The past few days have delivered shocks that leave anyone who still believes in decency and basic human dignity with a sense of outrage, sorrow, and urgency. When I think about the murder of Iryna Zarutska, a young Ukrainian refugee who came to the United States hoping for safety and a future, only to be brutally stabbed to death on a train. What makes this even more infuriating and heartbreaking is that he was free despite multiple arrests and convictions, free under a system that often treats ideology and policy over responsibility and public safety, that had let someone clearly dangerous wander. And then about the assassination of Charlie Kirk while he was speaking publicly on campus.
I see not just two tragedies but two clear signs of where our society is heading. These are not isolated crimes that can be brushed aside as bad luck. They are symptoms of a climate that has been deliberately cultivated, where dissenting voices are demonized, where opponents are painted as subhuman, where mobs operate under the conviction that disagreement is not to be debated but to be destroyed. And what chills me most is not only that these deaths happened, but that in our current political environment we all knew, on some level, that something like this was inevitable.
What has become painfully obvious is that one side of the political spectrum believes in the power of words, arguments, and debate, while the other side increasingly resorts to intimidation, violence, and the politics of fear. Conservatives, even when heated in their rhetoric, fundamentally cling to persuasion, to winning hearts and minds, to defending principles in public. The radicalized left, in contrast, too often shows that when words fail, they turn to silencing, to censorship, to cancel culture, to name calling, and at the extremes, to physical violence. If it were merely about disagreements over policy, this would be bearable; societies can function with diverse opinions. But when the disagreement is framed as “good” vs “evil”, when dissenters are automatically branded “fascists” or “Nazis”, when public figures are not opponents but existential threats, then the line between heated rhetoric and bloodshed becomes frighteningly thin. The deaths of Iryna and Charlie show us just how thin that line has become.
The right cannot afford to ignore what these events mean, nor can we afford to react in the wrong way. If we sink into vengeance, we will lose our moral authority. If we retreat into silence, we will be erased. The only path forward is one of conviction, clarity, and resilience. We must insist on our place in the public square, on our right to argue, to dissent, to propose, to reject, to persuade, without fear that our lives or livelihoods will be taken from us. That means understanding exactly what forces are at play in this cultural battle and how we must meet them.
One of the most corrosive forces in our time is the casual dehumanization of political opponents. Like I mentioned before, it has become common for people on the left to label anyone who disagrees with them as “a fascist”, “a Nazi”, or some other variation of evil incarnate. These labels are not chosen by accident. They are not mere insults. They are designed to strip away the humanity of those who hold conservative views, to make them into monsters who can be eliminated rather than individuals who must be debated. And once someone is dehumanized in the public imagination, violence against them becomes easier to justify. You can already see the logic: if your opponent is a Nazi, then stopping them “by any means necessary” sounds righteous, because being a Nazi is not good. This is how language prepares the ground for murder. And it is why the assassination of someone like Charlie Kirk, regardless of whether the perpetrator had direct political motives or acted in some deranged frenzy, cannot be separated from the cultural environment that constantly portrays conservative thinkers as existential threats.
But it doesn’t stop with rhetoric. It seeps into institutions that shape the minds of the next generation. Schools and universities have become breeding grounds for ideological conformity, where the ideology of gender theory and intersectional politics is not just offered as one perspective among many but enforced as the only acceptable worldview. Students learn early on that to question these dogmas is not merely to be wrong, but to be morally defective, hateful, or dangerous. Professors who challenge the consensus risk their careers. Parents who ask for transparency are vilified. In such an environment, young people are not being taught to think critically, but to recite slogans. And when you teach entire generations that opposing voices are not simply mistaken but inherently harmful, you lay the foundation for silencing them by whatever means are available. What happened to Iryna and Charlie is not disconnected from this cultural indoctrination; it is the poisonous fruit of it.
The same dynamic plays out in movements that began with noble intentions but were captured by radicalism. Black Lives Matter, at its core, raised awareness about real issues of injustice and police misconduct. But as the movement grew, it was hijacked by voices that demanded not reform but revolution, not nuance but condemnation of entire groups of people. Police officers were vilified wholesale, white people were told their very existence was a form of privilege that made them complicit in oppression, dissenters were shouted down as racists. Protests turned to riots, property was destroyed, cities burned. And rather than hold these excesses accountable, too many leaders excused them as “understandable anger”. What message does that send, other than that violence in pursuit of the “right” cause is permissible? Once that precedent is set, it is no surprise that others pick up on it and carry it further.
At the fringes of the left, the radical ideologies of communism and anti-Western resentment openly preach that the existing order is not just flawed but irredeemable. For these groups, law, family, tradition, religion, and even the basic structures of democracy are seen as oppressive. They long not for reform but for dismantling. And when you embrace dismantling, you inevitably flirt with destruction. To them, conservatives are not simply political rivals but obstacles to their utopia. And obstacles, in revolutionary logic, must be removed. Once again, we see how ideology fuels justification for violence.
It is in this toxic mix, constant labeling of opponents as fascists, ideological indoctrination in schools, radicalized movements that sanctify violence, and fringe groups that dream of dismantling everything, that tragedies like the murders of Iryna and Charlie become possible. Their deaths are not random. They are part of the story of a society in which the culture of the left has normalized hostility toward conservatives and anyone who does not conform to its dogmas. And yet, in facing this reality, the right must be smarter, steadier, and stronger than ever before.
The first principle must be an absolute, unwavering rejection of political violence in all its forms. If we justify violence when it serves our side, we destroy the very ground we stand on. The legitimacy of our cause depends on the consistency of our moral compass. We cannot condemn the stabbing of Iryna or the shooting of Charlie while secretly applauding attacks on those we dislike. That double standard is what corrodes the left today, and we cannot afford to replicate it. If we stand for law, order, and liberty, we must stand for them always, even when it is inconvenient.
But rejection is not enough. We must also seize the mantle of moral clarity. Conservatives cannot shy away from speaking uncomfortable truths, nor can they allow themselves to be bullied into silence. Leaders on the right must condemn hatred wherever it arises, but they must also expose the hypocrisy of a culture that excuses left-wing violence while magnifying every conservative misstep. They must refuse to play by the rules of a debate that presumes conservatives are guilty until proven innocent. And they must insist on debating ideas rather than trading insults.
A crucial part of this battle is the defense of free speech. Free speech is not just an abstract right; it is the foundation of democratic society. Without it, all other freedoms crumble. Yet today we see speech suppressed under the banners of “safety” or “anti-hate”. Universities disinvite speakers who might offend. Tech platforms ban or shadow-ban voices that challenge progressive orthodoxy. Public employees whisper their opinions in fear of losing their jobs. This cannot stand. Conservatives must fight for the principle that in a free society, offensive speech is still protected speech, and the answer to bad ideas is better ideas, not censorship. At the same time, conservatives must model responsibility, showing that free speech does not mean reckless speech or calls to violence, but the courage to speak the truth boldly.
If we are serious about saving our society from further collapse, we must also focus on strengthening the institutions that hold it together. That means supporting police who protect communities, insisting on justice systems that punish criminals rather than coddle them, and ensuring public spaces are safe for ordinary citizens like me and you. It also means confronting the mental health crisis that often underlies violent behavior.
Nowhere is the battle more urgent than in education. Conservatives must push back against the hijacking of classrooms by ideologues who see schools not as places of learning but as platforms for indoctrination. We need people that will teach history honestly, science rigorously, and philosophy broadly. Students should be exposed to multiple perspectives, trained to evaluate evidence, and encouraged to think critically, not programmed to recite slogans. Parents must have a voice in what their children are taught, and academic freedom must extend to professors who dissent from progressive dogmas. If the left owns the minds of the young, then the right has already lost the future. This is not about banning discussion of difficult topics; it is about ensuring that discussion is truly open, balanced, and free from coercion.
Equally dangerous is the obsession with identity politics, which reduces every issue to race, gender, or sexuality. When you divide people endlessly into oppressors and oppressed, when you insist that one’s skin color or gender identity is more important than one’s character or actions, you destroy the possibility of unity. The right must resist this by emphasizing universal values: dignity, liberty, equality under the law, and the idea that merit and effort matter more than group identity. We can acknowledge real injustices without reducing all of life to an eternal battle of identities. That kind of reductionism only breeds resentment and, eventually, violence.
To win this fight, conservatives must also learn to tell better stories. Too often we argue with statistics and logic, while the left appeals to emotion and narrative. But the truth is that stories move people. We should be telling the stories of victims like Iryna, whose life was cut short by violence, or of people silenced on campus, or of families destroyed by riots. These stories put a human face on abstract principles and remind people what is really at stake. At the same time, we must show hope, not just outrage. People respond not only to warnings about danger but to visions of a better future. We must paint a picture of communities where people are safe, families are strong, education is fair, and freedom is real.
None of this will be easy, because the right itself is not monolithic. Some will be tempted to mirror the tactics of the left, to fight fire with fire. Some will advocate retreat, convinced that the system is too far gone. Both paths are dangerous. Fighting fire with fire makes us what we despise. Retreat leaves the field to radicals. The only viable path is one of active, disciplined engagement, building communities, running for office, voting, showing up at school board meetings, and refusing to be intimidated. Civic engagement is the weapon that cannot be taken away from us if we choose to wield it.
In the end, the question is not just about the deaths of Iryna Zarutska and Charlie Kirk, though their deaths should be remembered with grief and anger. The question is what kind of society we want to live in. Do we want a society where disagreement is met with violence, where speech is censored, where ideology trumps truth, and where identities matter more than humanity? Or do we want a society where differences are debated vigorously but peacefully, where laws protect the vulnerable, where education liberates rather than indoctrinates, and where dignity is preserved even amid disagreement? The choice should be obvious, yet it requires courage to act on it.
The right has no option but to rise to this challenge. Not by retreating into silence, not by indulging in vengeance, but by standing firm for liberty, truth, and community. We must show the country and the world that we are not afraid, that we will not be silenced, that we will not accept the label of “fascist” from those who use it to excuse their own extremism. We will defend life, defend speech, defend families, defend communities, and defend civilization itself. Let these tragedies be not only moments of mourning but turning points of awakening. Let them be the fire that steels our resolve. Let us honor the memory of Charlie Kirk not by echoing the hatred that killed him but by living out the courage they represent: the courage to speak, to stand, and to fight for the future of our civilization with unshakable conviction.