Malice Towards None

Flipping the calendar from August to September brings a mixture of emotions. We say goodbye to family reunions and road trips, and hello to back-to-school sales and football season. Extra hours of sunlight after dinner, fading into fall colors and pumpkin spice everything.

This year marks two momentous September anniversaries that many Americans will observe with sadness: the 25th anniversary of 9/11 and the first anniversary of Charlie Kirk’s assassination. Charlie’s death doesn’t hold the same weight in scale or significance as the terrorist attack on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, but it is, at least among conservatives, an “I remember where I was when I heard the news” moment.

As an avid consumer of conservative online content, primarily through YouTube podcasters, the months following Charlie Kirk’s assassination have been unsettling, to say the least. I cried along with my favorite podcasters, trying to absorb what we wish we could unsee. They, of course, were mourning not just the loss of a colleague and fellow conservative, but a friend. I was mourning the loss of a respected leader and the glorious feeling of hope and positivity that had predominated the Republican Party after President Trump’s inauguration.

But then came his memorial service, and an atmosphere of such profound unity and power. It was as if Charlie’s death had unleashed the Spirit in a way that was almost tangible. Testimonies started popping up across social media from folks who had previously judged Charlie a racist transphobe who were now actually watching his messages and doing a 180 in their opinions of him, many reconnecting with family members they had cut off over political disagreements. We saw the explosive growth of TPUSA chapters across high schools and college campuses. And most importantly, we saw renewed spiritual interest and what appeared to be genuine spiritual revival among the young.

They say tragedies come in threes. None of us saw Charlie’s gruesome and shockingly public death coming. Nor the unexpected sense of heartbroken determination that followed. And then a third wave that no one could have predicted. No, not the wave of vile celebrations of his death, the callous mockery and glorification of the violence that not only ended a man’s life, but also the hopes for his future accomplishments, not to mention the psychological impact of those who witnessed it, both in person and online. To say nothing of the devastation to his family and friends. Anyone who has given more than a few minutes of their time to politics in the last decade could have predicted that. Disgusting? Yes. Surprising? No.

No, the wave I refer to is the seismic wave of division that has deluged the conservative podcastsphere in the wake of Charlie’s death. The turf war over his legacy has spiraled into deep rifts in opinion, not just over “What would Charlie say” about this issue or that, but also over the party’s future direction and leadership. We have seen it destroy previously strong alliances among conservative commentators, leaving many of us on the sidelines, scratching our heads over who to believe or align with.

I do not want to weigh in on accusations regarding conspiracies and larger plots surrounding Charlie’s death. But I do want to offer my perspective on navigating the hellscape of online conservative discourse. Perhaps it will help you avoid being a casualty of this current conflict.

One could say this conflict isn’t a war of good guys and bad, but rather a trial, a courtroom drama in which both sides are making their case. And in this trial, we should focus not on the  motives of either party but on the evidence they present. While I think there are some very bad actors taking advantage of this dispute, I see this less as a criminal trial of good guys and bad and more of a civil trial with points to be made on both sides. As we, the jurors of conservative votes, weigh the arguments, I think it is critical to judge not by inferred motives but by facts.

It is easy to point the finger and say, “So and so is all about the clicks,” and on the other side, “So and so is being controlled by the Jews.” But these statements are much harder to back up with anything resembling evidence. And why should I care about the motives behind someone’s commentary if what they are saying is true and vice versa if what they are arguing for is false or outright evil?

Take Megyn Kelly. I have been a near-fanatic follower of Megyn’s for years. She has been a constant workday companion, keeping me up to date on all things political and newsy. I didn’t always agree with her stances, but that was one of the things I liked about listening to her, especially because she often featured guests who didn’t share her perspective, which I appreciated.

Many have criticized her silence regarding Candace Owens’ accusations, specifically those directed at Erika Kirk. But I believed her espoused devotion to Charlie and admiration of his widow to be sincere. I granted her the benefit of the doubt despite other podcasters that I follow calling her out. I even granted her the benefit of the doubt when her stance on Israel began to change. While I think there is an undeniable connection between criticism of the nation and hatred of Jews, I don’t believe that everyone who is guilty of the former is guilty of the latter. I remember well Megyn’s on-air response to 10/7 and the days that followed. She was clearly disgusted and grieved. I had no evidence of her antisemitism, and therefore I refrained from imputing motives for her change in position. I strongly disagree with her on the war in Iran and Israel’s influence over U.S. foreign policy, but I don’t believe it is worthy of personal criticism.

What is clear, however, is that many do feel this way. I have watched as a number of her regular guests have simply stopped appearing on her show. This has left her with guests less likely to challenge her opinions, significantly diminishing the level of discourse and providing balance to her perspective. While the quality of her show isn’t their responsibility to bear, this splintering of discourse into ever smaller silos reveals a significant weakness in independent media. In an environment lacking equal collaboration, the host is surrounded by employees who, at best, admire and trust their boss’s perspective and, at worst, merely seek to echo the opinions of the person on whom their jobs depend. And this is true of the audience as well. The host, depending on views, likes, and subscription rates, will be sorely tempted to bend, if not break, in the direction in which the wind is blowing.

As we approach this macabre anniversary, let us honor Charlie’s legacy by engaging in public discourse with both our minds and our hearts. Let us allow reason and evidence to dictate our opinions, but let our hearts guide our tone and grant the benefit of the doubt to the motives of those with whom we disagree. As another victim of political assassination, Abraham Lincoln, once charged the nation, let us move forward “with malice toward none, with charity to all.” In this way, we can defeat our enemies, both domestic and foreign, and most importantly, the enemy that lurks within each of our hearts, seeking to devour us all.

Before and After

Every life has a few before-and-after moments, some that are shared with others and some that are more personal. There are some before-and-afters that seem small but which have profoundly shaped my life. Before and after discovering the world of independent film. Before and after reading Jane Austen. Before and after realizing that food from other countries is better than chicken fingers.

Some moments are deeper and more life-changing. Before and after becoming serious about my Christian faith. Before and after becoming a wife and then a mom. Before and after 9/11, an experience many of us have had, in our own way, together. Wednesday was a day of two before-and-after moments. First, one moment, I was emailing a Hillsdale donor about the impact a single life can have on the world. The next, I was reading a message from Jim saying that Charlie Kirk had been shot. Then, I got on Twitter and inadvertently watched a video of Charlie being shot. One moment, I was waxing poetical about the price of liberty and the next I was watching someone paying the ultimate price. Before and after.

While we won’t know for days, months, or even years how Charlie’s death will reverberate throughout history, I know with certainty how it will echo through mine.

The fact of his death laid bare the stakes we are playing for in our current public discord. Labels of Republican and Democrat no longer really apply. You are now either on the side of life or the side of death. The contrast is too stark to ignore. This should be good news. Surely the cause of life is something most reasonable people can rally around. Aren’t the rights to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” all things that were just stolen from Charlie Kirk, things we all want to see secured for us all? We might disagree about how to pursue those things, or how to secure them for others, but good gravy, can’t we all say in unison, “I don’t want public figures being gunned down in public because they said something someone else disagrees with”?

So I resolved that I will hold out two hands from this day forward: the first will be a fist so tight that, to quote Ferris Bueller, if it held a lump of coal “in two weeks you would have a diamond.” In that fist, I will hold my unalienable rights, given by God to me and all my fellow citizens. And those rights will only be taken from me by force. I will not strike out with that fist, but I will cling to those rights for me, for my kids, and for all my fellow Americans to whom I will extend that second hand, in an attempt to bridge whatever divide separates us—in a desire to find a way to unite around values and principles we all hold dear. I will not join with those who seek to snatch my rights of life, freedom, and expression, but I will look for common ground wherever it can be found.

I said that I experienced two before-and-after moments on Wednesday. The first when I got the news and the second when I witnessed it with my own eyes. Despite initial news to the contrary, after seeing that video, I knew that Charlie Kirk was dead. Dead and yet . . . in all the horror of that moment, I felt as if I watched Charlie come alive. And that was the second “after.” Seeing that Charlie had not lost anything and he gained everything. My second resolve was to live in the light of that reality, that I have nothing to lose that anyone can take.

In times of discouragement or doubt, I can often be found, driving with the windows down, singing badly, but with great gusto, the Avett Brothers’ song “Ain’t No Man” the chorus of which is:

There ain’t no man can save me. There ain’t no man can enslave me. Ain’t no man or men that can change the shape my soul is in. There ain’t nobody here who can cause me pain or raise my fears. ‘Cause I got only love to share.

While I usually find this song quite uplifting and inspiring, it isn’t entirely true. There is a man who can save me. A man who died for the sake of the truth, and it wasn’t Charlie Kirk. It was the man who saved Charlie and me and anyone who will call upon His name. This is the man who was waiting for Charlie on Wednesday. He is waiting for us all. And this man, Jesus Christ, said of those who will trust Him, “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.” May we all reach out, as Charlie did, and take that hand until He sees us home.