Conservative political activist and writer Charlie Kirk, co-founder of Turning Point USA, was assassinated yesterday during an event at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah. Most people—including, to their credit, many prominent Democratic politicians—reacted with disgust and condemnation. Sane people of all political stripes agree that we cannot solve our political disagreements with bullets.
Political violence happens sometimes in America. Four U.S. presidents have been assassinated in office—Abraham Lincoln (R) in 1865, James Garfield (R) in 1881, William McKinley (R) in 1901, and John F. Kennedy (D) in 1963. Another, Ronald Reagan (R), was seriously wounded but survived an assassination attempt in 1981. Then-former President Teddy Roosevelt (R), running for president again under the Progressive Party banner, survived an assassination attempt in 1912. Senator Robert F. Kennedy (D-NY), then a candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination, was killed in 1968. Other assassinations and attempted assassinations have targeted members of Congress, state governors and legislators, and local officials.
These crimes led to widespread public outrage and condemnation. I’m sure some people were happy to see their least favorite politicians murdered, but they (aside from a few fringe radicals) wouldn’t say something like that in public . . . or even in private.
Something is different now.
The cadence of political violence has increased in the last two years. Then-former President Donald Trump (R), running for the presidency again, was shot and injured in a July 2024 attack that left one of his supporters dead. Another attempt on his life was thwarted by the U.S. Secret Service two months later. A pro-Palestine terrorist targeted Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro (D) and his family by firebombing the governor’s mansion in April of this year. In June, an assassin killed Minnesota Representative Melissa Hortman (D-34B) and her husband, and seriously wounded Minnesota Senator John Hoffman (D-34th) and his wife.
Nearly as troubling is how public sentiment has shifted. In a 2024 NPR/PBS NewsHour/Marist poll, more than 20% of respondents said violence may be necessary to “get the nation back on track.” Meanwhile, too many Americans now respond to these acts with indifference or even joy, so long as they are directed at “those people” on the other side of a given sociopolitical divide.
You can find hateful people of all political persuasions, but “on the ground” there is an obvious tilt. When a Democrat is targeted, most conservatives react with unequivocal condemnation. Hateful counterexamples constitute a small fringe group that faces as much push-back from other conservatives as from anywhere else. When a Republican is targeted, the reaction is more mixed. The progressive haters—those who make dismissive, sarcastic quips and revel in their schadenfreude—are a minority too, but they aren’t some tiny fringe, and they are not consistently ostracized by the mainstream. They constitute a substantial portion of today’s left, and their hate is often quietly tolerated by their peers.
On my Facebook friends list, I have a broad mix of people from the left, right, and center. Some are relatively extreme, and others are more moderate. When the Democratic legislators were shot in Minnesota and the Democratic governor’s home in Pennsylvania was firebombed, nobody on my list said anything rude or hateful about it. They either wished the victims well, or said nothing. But yesterday, two people on my list posted sarcastic, hateful posts or comments about Kirk . . . a private citizen who has pretty normal, conservative opinions about things. They made callous quips about the cold-blooded murder of a husband and father who had done nothing wrong.
I rarely unfriend people on social media. I never unfriend them over simple political disagreements; that sort of thing is how we got ourselves into this mess. But I have to draw lines somewhere. My political views aren’t 100% in line with Kirk’s, but they’re in the same neighborhood. I have to assume those who think his murder was okay, or just a joke to score points with, would be just as rotten if somebody murdered me for my politics too. I don’t need friends like that.
The murder of Charlie Kirk hit me harder than other recent examples of political violence. At first I wasn’t sure why; I was not a big fan or anything (though I had nothing against him). Konstantin Kisin, co-host of the Triggernometry podcast, figured it out quicker than I did. In a short article and video titled Charlie Kirk’s Murder is a Tragedy For All of Us, he said:
If I had to rationalize why I didn’t, I guess it’s because several U.S. presidents have been shot at and even assassinated. Somehow it was within the realms of the possible, no matter how awful. But to murder a young father simply for doing debates and mobilizing young people to vote for a party that represents half of America? This is something else.
I don’t know if Kisin is right about what this will lead to or the greater impact it will have—he says he feels like “some sort of invisible line has been crossed that we didn’t even know was there,” and fears that Kirk’s murder “will be a tragedy for all of us in ways we will only understand as time unfolds.” But his explanation for why it feels the way it does rings true.
The possibility of assassination is a “known risk” for holders of high office; we mitigate it by giving those officials heavy security and law enforcement protection. But Kirk was just a guy . . . he makes no policies and writes no laws. He was an American with an opinion. That’s all.
I try to view political matters from a ‘big picture’ perspective. For example, I have, at times, advocated policies that might have negative effects on me as an individual because I thought they would be good for the country. But I’m still human (believe it or not). We often see things in terms of our personal points of view. And from my point of view, Kirk was more “like me” than any president or legislator.
I am not comparing my little website with Turning Point USA, and I don’t have the guts to do the sorts of “prove me wrong” in-person debates with sometimes-hostile audiences that Kirk was famous for. But when you get right down to it, Kirk wasn’t killed for enacting policies people don’t like . . . he was killed for having opinions people don’t like, and daring to speak them aloud.
That’s something I do.
I’m doing it right now.
Political assassinations of private citizens in America are rare, but not unheard of. The most famous was the murder of civil-rights activist Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968. In another incident less than a year ago, an assassin killed UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson to protest the American healthcare system (which also prompted ghoulish comments from far too many left-wing haters, and depressingly little push-back from their mainstream peers). The murders of Thompson and Kirk in relatively short succession suggests this outbreak of political violence will not be limited to office holders and policy makers. It has already worked its way down to businessmen and activists. How long before it reaches you or me?
The hypothetical assassination of a conservative president feels a long ways away from killing the guy who runs Scott Bradford: Off on a Tangent. After all, I hold no office. The assassination of a healthcare CEO also feels remote because I do not lead a controversial business. But the assassination of Charlie Kirk, a private citizen who dared to share his opinions . . . that feels awfully close.