The shooting of Charlie Kirk is a spiritual crisis, not just a political one

Samantha Smith • September 11, 2025

In a moment that seemed straight from a dystopian horror novel, conservative activist and founder of Turning Point USA, Charlie Kirk, was shot in the neck during an event on his “American Comeback Tour” at Utah Valley University.

The attack occurred as he addressed a packed crowd beneath a tent emblazoned with slogans like “Prove Me Wrong” – a cruel irony given the events that would unfold. A single shot rang out from a nearby building, striking Kirk left of centre and sending ripples of horror across the political spectrum.

Kirk is dead.

But this was not merely another flashpoint in America’s endless culture wars. It was an excruciating reminder of what we lose when violence infiltrates public life – when political beliefs are used to justify mortal violence, and we allow our sense of morality to become cannon fodder in an ideological war.

Because Charlie Kirk was not a political caricature. He was a devoted husband and loving father, a committed Christian whose life and work were animated by his faith. Those closest to him knew not an internet behemoth, but a man of gentleness, generosity, and prayer, who would never willingly harm another soul. Kirk’s mission was not driven by anger but by conviction – and by a desire to safeguard the freedoms upon which civil society depends.

To strike at such a man is to wound not only his family and community, but the very spirit of Christendom he sought to embody.

Recent public discourse has too often entertained the idea that “the other side” is not only misguided but unworthy of basic dignity. At its root, this mindset invites apathy. Whether one revered Kirk or loathed him, his shooting is not a political statement; it is an act of terror. Violent acts like these evangelise no one to the cause. Indeed, they only undermine the respect and authority which those activists seek.

First, it was President Donald Trump. Then it was Democratic politicians John Hoffman and Melissa Hortman. Today, it was Charlie Kirk. Tomorrow, it could be anyone — journalists, protesters, activists, or random civilians walking down the street.

In the immediate aftermath, an unusual unity briefly broke through the rancour. Leaders from both sides agreed that political violence must never win. Utah Governor Spencer Cox called for justice and accountability. California Governor Gavin Newsom denounced the attack as “disgusting, vile and reprehensible.” Democrat Ro Khanna and Republican stalwarts like Mike Lee echoed the refrain. For a moment, horror outpaced partisanship.

Yet such unity, while heartening, must not lull us into inaction.

As Catholics, we must look beyond the headlines and see the deeper spiritual poverty at the root of these tragedies. It is never simply an isolated act, but the fruit of a culture that has forgotten the dignity of its fellow man. When adversaries are no longer merely disagreed with but morally nullified – when they are treated not as persons but as obstacles – the path to violence seems inevitable.

The Catechism reminds us that every form of violence wounds not only the victim but society itself, and gravely offends the Lord, who commands us to love even our enemies.

It is not enough to condemn Kirk’s shooting – or those that came before it – in the abstract. We must confront the creeping culture of dehumanisation that makes such acts possible.

On many campuses, including Utah Valley, the presence of politicians has been met with petitions demanding their de-platforming. Durham University was forced to shield Israeli academics from aggressive protestors during a debate on the Gaza War; former Home Secretary Amber Rudd was no-platformed shortly before she was due to speak at an Oxford Union event; political scientist Charles Murray’s lecture at Middlebury College was shut down amid violent demonstrations, injuring a professor and attendees who had been moderating the event.

Protest is a cornerstone of free society. But when exercised in a spirit of rage rather than reason, it easily becomes tinder for darker flames. If we accept a climate in which we celebrate the silencing of those we despise, we should not be surprised when others take the logic further – with catastrophic consequences.

Yes, law enforcement will do its work and with luck will catch the perpetrator. But, as Christians, our task lies elsewhere.

We must pray for Charlie Kirk, for his family, and even for the one who sought to end his life. We must recommit ourselves to the truth that every human life, even that of our political adversary, is sacred. To silence debate is not to win an argument, but to impoverish the common good. We must resist the temptation to answer hatred with hatred. And we must insist that our great institutions do not cease allowing voices to be heard — even those we find most objectionable. An invisible line has been crossed today, and I daresay there is no going back.

The assassination of Charlie Kirk is not merely a political crisis: it is a civic and spiritual reckoning.

The full weight of what just transpired can only be seen when we look beyond the politics and recognise it as an assault on the right to speak, to assemble, to challenge — and therefore as an assault on the God-given dignity of each one of us. If we forget that dignity, we risk not only violence but the loss of our very soul as a people.

In grief, anger, or fear, the barrel of a gun must never become our argument.