We can be certain of only one thing in the assassination of Charlie Kirk. It won’t be the last of its kind.
It won’t be the last, because it wasn’t the first. Not in this century. Not in this decade. Not even in this year.
It was only three months earlier that two Minnesota state legislators were shot, one of them fatally. That killing fell less than a year after President Donald Trump had his ear grazed by a would-be-assassin’s bullet in Pennsylvania, then, months later, was nearly fired upon at his own golf club in Florida.
There will be more of these incidents, because we’ve grown as accustomed to violence as we have to rain. It just happens, we tell ourselves. Stormy weather. People said they were horrified by the video of Kirk being shot in the neck. But how can we be horrified? We witness gruesome attacks all the time — in our entertainment, in our newscasts, and, now, increasingly, in our politics.
Until Kirk was killed on a college campus last week, the biggest news story had been the murder of a Ukrainian woman by an alleged deranged assailant on a North Carolina train. He rose from the seat behind her and, without provocation, stabbed her to death. We saw the video. We thought it was horrifying.
But United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson was fatally shot outside a New York City hotel by an assailant who pulled the gun out and steadied it before firing. The whole thing was caught on surveillance cameras. We thought that video was horrifying.
Paul Pelosi, the husband of then-U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, was attacked by an assailant with a hammer in his home. Police body cams captured the whole thing. We thought that video was horrifying.
How many times can we shriek? How long before a gasp turns into a sigh?
Gun violence all around us
Let’s be honest. We abhor violence, yet we tolerate it, even celebrate it. You can’t keep a body count of the murders in a John Wick movie, but they keep making those films, and we keep reveling in them. The bloodier the video game, the bigger it sells. Footage of altercations on airplanes or in shopping malls light up the internet. Heck, the White House is about to host a UFC mixed martial arts event on its lawn.
And while you can argue that much of that violence is fictional, you can’t argue that we absorb it. That it affects us. That when the real thing comes along, many of us can’t tell the difference, or rather, can’t feel the difference. Which is why we forget so easily. Why we stop talking about the souls lost after the news cycle runs out.
We may claim we are aghast. That we must do something about gun violence in this country. But come on. If we really wanted to do something about guns, we would have. We’ve had a million good reasons. School shootings. Church shootings. The same week Kirk was assassinated, we were talking about another campus shooting in Colorado. It never ends.
Still, the bullets that take down innocent bystanders are one form of tragedy, and bullets meant to silence voices are another. An assassination, by definition, is a deliberate murder meant to extinguish someone for what they do or believe or stand for. Kirk, the 31-year-old conservative activist, was being asked about mass shootings in America when he was shot. That’s beyond ironic. It’s tragic.
But it’s also dangerous to our kids. Not because of the physical danger.
But for what it does to their minds.
More demagoguery than demographics
Many on the left won’t see past Charlie Kirk’s divisive statements, and some will incredibly believe he brought this death upon himself (MSNBC’S Matthew Dowd said as much, and was promptly fired.)
Meanwhile, some on the right will see this incident as a declaration of war, and Kirk as a soldier who died for his righteous beliefs.
But we all ought to be thinking about our children. Because Charlie Kirk’s legacy is less about demagoguery than demographics. Remember, he was enormously popular with young conservatives. He may have swung the election to Donald Trump because of that.
And young liberals knew Kirk well, because he spoke in their world of podcasts and tweets, because he was a constant presence on college campuses — and, tragically, was murdered on one.
What does his violent death do to our young generation’s perception of power? Those of you reading this in your 60s, 70s or 80s may still remember where you were when President John F. Kennedy was shot, or what newscaster brought you the story that Martin Luther King Jr. had been assassinated on a Memphis hotel balcony.
Those events forged perceptions of our government, our people, our nation. Think of how many young Americans were forever changed when Medgar Evans was killed. Think of how many young Americans were disillusioned after Bobby Kennedy was shot down.
Charlie Kirk may not have been either of those men. But he was a big deal to young people. A young voice who spoke his mind, and at least tried to engage with opponents in a civil manner. His reward was a bullet. That will sear itself in the minds of our children, and forever alter their view of what free speech means, what standing up means, what this country means.
Will they now cower when asked to express their opinions? Will they believe that anyone who makes too much noise on the other side could be — maybe should be — taken out? Will they cynically adopt the philosophy once espoused by Michael Corleone in a “Godfather” movie, that history proves that you can kill anyone in this world if you want to?
Many are calling Kirk’s death an American tragedy. It was. A father, a husband — a soul — was lost. But what it does to the soul of the nation, particularly our youths, may yet prove to be the biggest tragedy of all.
Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates with his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow him @mitchalbom.
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