By: Jože Biščak
For (far) too many, regardless of political affiliation, it seems that 31-year-old Charlie Kirk was being followed very closely. Whether they really were, or merely wanted to capture a moment in time, I do not know; I am not interested, nor is it my problem.
I admit that I did not. I know who he is; from time to time, I watched a short clip of his appearances, but I did not follow the podcast The Charlie Kirk Show. Only when this conservative activist was shot by 22-year-old Tyler Robinson during his characteristic debate, “Prove Me Wrong,” on a university campus in Utah did I watch a few episodes and verbal duels with students. That is how I formed a rough impression of a man whose life (and mission) was cut short by a gunshot.
From what I saw and heard, I must say that Kirk was not a racist, not a misogynist, not a fascist, not transphobic, and he did not preach hatred or intolerance, as progressives, leftists, and woke activists accused him of doing. It is true, he was provocative and challenging, but in a rather calm and polite way, even when those who disagreed with him shouted at him and insulted him. But his main virtue was that he was a great advocate of freedom of speech. For him, there were no taboos; he could discuss anything with anyone. On this point, I myself think very similarly: listen also to your ideological opponents, those who think differently from you, because only then will you be able to respond or voice your disagreement. What I mean is that he understood the concept of freedom of speech, where at its very core lies offensive, indecent, or shocking expression. He himself did not use such a style, but he allowed others to pour filth on him in every possible way. And it never once crossed his mind to prosecute anyone for the words they spoke. Generation Z, which was his target audience, did not listen to him to hear what he had to say, nor because he told them what to think, but because his words sparked interesting debates and because he constantly encouraged his listeners to think (for themselves) and to challenge him. He was doing what universities, where he usually appeared, should be doing: allowing different opinions on all topics, since freedom of speech in academic debate has always been the current that fostered knowledge and drove it forward. With the rise of wokeness, universities abandoned this mission.
That is precisely why Kirk was important. Not because of his (conservative) positions, beliefs, or way of life, but because he let others be who they were, to say what they thought. And then he debated with them and gave his own opinion. He surely knew the dangers. He could have locked himself in the room where he recorded his podcast, but he wanted to be among people, to face them one-on-one, even though the crowd in front of him was hostile and unstable. And he persisted in this. To the very end. Until the bullet that hit him in the neck. In the middle of a sentence, as he was addressing the university audience. It was a deliberate and calculated silencing of a man with a microphone on stage. The trigger was pulled by a young man who now seems to have been brainwashed by the educational system into believing that all means are permitted against those who do not accept progressive dogma.
The American writer and screenwriter George R. R. Martin put it well: “When you tear out a man’s tongue, you are not proving him a liar, you are only telling the world that you fear what he might say.” And the left feared Kirk’s words, which could (and did) convert many young leftists into conservatives. That is why, after his murder, those on the left were popping champagne. Improper, perhaps, but still a completely legitimate expression of opinion. That is part of the concept of freedom of speech. Kirk would have been the first to defend even such an expression. Even so, one thing is certain: leftist violence can no longer be tolerated or trivialised. Murder must be taken with the utmost seriousness.