Killing a man does not kill his words, his ideas, or his values. You may take his life, but in return you establish his legacy.
Charlie Kirk never hid from a debate. He never shied away from a challenge. That’s the thing about good ideas—and, furthermore, about Truth—it doesn’t need to hide behind censorship, and it never needs to win by force or violence.
To some, Charlie was everything wrong with our society: a young, successful man with a happy and healthy family, a faith he shared publicly, and an audience who listened to him—all without spending a cent on a college education. To me, Charlie was proof that faith, hard work, responsibility, ownership, and strong principles are the foundation of a good life.
Charlie stood for freedom for everyone, regardless of race, gender, faith, or political ideology. He stood for those who couldn’t stand for themselves—for the vulnerable and the voiceless. Charlie embodied what I believe to be a revelation of the innate value and dignity of every human being, imbued in them by the God who created them: the imago Dei.
Many have been called martyrs in recent memory, but these individuals did not truly stand for anything. They did not die for any cause or advance any societal improvements. Their lives were retrospectively defined by the politicking that surrounded their deaths, used posthumously to advance causes they never advocated for with their own breath.
Charlie believed in a liberty that all could take hold of. He believed in freedom for all who would steward it, treasure it, and fight for it. Charlie spoke clearly and confidently despite accusations of “hate-crimes” or “violence” supposedly carried out against certain groups with his words. Yet he welcomed these criticisms and responses—he even shared his platform with his opponents to make them publicly and directly to his face. Because Charlie knew an all-important truth: words are not violence. Words and ideas are not akin to physical assault, property damage, and definitely not murder.
Charlie used the power of speech to better understand, engage with, and educate his opponents. He exemplified that when speech is free, people are free to expose their bad thoughts, true intentions, and misunderstandings. He showed that a true free speech champion listens, seeks to understand, allows disagreement, and is willing to admit when they are wrong or have more to learn. And Charlie embodied what it means to stand strong in your convictions and share your perspectives boldly.
Charlie, while here, made sure there was no confusion about what he stood for. That’s why you won’t see citywide riots or local businesses looted and burned in his name. You won’t see revenge shootings or calls to defund institutions in his name. You won’t see sham charities set up to exploit his supporters, enriching their founders under the guise of honouring him.
No—the legacy of Charlie’s life will be one of faith and liberty. Those who seek to honour Charlie and his memory will do so by living out the lessons he taught: lessons of patience in the face of unreasonable opposition, compassion toward those deceived by the world, humility when thrust into the spotlight, and boldness and courage when persecuted or criticised for holding personal faith.
Charlie was a titan in the fight for liberty, and his voice and presence will be sorely missed. His life was far too short, but his death will not be in vain. What he stood for, fought for, and died for will continue to be championed and advanced by those he leaves behind—because killing a man does not kill his words, his ideas, or his values. You may take his life, but in return you establish his legacy.