Thank you for this Lexi, indeed horrible. It joins a number of murders this year in the name of self-imposed justice. And it is sad to see the amount of people who are justifying them - "this is terrible, but..." It is imperative for us to relearn to see the human spark in the other, beyond political, religious and national differences. I'm glad your book is making headway - efforts like yours are bringing hope to this country.
Thank you for this thoughtful note. You’re right — one of the most corrosive patterns today is the “this is terrible, but…” reflex, where compassion is made conditional on political agreement. That qualifier erodes our moral clarity.
What you describe — seeing the human spark in the other — is exactly the truth I hoped The Soul of Civility would help people recover. Every life has dignity that precedes politics, religion, or nationality. If we cannot affirm that, even in those with whom we most disagree, we risk normalizing the very dehumanization that makes violence possible.
I’m encouraged that people like you see the urgency of this work. It will take all of us, in our own communities, refusing the “but” and choosing instead to say: a human life lost is a tragedy, full stop.
Thank you for this — I completely agree. There are no “buts” when it comes to condemning violence. The moment we qualify it, we begin to shift responsibility onto the victim and diminish the irreducible worth of human life.
That’s why I’ve tried to emphasize that empathy is not endorsement. To grieve a loss of life is not to excuse someone’s rhetoric or politics — it is to uphold the principle that every person’s dignity must be protected, or none of ours is secure.
Thank you for joining the conversation and for being part of this community. I agree with you wholeheartedly: the violence in our country must stop.
At the same time, I think it’s vital to hold two truths together. We can strongly critique rhetoric we believe is harmful while still saying that a murder is wrong, full stop. If we begin to make empathy contingent on political alignment, we risk eroding the very moral foundation that allows us to condemn hate-filled words in the first place.
For me, this is what civility requires: the courage to disagree with conviction while never losing sight of the humanity in the person across from us.
No decent person should greet a murder with anything but grief, and I share in mourning the tragic killing of Charlie Kirk. His wife and children deserve compassion, not vitriol. Yet it is precisely here that your eulogy stumbles: to frame Kirk as a champion of civility is to overwrite the record of his public life.
Kirk made a career out of polarization, inflaming divisions for profit and power! However earnestly you invoke Daryl Davis or the language of dignity, it strains belief to cast Kirk in their company. Civility is not mere tone—it is a practice of truthfulness and restraint. To defend it while exalting a figure who trafficked in contempt undermines the very ideals you champion. Honor his humanity, yes. But honesty demands we not confuse the hope of civility with the politics of provocation that defined him.
Thanks as always for your reflection, William. I argued Kirk’s death emblematic of our crisis of dehumanization, and I’d push back on any interpretation otherwise.
Thanks for your thoughtful note. I don’t dispute that Kirk’s death is emblematic of our crisis of dehumanization. But I’d add this: yes, he sometimes showed patience with critics, and the clips of him counseling students gently are real. Those moments, however, were exceptions, not the rule. His career was built on turning politics into a contest of “us versus them”—from tossing MAGA hats into crowds to staging “prove me wrong” debates that thrived on spectacle and division.
That’s why I see him less as a bridge-builder than as an accelerant of the very crisis you name. Looking opponents straight in the eye with a smile while quoting Jesus was biding his time. His death is tragic. Division was his legacy.
Thank you for engaging this conversation with such seriousness. I share your conviction that civility is not tone alone but truthfulness and restraint — and I agree, Charlie Kirk’s public rhetoric often sowed division. Honesty requires saying that plainly.
But here is where I think we must draw a hard line: his murder is a tragedy, full stop. No ifs, ands, or buts. The moment we begin to qualify violence with ideological disclaimers, we slide into victim-blaming — as if a person’s views might somehow make their death less grievous. That logic erodes the irreducible worth of human life, and once we allow it, none of us is safe.
This isn’t just a moral question, but a civic one. Democracies die when political violence is normalized, when citizens come to believe that force rather than persuasion decides who belongs in public life. Whatever we think of Kirk’s politics, the rise in political violence across the spectrum should sober us all. To excuse one act because we dislike its target is to invite the next act against someone we love.
Civility begins here: mourning loss without condition, honoring dignity without exception, and committing to a society where arguments are met with arguments — never with bullets.
Of course Kirk’s murder is a tragedy. But to mourn without condition is not to remember without judgment. He built a career on ridiculing opponents and inflaming division; those weren’t slips of the tongue but deliberate signals of contempt.
Political violence must never be excused. But neither should we confuse tragedy with innocence. To acknowledge division as his legacy is not to justify his death — it is to refuse the amnesia that lets cruelty pass for courage.
Thank you for this Lexi, indeed horrible. It joins a number of murders this year in the name of self-imposed justice. And it is sad to see the amount of people who are justifying them - "this is terrible, but..." It is imperative for us to relearn to see the human spark in the other, beyond political, religious and national differences. I'm glad your book is making headway - efforts like yours are bringing hope to this country.
Thank you for this thoughtful note. You’re right — one of the most corrosive patterns today is the “this is terrible, but…” reflex, where compassion is made conditional on political agreement. That qualifier erodes our moral clarity.
What you describe — seeing the human spark in the other — is exactly the truth I hoped The Soul of Civility would help people recover. Every life has dignity that precedes politics, religion, or nationality. If we cannot affirm that, even in those with whom we most disagree, we risk normalizing the very dehumanization that makes violence possible.
I’m encouraged that people like you see the urgency of this work. It will take all of us, in our own communities, refusing the “but” and choosing instead to say: a human life lost is a tragedy, full stop.
I agree that the violence in our country must stop. But, Charlie Kirk’s rhetoric was extremist and hate-filled.
There are no buts. When you start prevaricating with the language of buts you’re justifying violence.
Thank you for this — I completely agree. There are no “buts” when it comes to condemning violence. The moment we qualify it, we begin to shift responsibility onto the victim and diminish the irreducible worth of human life.
That’s why I’ve tried to emphasize that empathy is not endorsement. To grieve a loss of life is not to excuse someone’s rhetoric or politics — it is to uphold the principle that every person’s dignity must be protected, or none of ours is secure.
Thank you for joining the conversation and for being part of this community. I agree with you wholeheartedly: the violence in our country must stop.
At the same time, I think it’s vital to hold two truths together. We can strongly critique rhetoric we believe is harmful while still saying that a murder is wrong, full stop. If we begin to make empathy contingent on political alignment, we risk eroding the very moral foundation that allows us to condemn hate-filled words in the first place.
For me, this is what civility requires: the courage to disagree with conviction while never losing sight of the humanity in the person across from us.
No decent person should greet a murder with anything but grief, and I share in mourning the tragic killing of Charlie Kirk. His wife and children deserve compassion, not vitriol. Yet it is precisely here that your eulogy stumbles: to frame Kirk as a champion of civility is to overwrite the record of his public life.
Kirk made a career out of polarization, inflaming divisions for profit and power! However earnestly you invoke Daryl Davis or the language of dignity, it strains belief to cast Kirk in their company. Civility is not mere tone—it is a practice of truthfulness and restraint. To defend it while exalting a figure who trafficked in contempt undermines the very ideals you champion. Honor his humanity, yes. But honesty demands we not confuse the hope of civility with the politics of provocation that defined him.
Thanks as always for your reflection, William. I argued Kirk’s death emblematic of our crisis of dehumanization, and I’d push back on any interpretation otherwise.
Thanks for your thoughtful note. I don’t dispute that Kirk’s death is emblematic of our crisis of dehumanization. But I’d add this: yes, he sometimes showed patience with critics, and the clips of him counseling students gently are real. Those moments, however, were exceptions, not the rule. His career was built on turning politics into a contest of “us versus them”—from tossing MAGA hats into crowds to staging “prove me wrong” debates that thrived on spectacle and division.
That’s why I see him less as a bridge-builder than as an accelerant of the very crisis you name. Looking opponents straight in the eye with a smile while quoting Jesus was biding his time. His death is tragic. Division was his legacy.
Thank you for engaging this conversation with such seriousness. I share your conviction that civility is not tone alone but truthfulness and restraint — and I agree, Charlie Kirk’s public rhetoric often sowed division. Honesty requires saying that plainly.
But here is where I think we must draw a hard line: his murder is a tragedy, full stop. No ifs, ands, or buts. The moment we begin to qualify violence with ideological disclaimers, we slide into victim-blaming — as if a person’s views might somehow make their death less grievous. That logic erodes the irreducible worth of human life, and once we allow it, none of us is safe.
This isn’t just a moral question, but a civic one. Democracies die when political violence is normalized, when citizens come to believe that force rather than persuasion decides who belongs in public life. Whatever we think of Kirk’s politics, the rise in political violence across the spectrum should sober us all. To excuse one act because we dislike its target is to invite the next act against someone we love.
Civility begins here: mourning loss without condition, honoring dignity without exception, and committing to a society where arguments are met with arguments — never with bullets.
Of course Kirk’s murder is a tragedy. But to mourn without condition is not to remember without judgment. He built a career on ridiculing opponents and inflaming division; those weren’t slips of the tongue but deliberate signals of contempt.
Political violence must never be excused. But neither should we confuse tragedy with innocence. To acknowledge division as his legacy is not to justify his death — it is to refuse the amnesia that lets cruelty pass for courage.