I’ve been sitting with the news of Charlie Kirk’s assassination and what it says about how we talk about “political violence” in America. Here are some reflections I wanted to share.
Kirk's assassination is a tragedy, and it deserves to be condemned without qualification. Violence of this kind cannot be normalized in a society that claims to be democratic. Taking a life in the name of politics crosses a moral and civic boundary that must remain firm if there is to be any hope of building a better future.
At the same time, there is a bitter irony worth acknowledging. Kirk built his wealth and notoriety by vilifying vulnerable populations—immigrants, queer people, women, and the marginalized more broadly. He profited from stoking fear and resentment, often punching down at those without access to the kind of platforms and protections that shield figures like him. So while his death is an act of political violence, it forces us to think about how America defines that term, and when it chooses to use it.
The way political violence is discussed in the United States is deeply one-sided. When a powerful figure is attacked, we quickly and universally call it political violence. But when violence flows downward—when the state or its agents inflict it upon marginalized groups—we rarely frame it that way. Instead, we call it “policy,” “law enforcement,” or “budget cuts.” Yet political violence occurs daily in plain sight, and most of the time it originates from institutions of power rather than lone actors.
Consider the act of tearing families apart through mass deportations—200,000 law-abiding, tax-paying immigrants forced from their homes and communities. That is political violence. When lawmakers strip millions of Americans of access to life-saving medications in order to finance tax breaks for the ultra-rich, that is political violence. When law enforcement use skin color or spoken language as shorthand for criminality, targeting people on nothing more than appearance or accent, that is political violence.
The assault on LGBTQ+ rights—laws erasing trans identities from public life, bans on gender-affirming care, attempts to criminalize teachers for acknowledging queer existence—these too are political violence. So are the relentless efforts to eliminate women’s reproductive freedoms, forcing people into dangerous and unwanted pregnancies. And when the president threatens to send the military into democratically governed cities while draping himself in the language of war, that is political violence at its most brazen.
To recognize these acts for what they are does not diminish the horror of Kirk’s assassination. But it does demand consistency. If we are serious about condemning political violence, we cannot only mourn it when it wounds the powerful. We must also see it in the everyday harm inflicted from above, where policies and state actions quietly shatter lives without ever being called what they are.
part one:
Trump Says America’s Oil Industry Is Cleaner Than Other Countries’. New Data Shows Massive Emissions From Texas Wells The oil industry touts Texas as a success story in controlling climate-warming methane emissions. The state’s regulator, however, grants nearly every request to burn or vent gas into the atmosphere.