlie aside from having listened to his videos and podcasts. I have never met him in my life. But the news of his assassination was a big shock. Here is the million-dollar question. Why was the assassination of someone I have never met, someone I don’t know and someone who I disagree with a little, such a shock? I don’t know whether I will ever have the answer to that.
The death of Charlie, an accomplished thirty-one-year-old father of two, is more than the tragic end to a man’s life. This gentleman was gunned down doing exactly what he had spent his adult life doing. He was in-front of a crowd, microphone in hand and engaging with the young people of Americas college campuses. While some admired his politics and ideals, some did despise them.
Almost 3000 young adults had been present to hear Charlie Kirk speak, to hear a political activist that not only used his voice but who gave them a platform for their voice too. Utah Valley University should have been a place of a free exchange of ideas, a place of debate and conversation, but it wasn’t. It became a place of an assault on a public figure, as well as an assault on free speech and political disagreement. Those 3000 young adults should have left Utah Valley University with new perspectives and new ideals. Instead, they left traumatised by what they had seen.
But who was Charlie Kirk? He was the founder of Turning Point USA, an organisation he launched at just 18 years old. What began as a small idea quickly grew into a national platform that mobilised young conservative voices across the United States. Though the movement often drew criticism from those who opposed his views, it undeniably created a space for debate, one that amplified not only his supporters but also his critics too. Charlie was a firm believer in healthy debate, something he was known for. His views on issues such as gender, race, immigration, abortion, and higher education often provoked disapproval and indignation but he always expressed a tolerance for those he disagreed with.
After Charlie’s assassination, the flood of condemnation was immediate—and rightly so. Politicians, leaders, and commentators from every corner of the spectrum rushed to share their outrage, their sadness, and their familiar refrain that violence has no place in American politics. But I cannot help wondering—are words on social media enough? Horror expressed in 280 characters may soothe consciences for a moment, but it doesn’t reckon with the deeper problem.
We must ask harder questions though. Why does stepping into a public arena feel more dangerous than it did before? How do we cool the temperature of a crowd before the next rally turns ugly? How do we stop another scene of bloodshed from unfolding before our eyes? The answers will not come from silencing voices, blame, insulting someone, or pretending differences don’t exist. They will come from drawing firm boundaries again: reminding ourselves that politics should be fought with ballots, arguments, organisation, and persuasion—not bullets.
Charlie had strong views on a variety of issues. His worldview was shaped by a mix of conservatism, religious faith, and individual liberty, to name just a few influences. He had a strong pro-life abortion stance, believing abortion to be equivalent to murder. Kirk was a strong advocate for gun rights. He opposed the majority of gun control opting to support protective or security measures instead. Charlie understood protections under the second amendment meant that there were risks of some deaths.
Charlie was a Christian whose faith influenced his messaging. He believed firmly in the importance of family, marriage, faith and having traditional morals. Charlie firmly believed in the sanctity of marriage and promoted marriage and children. Speaking from my own point of view, I was married at 22. The best parts of marriage were knowing that my late husband and I were meant to be together. We were engaged very quickly; the relationship was right. He was my friend, my soulmate, my protector, and my partner. He looked after me, making me feel incredibly safe – it was something he took pride in. We worked together in our relationship and for our relationship.
I will lay my cards on the table, I am not religious, not at all, and that is something that will not change. I did not support that side of Charlie’s beliefs, but every other aspect of Charlie’s ideals, I would stand shoulder to shoulder with him in support or at least be willing to have a debate about it. As Charlie often said, “Prove me wrong.”
Charlie Kirk lived loudly and died violently. His legacy will be debated, but the circumstances of his death should not be. They should be condemned in unison, as an act that erodes the possibility of peaceful disagreement. They should be condemned no matter which side of the political aisle you are on. They should be condemned no matter your beliefs because at the core of the situation, is the assassination of a man. That is wrong on every level, and in every political spectrum.
Yet with Charlie’s death, we have seen his memory scarred by the political left who discuss and challenge his views. Charlie Kirk had become a convenient lightning rod for the political left—a young, sharp-tongued conservative who thrived on the culture wars. To progressives, he embodied a brand of conservatism that those on the left felt they had to provoke. His unapologetic attacks on higher education, his dismissal of climate change policy, and his fixation on “woke culture” made him a symbol of everything the left believed to be wrong with modern conservatism. The left saw in Kirk not a serious policy thinker but a provocateur who turned every debate into a battle, fuelling division instead of addressing the deeper structural challenges facing Americans: income inequality, healthcare access, and systemic injustice.
And yet, the left was unable to dismiss Kirk entirely, because his reach was undeniable. Through Turning Point USA, he cultivated an entire generation of young conservatives who respected his views and his words. For the left, this was troubling—not just because of what Kirk said, but because of how effectively he put his point across.
His rhetoric was designed for soundbites, social media clips, and viral outrage—formats that left little room for nuanced policy debate. Kirk thrived in that combustible space where politics met outrage, where the left and right collided in public confrontation. For young people, he became not just a voice but a leader. The scale of grief reflects that: the turnout for his memorial has surpassed even the funerals of President John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr.
With Kirk’s death, the nation faces another test: will it slip further into accepting political murder as the cost of civic life, or will it draw a line and say, finally, enough?
