Empathy is the only way forward after Charlie Kirk’s death
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It wasn’t the greeting I was expecting from my dad when I stopped by for lunch Wednesday at his Anaheim home.
“¿Quién es Charlie Kirk?”
Papi still has a flip phone, so he hasn’t sunk into an endless stream of YouTube and podcasts like some of his friends. His sources of news are Univisión and the top-of-the-hour bulletins on Mexican oldies stations — far away from Kirk’s conservative supernova.
“Some political activist,” I replied. “Why?”
“The news said he got shot.”
Papi kept watering his roses while I went on my laptop to learn more. My stomach churned and my heart sank as graphic videos of Kirk taking a bullet in the neck while speaking to students at Utah Valley University peppered my social media feeds. What made me even sicker was that everyone online already thought they knew who did it, even though law enforcement hadn’t identified a suspect.
Conservatives blamed liberalism for demonizing one of their heroes and vowed vengeance. Some progressives argued that Kirk had it coming because of his long history of incendiary statements against issues including affirmative action, trans people and Islam. Both sides predicted an escalation in political violence in the wake of Kirk’s killing — fueled by the other side against innocents, of course.
It was the internet at its worst, so I closed my laptop and checked on my dad. He had moved on to cleaning the pool.
Political violence has no place in American democracy. But in this fragile moment, we can’t use that violence as an excuse to curb more freedoms.
“So who was he?” Papi asked again. By then, Donald Trump had announced Kirk’s death. Text messages streamed in from my colleagues. I gave my dad a brief sketch of Kirk’s life, and he frowned when I said the commentator had supported Trump’s mass deportation dreams.
Hate wasn’t on Papi’s mind, however.
“It’s sad that he got killed,” Papi said. “May God bless him and his family.”
“Are politics going to get worse now?” he added.
It’s a question that friends and family have been asking me ever since Kirk’s assassination. I’m the political animal in their circles, the one who bores everyone at parties as I yap about Trump and Gov. Gavin Newsom while they want to talk Dodgers and Raiders. They’re too focused on raising families and trying to prosper in these hard times to post a hot take on social media about political personalities they barely know.
They’ve long been over this nation’s partisan divide, because they work and play just fine with people they don’t agree with. They’re tired of being told to loathe someone over ideological differences or blindly worship a person or a cause because it’s supposedly in their best interests. They might not have heard of Kirk before his assassination, but they now worry about what’s next — because a killing this prominent is usually a precursor of worse times ahead.
I wasn’t naive enough to think that the killing of someone as divisive as Kirk would bring Americans together to denounce political terrorism and forge a kinder nation. I knew that each side would embarrass itself with terrible takes and that Trump wouldn’t even pretend to be a unifier.
But the collective dumpster fire we got was worse than I had imagined.
Although conservatives brag that no riots have sparked, as happened after George Floyd’s murder in 2020, they’re largely staying silent as the loudest of Kirk’s supporters vow to crush the left once and for all. The Trump administration is already promising a crackdown against the left in Kirk’s name, and no GOP leaders are complaining. People are losing their jobs because of social media posts critical of Kirk, and his fans are cheering the cancel cavalcade.
Meanwhile, progressives are flummoxed by the right, yet again. They can’t understand why vigils nationwide for someone they long cast as a white nationalist, a fascist and worse are drawing thousands. They’re dismissing those who attend as deluded cultists, hardening hearts on each side even more. They’re posting Kirk’s past statements on social media as proof that they’re correct about him — but that’s like holding up a sheet of paper to dam the Mississippi.
I hadn’t paid close attention to Kirk, mostly because he didn’t have a direct connection to Southern California politics. I knew he had helped turn young voters toward Trump, and I loathed his noxious comments that occasionally caught my attention. I appreciated that he was willing to argue his views with critics, even if his style was more Cartman from “South Park” (which satirized Kirk’s college tours just weeks ago) than Ronald Reagan versus Walter Mondale.
I understand why his fans are grieving and why opponents are sickened at his canonization by Trump, who seems to think that only conservatives are the victims of political violence and that liberals can only be perpetrators. I also know that a similar thing would happen if, heaven forbid, a progressive hero suffered Kirk’s tragic end — way too many people on the right would be dancing a jig and cracking inappropriate jokes, while the left would be whitewashing the sins of the deceased.
A string of recent events — from the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk to President Trump’s deployment of troops to U.S. cities — has scholars worried that history is at risk of repeating itself.
We’re witnessing a partisan passion play, with the biggest losers our democracy and the silent majority of Americans like my father who just want to live life. Weep or critique — it’s your right to do either. But don’t drag the whole country into your culture war. Those who have navigated between the Scylla and Charybdis of right and left for too long want to sail to calmer waters. Turning Kirk’s murder into a modern-day Ft. Sumter when we aren’t even certain of his suspected killer’s motives is a guarantee for chaos.
I never answered my dad’s question about what’s next for us politically. In the days since, I keep rereading what Kirk said about empathy. He derided the concept on a 2022 episode of his eponymous show as “a made-up, new age term that … does a lot of damage.”
Kirk was wrong about many things, but especially that. Empathy means we try to understand each other’s experiences — not agree, not embrace, but understand. Empathy connects us to others in the hope of creating something bigger and better.
It’s what allows me to feel for Kirk’s loved ones and not wish his fate on anyone, no matter how much I dislike them or their views. It’s the only thing that ties me to Kirk — he loved this country as much as I do, even if our views about what makes it great were radically different.
Preaching empathy might be a fool’s errand. But at a time when we’re entrenched deeper in our silos than ever, it’s the only way forward. We need to understand why wishing ill on the other side is wrong and why such talk poisons civic life and dooms everyone.
Kirk was no saint, but if his assassination makes us take a collective deep breath and figure out how to fix this fractured nation together, he will have truly died a martyr’s death.
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Ideas expressed in the piece
The author argues that empathy is the essential path forward in the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s assassination, emphasizing that both conservative and progressive reactions have been counterproductive and divisive. The author criticizes how conservatives immediately blamed liberalism while some progressives argued Kirk deserved his fate due to his controversial statements, creating an online environment that represents “the internet at its worst.”
Drawing from personal experience with family members who remain disconnected from partisan politics, the author contends that most Americans are exhausted by the political divide and simply want to focus on their daily lives rather than engage in ideological warfare. These individuals, represented by the author’s father who showed compassion for Kirk despite disagreeing with his deportation stance, demonstrate a more measured approach to political differences.
The author warns against transforming Kirk’s murder into a catalyst for increased political violence, comparing the potential escalation to Fort Sumter and arguing that such reactions would guarantee chaos. The author advocates for understanding rather than agreement, suggesting that empathy allows people to comprehend others’ experiences without necessarily embracing their viewpoints.
While acknowledging Kirk’s divisive nature and disagreeing with many of his positions, the author emphasizes their shared love of country as a connecting point. The author hopes that Kirk’s tragic death might serve as a moment for collective reflection that could help heal America’s fractured political landscape, potentially making Kirk’s death meaningful as a catalyst for national unity.
Different views on the topic
Security experts and law enforcement professionals have focused criticism on the institutional failures that enabled Kirk’s assassination, arguing that the tragedy was preventable through proper planning and venue selection. Former Secret Service agent Don Mihalek questioned the choice of an outdoor location surrounded by tall buildings with clear sight lines, especially given recent similar attacks, while retired NYPD chief Robert Boyce stated that controversial speakers should never appear at outdoor venues[1].
Critics of the university’s security protocols emphasize that the event lacked basic safety measures, with multiple attendees reporting no security checks, ID verification, or bag searches upon entry. These security failures become more concerning given that the event was open to the general public rather than restricted to students, creating what experts describe as an uncontrolled environment for a high-profile, controversial speaker[1].
Prior to the event, campus opposition had mobilized against Kirk’s appearance, with over 900 people signing a petition requesting that university officials prevent his visit, citing concerns about his “divisive rhetoric” and policies that could “marginalize various communities.” This organized resistance demonstrates that Kirk’s controversial status was well-established and should have prompted enhanced security measures[1].
Law enforcement and university officials have faced scrutiny for their coordination failures, with Utah Valley University Police Chief Jeff Long admitting this was “a police chief’s nightmare” and acknowledging that despite having six officers working the event, security protocols were inadequate. The FBI’s ongoing investigation has revealed evidence including the suspect’s escape route and abandoned weapons, highlighting the systematic nature of the planned attack[1][2].
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