In 2024, Spencer J. Cox, the governor of Utah, spoke about disagreeing with respect, not hate, at a TED Talk conference. Cox conveyed how the extreme left and the extreme right were “undermining the validity” of the 2020 Utah gubernatorial election. In response, Cox and his opponent, Chris Peterson, filmed a political advertisement emphasizing that conflicting political views should not warrant hate. Cox shared that he was surprised to see the public’s positive response to the advertisement, stating, “I could actually feel my faith in the American idea start to rekindle.” Cox concluded his speech with a reminder that changing the world begins with changing our hearts. His message left audiences with a challenge: Can empathy and respect survive when political and moral differences feel irreconcilable?

A year later, Cox stood in front of the press to address Charlie Kirk’s death. Kirk was a right-wing activist who co-founded the conservative organization Turning Point USA. He was known for his controversial opinions, often expressed through heated political debates. Notably, he denied the existence of systemic racism, promoted traditional gender roles, and advocated for the right to bear arms.

On September 10, 2025, while giving a speech at Utah Valley University, Kirk was asked, “Do you know how many mass shooters there have been in America over the last 10 years?” He responded, “Counting or not counting gang violence?” Those were Kirk’s last words before he was shot in the neck. He died in the hospital.

The next day, 22-year-old Tyler Robinson was turned in by his family and accused of being the shooter after photos and videos were shared with the public. Footage from several angles of a figure, dressed in black, running and jumping off a roof after the bullet was fired. Robinson’s upbringing, filled with rigid conservative beliefs, offers context for his actions. Raised by Republican parents who valued guns and traditional beliefs, Robinson grew up in an environment where hostility towards difference was justified. These values hardened into a perspective where violence was a legitimate response to disagreement. In alleged text messages with his partner, Robinson stated, “I had enough of his hatred. Some hate can’t be negotiated out.” His rhetoric exposes how political ideology can collapse empathy and promote violence. 

America was, and continues to be, in an uproar regarding Kirk’s death. Some mourn him and empathize with his cause, saying he was only practicing his right to free speech. Others lack any empathy, arguing that his death was merely a manifestation of his beliefs. Those in the latter group often quote one of Kirk’s most controversial statements as justification: “I think it’s worth to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the Second Amendment to protect our other God-given rights.” The nationwide split reveals something essential: empathy may not be owed to Kirk as a person, but it is absolutely owed to the larger human suffering caused by the very violence he defended.

Kirk’s death and Robinson’s arrest quickly became more than just a tragic crime; they sparked a conversation around political ideology, violence, and empathy. The public’s reaction exposed how Americans assign compassion, with some mourning Kirk as a victim and others dismissing his death as a consequence of his own rhetoric. Most notably, Cox spoke in a press conference after Robinson’s arrest, “​​I was praying… that it wouldn’t be one of us—that somebody drove from another state, somebody came from another country.” Cox, who once passionately argued for respectful disagreement, insinuated that he wished Kirk’s killer were not a conservative, white man—that it would have been better if Robinson were part of “the other.” The problem, then, is not only a lack of empathy from those who do not mourn Kirk, but also ignorance from those who do. Charlie Kirk’s death highlighted how quickly empathy can become conditional and how easily Americans slip into an “us versus them” narrative.

Violence is deeply rooted in America’s creation and history. From the beginning of their education, the American youth are taught about rebellion and revolution. Every year, citizens celebrate America’s Day of Independence, a victory after the end of a gruesome war that left thousands dead. Americans are unconsciously conditioned to believe that violence gets results—that there will be no change without brutality. As long as violence remains a celebrated part of our national story, empathy for victims will always be inconsistent.

Unfortunately, these ideals have gone unchecked by both the law and those who uphold it. Since Donald Trump’s victory in the 2024 national election, most have lost hope for justice. Today’s political climate is full of hypocrisy and division, undermining the ‘United’ in the United States of America. A clear example is the presidential reaction to Kirk’s death in contrast to Minnesota state Rep. Melissa Hortman’s murder. While Trump ordered the U.S. flag to be flown at half-staff in honor of Kirk, he claimed he was “not familiar” with Hortman or her case. Hortman was the 61st speaker of the Minnesota House of Representatives from 2019 to 2025. In June 2025, she was shot in her home, along with her husband, Mark, and her dog. The difference in Trump’s reaction to the two deaths demonstrates that empathy is selectively distributed along political lines, and compassion in America is transactional.

For many Americans, there is a struggle to feel empathy for Kirk, a man who spewed hatred and died as a result of it. How can the public empathize when, on the same day of Kirk’s death, a 16-year-old spent nine minutes firing rounds inside a Colorado high school? Kirk fought for the rights of Robinson, and he justified the deaths of the school shootings. Can we, as a society, shame those who do not mourn him? Can we, as a society, empathize with both victims? Or is it only another example of the hypocrisy plaguing America? The answer may lie in distinguishing between empathizing with an individual and empathizing with the broader crisis. We may not have to mourn Kirk himself, but we must mourn what his death represents: another life lost to America’s obsession with violence.

A lack of empathy and a surplus of ignorance have gradually poisoned the pillars of America: democracy, unity, and justice. Without change, without waking up from dreams of violence and cruelty, our society will collapse. Cox’s TED Talk closed with the belief that “changing the world begins with changing our hearts.” His words now serve as both warning and invitation: America cannot survive on selective empathy. We must learn to extend empathy, not necessarily to every figure, but always to the suffering caused by violence itself.