In Defense of True Dialogue: Why Charlie Kirk's Methods Should Not Be Our Model
In our collective shock at yet another shooting, we must not make a critical error: conflating condemnation of political violence with endorsement of Kirk's approach to political engagement.
On the same day Charlie Kirk was killed, there was yet another school shooting in Colorado in which two young people were critically injured. Two weeks before, there was a mass shooting at a Catholic church in Minnesota where two children were killed and 21 other people were injured. Yet Kirk's murder is the only instance of gun violence over this period that has been treated as a national tragedy deserving of prolonged mourning and wall-to-wall media coverage. US President Donald Trump refused to allow flags to fly at half-mast on his inauguration to honor Jimmy Carter but demanded that on September 11, the anniversary of the attack on New York City, flags be lowered for Charlie Kirk.
Political violence is never acceptable, and as researcher Erika Chenoweth has demonstrated, it is not an effective way to enact social change. While Kirk's death represents a dangerous escalation in our national discourse that further threatens our fragile democratic foundations, how we talk about it will determine whether we move toward our shared humanity or whether we reinforce the dehumanizing context that Kirk himself, along with Trump, contributed to creating.
In our collective shock at yet another shooting, we must not make a critical error: conflating condemnation of political violence with endorsement of Kirk's approach to political engagement. As voices across the political spectrum, including that of Ezra Klein, have rushed to characterize Kirk as someone who was "practicing politics in exactly the right way," we risk elevating a model of engagement that was antithetical to the kind of meaningful dialogue our democracy desperately needs right now.
As an educator who has spent years understanding and facilitating genuine political dialogue, I feel compelled to speak up. We stand at a crossroads where our response to this moment will shape how we understand political engagement going forward. We can choose to learn from this moment—to honestly name political polarization as an urgent crisis requiring our collective attention, and to truthfully acknowledge how Trump, his MAGA movement, and weaponized social media have directly fueled this polarization. Or we can miss this crucial opportunity for thoughtful national reflection and make the devastating mistake of holding up Kirk's methods as an example to follow.
What Real Dialogue Looks Like
Extensive research in psychology has given us clear insights into what constitutes meaningful political dialogue. Patricia Gurin, Biren Nagda, and Ximena Zúñiga's groundbreaking work on intergroup dialogue shows that structured conversations across differences can foster insight into others' worldviews, increase empathy, and motivate collaborative action toward equity and justice.
In my classroom, if someone acted the way Kirk did with students, I would feel obligated to redirect the conversation back to our class agreements about respectful dialogue,
Dr. Tania Israel, whose research forms the foundation for meaningful cross-political conversation, emphasizes that true dialogue requires active listening, "listening to understand instead of listening to respond." It involves creating space for elaboration through open-ended questions, demonstrating genuine curiosity about different perspectives, and building the kind of connection that allows people to share their stories and values authentically.
This is not what Kirk practiced. What Kirk did on college campuses was not dialogue, it was performance art designed for viral content and ideological point scoring. His social media accounts documented a consistent pattern of cruel, confrontational bullying that prioritized entertainment value over genuine understanding.
The Kirk Model: Bullying as Entertainment, Not Engagement
An examination of Kirk's campus appearances reveals a pattern that consistently violated the basic principles of respectful dialogue. Faculty members who witnessed his events noted that Kirk routinely interrupted students, mocked young people for entertainment value, and engaged in what can only be described as organized bullying. His "prove me wrong" format was designed not to genuinely engage with differing viewpoints, but to create gotcha moments that would play well on social media. Like Trump, he was first and foremost a social media influencer.
In my classroom, if someone acted the way Kirk did with students, I would feel obligated to redirect the conversation back to our class agreements about respectful dialogue, agreements that establish ground rules ensuring no one's humanity is denied and no one's reality is erased. Kirk's approach consistently violated these basic principles of respectful discourse.
Students at California State University, Northridge recognized this when they organized against his appearance on their campus, noting that Kirk had routinely engaged in antisemitic conspiracy theories, racist rhetoric against civil rights, and discriminatory language targeting LGBTQ+ students. These weren't political differences; they were fundamental violations of the respect required for genuine dialogue.
The Dangerous False Equivalence
As journalist Maria Ressa reminds us, good journalism requires a courageous commitment to facts and ethical standards in the face of disinformation. Its central mission is to hold power accountable and serve as a bulwark against democracy's erosion. Yet in the aftermath of Kirk's death, much of our media has failed this test by creating a false equivalence between condemning political violence and celebrating Kirk's methods.
How can we discuss the conditions that led to political violence while celebrating someone whose entire approach was designed to demean and dehumanize his political opponents?
Columnist Jamelle Bouie captured the essence of this problem: "That the Trump administration and the MAGA movement are less interested in deliberation and governance than they are in domination and obedience should shape and structure our sense of this political moment." When one faction's explicit goal is to curb the rights of opponents and force them into political inequality, calls for dialogue that deny that reality are harmful.
Kirk was not engaged in the kind of good-faith dialogue that democracy requires. He was, as Bouie notes, part of a movement more interested in domination than deliberation. His campus appearances were not exercises in democratic engagement, and no, he was not practicing politics the right way. Kirk’s campus appearances were trolling operations designed to humiliate and dehumanize students who disagreed with him.
The Stakes of Getting This Wrong
As we grapple with the epidemic of gun violence, school shootings, and the dismantling of democratic norms, we cannot afford to elevate models of engagement that contributed to these problems. How can we address the tragedy of bullying in schools—which then contributes to school shootings—while simultaneously holding up someone who made his career bullying college students? How can we discuss the conditions that led to political violence while celebrating someone whose entire approach was designed to demean and dehumanize his political opponents?
My friend recently told me that "a neighborhood is resistance." This resonated deeply because it speaks to the patient, relationship-building work that real democratic engagement requires. Kirk's approach was the opposite—designed to break down communities and relationships for entertainment value. He dehumanized students to generate viral content, endearing himself to Trump and the MAGA movement that thrives on such cruelty.
A Path Forward
We all want to talk to each other. We see this in our neighborhoods—we nod to one another, notice when someone hasn't been around, look out for each other. This fundamental human desire for connection is precisely why we must distinguish between genuine dialogue and its performative imitations. True dialogue, as Dr. Israel's research demonstrates, requires communication strategies that emphasize active listening, acknowledge differences while finding common ground, and approach disagreement with intellectual humility rather than ideological dominance—the opposite of what Kirk's social media documented from his campus visits.
Political violence is never acceptable and will not move us toward justice. And importantly, a majority of political violence is perpetrated by the right-wing extremists and Trump’s MAGA movement has contributed to the conditions of this violence. Such violence reflects the brokenness of our system and the urgent need for repair. But we must not respond to this tragedy by celebrating Kirk's mockery of political engagement. There should be no statues erected in his honor on college campuses, no elevation of his name alongside figures like Martin Luther King Jr. who actually advanced democratic discourse. Kirk's methods were not a model for democratic engagement, they were part of the problem that contributed to our current crisis.
The memory we should be blessing is not that of viral confrontations and campus trolling, but of the patient, respectful work of building bridges across difference.
If we truly want to honor democratic dialogue in the wake of this tragedy, we must commit to the harder work of genuine conversation—the kind that builds understanding rather than scoring points, that creates community rather than destroying it, and that treats our political opponents as fellow human beings rather than targets for entertainment. This stands in stark contrast to Kirk's approach, which was designed precisely to bolster his influence within the Trump ecosystem through cruelty and division.
A free society depends on our ability to engage across difference without fear of violence. But it also depends on our commitment to engagement that is grounded in respect, curiosity, and genuine democratic values. In this moment of national reckoning, we must choose models that build democracy rather than undermine it.
The memory we should be blessing is not that of viral confrontations and campus trolling, but of the patient, respectful work of building bridges across difference. That is the dialogue our democracy needs, and it's the opposite of what Charlie Kirk practiced.
