If high school me ever thought I’d be quoting Ben Shapiro in an article, and not vehemently disagreeing with him, she’d be seriously worried.
Just hours after Charlie Kirk was assassinated, Shapiro wrote in the Free Press that he never felt unsafe while debating in public, “because to do so would be to accept–even consider–the idea that an American would truly harm someone simply for speaking freely in the United States of America.”
This struck a chord with me. Ben Shapiro struck a chord with me. My younger self shuddered.
For a couple of years now, I’ve felt myself slowly sliding towards the center on a lot of spectrums. It wasn’t the first time a notably ‘conservative’ writer managed to convince me of something. It wasn’t the first time I’ve felt uncomfortable in left-leaning political conversations.
Why this parasocial interaction with Ben Shapiro had such an impact on me, I was only just figuring out, I suspected it had to do with the immediate negative reaction I felt to agreeing with ‘the other.’ For a split second, it felt wrong to agree with someone I was supposed to disagree with.
This exact thinking is what brought us to where we are today. The very idea of ‘othering’ our political opponents is absurd, but it’s so ingrained in today’s polarized world that it was my gut reaction.
The assassination of Charlie Kirk has changed this for me, though. I always knew who he was, but I had categorized him as an ‘other’ far too soon. I thought only of what we disagreed on – which continues to be a lot – and failed to see what unites us. Only after he was murdered did it become clear that despite my disdain for much of what Kirk stood for, we were bound by something more important: the belief in the American project and the drive to change our country for the better, however we saw fit.
Regardless of whether I think Kirk’s views were dangerous or if I thought he was hypocritical, he tapped into a virtue our politics badly needs — open civic engagement. American democracy was built on free debate. Charlie Kirk going out of his way to engage in it is something every American should agree this country needs more of.
And in a political climate this extreme, the old binaries collapse; the divide is no longer ‘liberal’ versus ‘conservative,’ but between those who defend open debate and those who would silence it with violence. As the temperature of this country rises, I fear how many more Charlie Kirks will be lost before we recognize the danger of such ‘othering.’
In an effort to understand young conservatives, I spoke with a few students who were moved by Charlie Kirk, not just in his death.
Nathan Planer, a senior studying finance, admired Kirk for “his willingness to speak to anyone at any point about anything. He wanted to protect the marketplace of ideas, which has not been the safest place, necessarily, in American society in recent years.”
Juju Freilich, a senior studying Human Development, shared similar sentiments, adding that he “even puts his microphone down while others were speaking so that they could finish their thoughts.”
Kirk was known for setting up a chair in public spaces and giving a microphone to anybody willing to debate him. During his American Comeback Tour, he planned to invite students to ‘prove him wrong’ on a whole host of topics, but was murdered at Utah Valley University, his first stop.
More impressive than Kirk stationing himself in the middle of a college campus are the students themselves, who were eager to talk. They walk up to a professional debater as cameras are rolling, and willingly engage in conversation, knowing that Kirk would score a lot of points back home if he ‘owned the Libs.’ The pool of people willing to debate is shrinking. If a student comes from a far-left political scene, the act of conversing with their political opponent directly violates anti-normalization policies they likely have in place. For these people, it becomes spiritually challenging to engage with someone who holds different political beliefs. Like they’re betraying something by having a civil debate.
Planer echoed this point.“Yelling and screaming and kicking your feet and saying, ‘don’t talk to me, fascist!’ is not going to accomplish anything. It’s just going to keep me on my side, alienated from you, a person with whom I want to exchange ideas. And it keeps you alienated from someone else who might be able to expand your horizons.”
We discussed how rare it is to find young people, growing increasingly more extreme in their beliefs, who are willing to have a conversation with someone from the other side. As a student journalist writing for a Jewish publication, I’ve never once been able to get a pro-Palestinian activist on this campus to sit down with me, even off the record. After two years of failed attempts at a conversation, I’ve realized they refuse because they hate me. Or, they think I hate them.
Planer wishes more people understood that, in his view, conservatives aren’t usually in the business of hate.
“I don’t hate someone who’s a socialist. I think they believe in something that’s probably economically dangerous for a society. But, you know, let’s talk it out. Let’s talk about why it’s a bad idea.”
Freilich worried about being misunderstood as a conservative student on campus. “I feel as though if I share my views, people will think that I’m a bad person,” she told me.
Although I’m a liberal, and my views typically aren’t the ones being shamed, her concern resonates deeply with me. Once I’ve been outed as a Zionist, it’s only a matter of time before I have to reassure people that I don’t revel in the sight of dead children and starving people. I have to prove my humanity before getting a chance to share my ideas, and even then, they don’t hold as much weight because of who I am, a Jew.
Through this conversation with Freilich, I realized that she experiences a similar phenomenon as a conservative college student. Afraid of genuine retribution from her peers, she keeps her mouth shut, effectively stunting the discourse we all desperately need. The very act of challenging someone’s opinion, and letting yours be challenged in turn, is what keeps democracy alive.
Spaces for earnest open debate are shrinking, especially on college campuses, yet it’s the very thing that shapes well-informed political beliefs. A policy that goes through the wringer of left-wing and right-wing hardliners will emerge more well-rounded, pragmatic, and effective. An opinion that gets challenged becomes stronger, especially if it changes slightly in the process.
Freilich shared of Kirk’s impact on her, “Charlie’s work helped me, a college student, understand political issues. He taught me that everybody’s voice should be heard, no matter the political views. Listening to different people’s opinions on certain matters taught me how to think critically about political issues to form my own opinions.”
Planer told me about the role Kirk played in the recent years of his political journey. “I’ve been a few things throughout my life. A constitutionalist, a conservative, a classical liberal, whatever title you want to put on it. I’ve been MAGA, been not MAGA, it’s changed. But he’s made me more of a free speech absolutist.”
Planer believes the emphasis on defending free speech has a uniquely unifying power. “You want people just to come together, especially in times that are extremely polarized. It’s probably the most uniting factor, and it’s super important to defend.”
The fact that Charlie Kirk was murdered while he was engaging in political discourse is the most concerning aspect of this tragic ordeal. As Shapiro wrote in the Free Press, he couldn’t even imagine an American citizen would consider crossing this line.
Freleich believes “the First Amendment is something that Americans should be proud of and people shouldn’t get killed for saying what they believe.”
Two conservative students on campus, Ben Shapiro, and I, all seemed to be in a very similar place. The aftershock of Kirk’s assassination will be felt for a while, and it will change a lot. The Trump administration is using it as an opportunity to crack down on left-wing dissent, while some radicalized youth are inspired by the brazen violence. Both reactions are terrifying. I want this dark moment to not have happened for nothing.
I spoke with my peers about the changes we want to see in the aftermath of Kirk’s murder.
Freilich shared her hope for the future with me. “College students like me should start to engage in open, respectful dialogue with others and make sure that people understand all sides of political issues.”
Planer, while he shared the same hope, argued for something more. “Frankly, I think there needs to be a massive recalibration of how people understand difference in this country.”
The factors that differentiate us from others can serve as many things. We agreed that in our young-adult lives, society has chosen to view differences as reasons to divide us and categorize us. When judging a person, we’ve paid far too much attention to their identity than to their character. Planer believes that a greater commitment to the defense of free speech can give us a fresh perspective on how we can unite through our differences.
“Treat speech like its holy. Everyone has a right to it. Everyone should treat each other respectfully when they are doing it. Everyone should think very, very carefully about what they’re actually saying before they say it,” Planer told me.
My conversations with Freilich and Planer gave me a newfound commitment to bridge the gaps between our differences. Publishing this article is a baby step in the right direction. Even as I’m writing this, and my neighbors in class are peering over my shoulders, one classmate to my left thought what I was writing was “very inflammatory.” The classmate to my right, however, told me it was good to share these perspectives.
I chuckled. My younger self suddenly felt more at peace in my new reality. I couldn’t have asked for better proof that I was doing the right thing.
Because I could never put it more succinctly than Planer did, I will leave you with the following warning, in his words.
“The erosion of free speech leads to the erosion of society.”
In the wake of this dark moment, we must recommit ourselves to fostering open political dialogue. But in doing so, we can’t allow ourselves to lose our moral clarity. We need to have the strength to lean into difficult conversations, but still know the difference between right and wrong.
