With Charlie Kirk’s murder, is free expression now an existential risk?

Charlie Kirk’s assassination convulsed the nation, forcing us to confront what our politics has become, where it is heading, and our responsibility in changing its course. The state of American politics is no accident. It is the product of choices we have willingly made: our words, jokes, memes, and even our applause. We feed contempt for those whose opinions differ from our own, and now we are forced to reckon with its consequences.

As a commentator on NewsNation and a former congressional candidate, these are things I think about often. Political leadership necessitates strong opinions voiced before large audiences. With that comes inevitable pushback.

In my 25 years in politics, I have been spit on, screamed at, stalked, and taunted with emails, DMs, and texts calling me a “waste of skin,” a “dumba–,” and a “fascist” who “needs to be eliminated.” Such venom is nothing new, but the threat of real violence now feels closer than ever.

Kirk’s murder forces every citizen who dares to speak in public to ask: is free expression now an existential risk?

Addressing this reality demands more than finger pointing or platitudes. What is needed is introspection, honesty, and a heaping dose of self-reflection.

Earlier this week, a Democratic Senate candidate in Michigan shouted at a rally, to cheers and applause, “When they go low, we drag them through the mud and choke them out.” That line was troubling in its own right, but in the shadow of Kirk’s death, it is bone-chilling. What does it say about our nation when an audience applauds the idea of “choking out” political opponents?

Violence and hatred are not confined by party lines. Minnesota State Rep. Melissa Hortman (D), a Democrat, and her husband were murdered in two consecutive acts of political violence. Her community reeled from the same grief that conservatives feel after Kirk’s assassination. Both tragedies remind us that political violence is not a partisan crisis, but an American crisis. And changing its course is our responsibility.

We have all bought into an outrage economy that casts political opponents not merely as wrong, but as monsters. When we strip adversaries of their humanity, political violence becomes not only imaginable but justifiable.

This explains why one-fifth of Americans believe political violence is at least sometimes justified, and nearly half say it is justified if the other party “started it.” We readily point fingers at leaders, candidates, and the media, when in truth, what we tolerate, what we repeat, and what we cheer for sets the stage for what happens in real life.

In these dark days, I lean heavily on my foundation of faith, which has taught me three lessons especially relevant now. First, truth must always be spoken in love. Second, we must work harder at becoming unoffendable. Third, genuine compassion toward those we disagree with is not weakness but strength.

It is entirely possible to argue fiercely and still care deeply for those on the other side. It just feels easier not to, in an environment filled with division and self-righteousness.

Kirk’s death did not occur in a vacuum. Nor did Hortman’s. Every time our culture cheers violent rhetoric, we redraw the boundaries of what is acceptable, and each redraw brings us closer to tragedy. If we want a different future, we must reject the easy applause lines and relearn what we teach our children: to rise above offense without striking back, to disagree without dehumanizing.

If there is to be redemption in these tragedies, it will not come from Washington. No law, no policy, no president can legislate hatred out of our hearts. That work belongs to each of us. We must hold ourselves accountable for the tone we set, in our homes, our classrooms, our workplaces, and especially online. Every post, every joke, every cheer either dignifies our democracy or corrodes it.

Ancient wisdom offers the clearest path forward: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,” as Jesus said. And “over all these things, put on love, which binds everything together in perfect unity,” as the Apostle Paul wrote.

If Charlie Kirk’s death teaches us anything, it is that America will survive only if we choose to love those we find hardest to love. That choice cannot wait. It must begin now, with you, with me, and with all who refuse to surrender America to contempt.

Denise Grace Gitsham is a NewsNation contributor, former congressional candidate, and the author of “Politics for People Who Hate Politics: How to Engage Without Losing your Friends or Selling your Soul.”