The recent killing of famed conservative commentator Charlie Kirk has drawn a broad spectrum of reactions and responses. For those of his political persuasion, Kirk was a bright young mind and future leader snuffed out in his prime. For others, it is a moment to solemnly reflect on the state of political discourse in our nation.
And lastly, for many, his death was a moment of celebration. Kirk had finally reached the “find out” stage of his public agitation. Despite any personal feelings I might have towards the man, Kirk’s death deeply troubles me.
However, though I do not share in any potential jubilation, I understand why a Muslim, whose communities Kirk called “a threat to America”; a Black person, who Kirk claimed went “around for fun to go target white people”; or a queer person, who Kirk called a “throbbing middle finger to god” might react differently.
Kirk would’ve wanted many of my friends, the people I love most dearly, either dead or removed from society at large. However, Kirk was ultimately a child, a father, a husband and, most significantly, a human — a human who had the same right to life and expression as those he sought to take those rights from.
If I accept that Kirk’s life matters less, then I accept his worldview: that some lives are simply worth less than others.
The American right has gradually been overtaken by a new kind of conservative. While I can’t say conservative administrations prior to Trump were excellent when it came to uplifting marginalized people, they at least often maintained a more passive attitude towards those they considered societal ills. Reagan primarily tried to avoid speaking on polarizing social issues, and George W. Bush previously stated that “I think it is bad for Republicans to be kicking gays.”
However, since 2016, American conservatism has taken on a much more aggressive, hostile attitude towards groups of people considered undesirable by those in power. Explicitly dehumanizing rhetoric has become commonplace in political parlance. It’s not uncommon to see “illegal immigrants” described as animals or monsters. Transgender people are often described as predatory beasts, preying on young children.
There is a critical lack of empathy on much of the American right, and if not contained soon, it will come to rot the entire system, if it hasn’t already.
This is why I do not celebrate the death of Kirk: because Kirk would probably want me to celebrate. The immediate jump by many conservative figureheads to label this killing a product of the “radical left” or attempting to pin it somehow on Democrats demonstrates what they believe their opposition to be.
Do not allow those in power to dictate the terms in which you engage with them. Do not allow the rabble-rousers to strip you of your love for humanity. By participating in the politics of dehumanization — by allowing for the abrogation of the dignity of human life, you choose to play the same destructive game they do.
Kirk’s death is not a “victory.” His passing will create a dozen more noxious influencers seeking to corrupt valuable debate. It will likely encourage many to engage in twisted retribution on his behalf, leading to a broader chilling of voices across the political spectrum.
The only thing that has changed is that a family is shattered, a voice silenced and a body lies cold in the soil.
If you rejoiced in Kirk’s death, I encourage you to truly interrogate that side of yourself. If you cannot muster any grief, I won’t necessarily begrudge you that. However, if you find yourself worried, as did I, upon discovering a growing disconnect between the love in your heart and your experience of humanity, then now is the time to truly embrace revolutionary empathy.
When empathy is under attack, love becomes an act of resistance. Only through compassion can we reverse the toxicity plaguing politics in this country.
Gordon Crawford is a 19-year-old political science major from Gonzales, La.
