I teach public high school English in a liberal state. And like most Americans — liberal or conservative — I believe what my liberal friends and my conservative Irish Catholic family believe: Charlie Kirk did not deserve to die. None of us — on the right or the left — believe words warrant death.
Yet a world-famous podcaster recently repeated a dangerous lie: that “so many” on the left are celebrating Kirk’s assassination. This defies common sense and my lived experience. My liberal neighbors are not cheering death. My colleagues mourn when a child loses his father. Church communities pray for peace, not more bloodshed.
I call myself a “bleeding-heart liberal” for a reason: we want fewer guns, less aggression, and fewer lives shattered by violence. A handful of voices may rejoice in cruelty, but they do not represent the millions of bleeding hearts who grieve and long for peace.
In my classroom, when disagreements flare, I ask students to pause.
Pause — and ask a question.
Pause — and listen.
Examine your sources. Ask: Can two opposing points of view exist at once? Can we keep talking, keep learning? That is what teachers model every day, and it is what our society desperately needs.
I sometimes read John Stuart Mill with my students, especially when they want to shut down “the other side.” Mill argued that three things can come from being fully open to opposing ideas: you may change your mind, you may grow more confident in what you know, or you may gain a more nuanced understanding. Any of these outcomes strengthens both the individual and the community.
Kirk said he valued open conversation. Whether you believed him or not — I had my doubts — what if we honored that claim now? What if, instead of hardening into hatred, we tried what students are asked to do daily: to understand before we attack?
Vilifying each other will not heal our wounds, nor prevent the next act of senseless violence. Division only strengthens those who profit from it. Instead, let’s turn to the people we actually know — our families, our coworkers, our neighbors, our congregations. They are not our enemies. They are us.
Some will call my opinion naive. They’ll say what divides us is too great. But I have spoken with family, friends, and colleagues who may call the left unhinged, yet still respect me and my intelligence. Our relationships expose the lie. That’s not naivety. It’s relationships — and those bonds will save us. I trust the goodness of people I know more than the words of podcasters, pundits, or politicians I don’t.
In this politically fraught time, we can step away from the noise of social media and punditry and return to our communities.
We may lack leaders we trust to speak hard truths. But we still have the words of those who came before us. Looking into the faces of those who despised him, descendants of people who had enslaved his relatives, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said: “I love you. I would rather die than hate you.”
Was Dr. King naive? No. He was brave. He understood what hate does to people, communities, and nations. As Thomas Merton warned, hatred is a sword that cuts through the one who wields it before it strikes the enemy.
We need courage to resist hate. We need courage to resist lies and talk with our neighbors who believe differently. The least we can do now — in this seemingly hate-filled time — is find a way to know each other, to be kind, even to those we are told are our enemies.
Patrick O’Connor lives in Holyoke.