“This is a political assassination.”

September 10th, Political violence struck Utah Valley University. Charlie Kirk, the 31-year-old founder of Turning Point USA and the father of two young children, was shot dead by a sniper while talking to a student on campus. The assassin fired from the rooftop and hit Kirk. Inside your neck during a speech advocating open dialogue and discussion.

The chaos exploded quickly. One student who witnessed the shooting said, “It was a confused, people screaming, students running for cover. But what shocked me the most was just after Charlie was shot, some people began to praise him. I couldn’t believe it. The campus was in chaos and terrorism, and security teams and law enforcement were rushing to secure the area and evacuate the students.

Free speech under fire

Leaders across the political spectrum condemned the law. The governor of Utah highlighted the gravity of the killing, saying, “It’s a tragic day for our country. It’s a political assassination. Charlie Kirk was her husband and father above all else. His words reflected the sentiment of the country working on a violent attack on one of the youngest and most outspoken voices claiming freedom and intellectual debate.

Despite official denunciations, social media and public comments revealed a nasty trend. Users celebrated Kirk’s death and frawn it as justice for someone who was accused of “spreading hate speech.” He encouraged young people to think critically, debate openly, and challenge Orthodox. His true attacks cultivated independent thinking in an age when ideological suitability was often required, so he became a target to simply promote the free exchange of ideas.

President Donald Trump later spoke to the tragedy, highlighting Kirk’s influence on the generation. “Charlie was a giant of his generation, a champion of freedom and an inspiration for millions of people. The date of the ceremony will be announced. Trump’s remarks highlighted Kirk’s widespread influence beyond campus and social media, shaping the ideas of young Americans across the country.

Hypocrisy is prominent. Many voices on the political left who campaign tirelessly to condemn conservative “danger” to protect firearms rights tirelessly due to gun control, either stayed silent or celebrated when rifles were used to assassinate conservative figures. Violence is only condemned when it is convenient. It was excused or praised when it served the political agenda. The messages sent are calm. A particular life and a particular idea is considered more valuable than others, depending on the general political narrative.

Selective Anger in Tragedy

On May 25, 2020, the world saw the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer. The video spread like a wildfire, sparking global protests, knocking down statues, and sparking urgent conversations about systemic racism. Millions of people marched around the world. Companies have pledged billions of dollars in reform programs. Floyd’s name became a cry of a rally, and his death was a moment of fork, remembered as a turning point in modern American history.

Five years later, a very different murder raises awkward questions about what tragedy deserves rage and is largely ignored. On August 22, 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska was fatally stabbed on a light rail train in Charlotte. The attack was not provoked. Saltzka fled the horrors of war in Ukraine, hoping for safety and opportunities to rebuild life in the United States. Her family described her as kind, hopeful and dream-filled. The young woman overcomes immeasurable difficulties just to encounter an untimely violent death. The murderer, a black man with a volatile history, was quickly arrested and charged with first-degree murder.

However, the response from society and the media was minimal. There was no national vigil or marching demanding justice. The slogan, declared “The White Life Issues,” had no murals painted in her memory. Mainstream outlets covered the story as a local crime rather than a national tragedy, and social media involvement was low. Salzka’s death should have caused reflection on public safety, the refugee experience, and the moral obligations of society, but it barely spilled beyond the local news cycle.

Consider the contrast with George Floyd. His death was tragic, but it also suits the story of media and activists ready to expand: systemic racism, national oppression, and police brutality. Global rage continued. Millions of people marched. Corporate pledges have been made. A reform programme has been proposed. Social media exploded. It was largely ignored as Salzka’s murder didn’t fit the narrative that the media and activists were ready to tell. Kirk’s assassination was minimized or chuckled as it threatened the left story of who was “dangerous.”

The pattern is clear. Anger has become partisan. Empathy is conditional. Justice is selective. Depending on the magnitude of the tragedy, but rather whether it suits political convenience, some lives rise and others are erased. Kirk’s assassination, Salzka’s murder, Floyd’s murder, and the meaning of that is dangerous. Political violence silences ideas and lives. If society can celebrate human death to express ideas, ignore refugee murders and selectively protest based on ideology, it threatens the moral obligations of freedom of speech, civil discourse, and citizenship. Kirk’s assassination is a reminder. Political violence silences ideas, not just individuals. As the governor of Utah warned, “This is a political assassination.” These words apply not only to Kirk’s death, but also to the broader culture of selective rage. When media attention, street protests and social condemnation are applied unevenly, society risks normalizing political violence and eroding the principles in which the state was established, the right to life, freedom, and the right to free expression.

If all life is not equally relevant, the phrase “justice” has no meaning.