Another US campus shooting: The assassination of Charlie Kirk

There is a special irony to Charlie Kirk’s assassination: a cautionary tale in supporting ideals from which we are far removed, championing ideologies and policies that chiefly affect others – until they come home to roost.

His last words testimony to this, as he began to argue that gang violence was the main reason for the frequency of US mass shootings, instead of the circumstances that allow both to exist.

Kirk had no firsthand experience of such violence nor living in communities that live with that reality yet used this to argue in favour of bearing arms with little issue. Much like his disconnection from the trans community, female bodily autonomy, and DEI, all of which he staunchly rejected.

It was a tactical trope he had used innumerable times before and did – quite literally – to his final breath.

Honouring Kirk

In addition to believing gun deaths were a necessary evil in enacting the second amendment, Kirk once said, “I can’t stand the word empathy, actually. I think empathy is a made-up, new age term that does a lot of damage.”

If we are to follow his words, his death, like any in a society with more firearms than citizens, was to be expected. In the immediate aftermath this might come across as insensitive. But whenever deadly consequences of US life come about, these glaring contradictions never seem to be grasped by all, with the last 10 years suggesting common sense and reasoning have reached new nadirs.

An old and tired two-party system holds the burden of responsibility for this, the maniacal fervour of “us” against “them” it produces, and the religious worship of ever-changing charismatic leaders – all of whom happen to be on the same lobbyists’ payrolls.

All factors that have contaminated both sides of US politics for decades, and without major systemic change – as is needed in many Western democracies – will continue to do so.

What does Kirk’s assassination tell us

The more we look at what happened in Utah and elsewhere since, the more hypocrisies are laid bare.

For instance, an alternative question to whether we should care for the death of Kirk – this is unquestionable – is whether Kirk would have himself for other victims of gun violence?

Going by his record, one would have to say no.

Unless, of course, there is a political spin to be spun behind a shooting.

In that case, going by the outpouring of public grief by the US public that consistently accompanies these incidents, this seemingly implies more gravitas, empathy, and reverence reserved for victims of politically motivated shootings than others.

At the time of writing, the US has seen 48 school shootings so far this year, leaving 19 dead and 77 injured – yet not one of those deaths was deemed worthy of half-masted flags by presidential decree.

In a similar vein, there have been no bi-partisan messages of condemnation from all living US presidents, inundation of social media feeds, grandiose displays of despair from conservative actors, or their calls for “empathy” for the over 40,000 other gun deaths since January.

A lot of this speaks to the prevalence of gun violence and deaths in the country, its normalcy to many.

The thought of each death leading to the pomp of ordered mourning from the country’s highest office being ludicrous – the top half of American flagpoles would disappear into redundancy.

Remembering Kirk

Kirk should be commended for a commitment to dialogue, his desire to engage in-person, when many others would not, while providing spaces for political alternatives to the left leanings that tend to dominate university campuses.

How he went about achieving each – his incendiary oratory, dogmatic stubbornness, looseness with facts – should all be criticised, but at least he was providing a platform for nonviolent debate.

Kirk was both a victim and contributor to a country that has consistently voted for governments who turn a blind eye to tens-of-thousands of gun deaths every year, including frequent school shootings, and is now in the grips of increased politically motivated assassination attempts and violence.

However, his messages, all regurgitations of decades-old conservative talking points, should be remembered for what they were: combustible, often hateful words thrown into an increasingly divided and restless nation.

Kirk’s legacy

Kirk never expressly incited violence. Yet it would be hard to argue his rhetoric has not fed violence towards already marginalised communities.

For example, the trans community could be let off for feeling little sorrow for the loss of one of their main antagonists for the past 10 years.

States that introduced anti-transgender laws have experienced a concerning uptick of trans teen suicide attempts – in some cases as high as 72%. Violent transphobic attacks nearly doubled during Trump’s first term, with Black trans women most at risk, and data consistently indicating this has continued to rise since 2022.

The right’s emphasis on empathy in the wake of his killing, although human, and necessary within the current context of US politics, is a hard pill to swallow when looking at what Kirk has said and promoted over the years.

He did not create the current US – but did more than his share to maintain and intensify its circumstances.

The type of circumstances that lead to political assassinations in broad daylight on university campuses.