Moments before the crack of a gunshot changed everything, thousands of students had gathered under clear blue skies at an idyllic Utah college to hear from a man considered a rock star in conservative campus politics. As the 31-year-old Charlie Kirk sat under a tent, debating political opponents taking their turn at a microphone, many gathered on the lawns cheered – and some protested. Seconds later, they were all running in terror. The activist was struck in the neck by a bullet, mortally wounded. The episode playing out as cameras rolled, some showing the murder in bloody detail. The images will be hard to forget — particularly for the many young conservatives for whom Kirk held celebrity status. The leader of their movement, regardless of the ultimate motive behind his killing, will now be viewed as a martyr for the cause. Kirk, in the past, had warned of what he said was the threat of violence from his critics – of which he had many, given his provocative style of conservativism. Nonetheless he was willing to travel to college campuses, where the politics frequently tilt to the left, and debate all comers. He was an advocate of gun rights and conservative values, an outspoken critic of transgender rights, and a staunch, unapologetic Donald Trump supporter. His Turning Point US organisation played a key role in the voter turnout drive that saw the president return to the White House this year. The tent where he was shot had "prove me wrong" emblazoned on it. He was a hero to young conservative students in particular, meeting them where they were and offering them a movement of their own. Kirk's killing is both another episode of shocking gun violence in America – and the latest in an ever-lengthening line of recent political violence. Earlier this year two Democratic state legislators in Minnesota were shot in their homes – with one dying from her wounds. Last year, Donald Trump was twice the target of assassination attempts. His brush with a bullet at an outdoor rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, bears striking similarities to Wednesday's shooting in Utah – both playing out before gathered crowds at outdoor venues. Two years before that, a hammer-wielding assailant broke in to the home of then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, a prominent Democrat. In 2017, a man opened fire on Republican congressmen practicing on a northern Virginia baseball field. It is difficult to divine where American politics goes from here, but the trajectory is bleak. Violence begets violence. Increasingly divisive rhetoric, fuelled by social media echo chambers and easy access to firearms, leads to raw nerves and a heightened potential for bloodshed. Conservative activists are reconsidering what security measures are necessary for public appearances, just as many local politicians did after the Minnesota shootings. But the Butler attempt on Trump's life was nearly successful, despite trained local and federal security forces on the scene. If there is a sense that no-one is safe – that public life itself has become a blood sport – that will have its own corrosive effect on American politics. Trump, in a video address from the Oval Office posted on his Truth Social website on Wednesday night, called the killing a "dark moment for America". But he wasted little time in blaming the "radical left" for Kirk's murder. He ticked through some of the recent instances of political violence — those that targeted conservatives — and said his administration would find "each and every one of those who contributed to this atrocity and to other political violence". Those comments are sure to be welcomed by those on the right who in the hours after the shooting called for a crackdown on left-wing groups. "It is time, within the confines of the law, to infiltrate, disrupt, arrest and incarcerate all of those who are responsible for this chaos," conservative activist Christopher Rufo wrote on X. Many prominent Republicans and Democrats, including potential 2028 presidential contenders, lined up to condemn political violence and call for a cooling of rhetoric. But in Congress on Wednesday evening, a moment of silence for Kirk was quickly followed by a shouting match between lawmakers — a further indication that partisan tensions are still high. Meanwhile, in Utah, witnesses, law enforcement and state and local leaders continue to come to grips with the trauma of the day. In emotional remarks during a press conference, Governor Spencer Cox – who has frequently spoken out against overheated political rhetoric and political divisiveness – described a nation, soon to celebrate a milestone anniversary of its founding, that is "broken". "Is this it?" he asked. "Is this what 250 years has wrought upon us?" "I pray that is not the case," he answered. The doubt in his voice underscored the simple truth that, on this day, the future of America and whether its violent politics can be fixed seems far from certain. — BBC
