As the leader of a young conservative political movement that helped Donald Trump win a second presidential term, Charlie Kirk accomplished a lot in his too-short life. But at Kirk’s packed memorial in Arizona last weekend, his admirers proclaimed that the slain activist now stands to become something even more powerful and potentially lasting: a martyr.
A premature and violent death can turn a controversial individual into an object of sympathy and a symbol of a larger movement—one that gains attention with every new headline and eulogy. By evoking both curiosity and compassion, martyrdom can make a polarizing public figure more influential in death than they were in life.
To see how such a process can take place, consider the example of Malcolm X, another firebrand who was gunned down while addressing followers, in his case in a packed ballroom in Upper Manhattan 60 years ago, in 1965. In a turbulent decade marred by murderous attacks on powerful men, Malcolm X was one victim among many. But in the decades since, his legacy has only grown—and despite the differences between the two men, that evolution offers some insight into what might become of Kirk’s.
By the time of his death, Kirk had become a prominent voice on the Christian right, and a steadfast advocate for the nationalist MAGA agenda. Malcolm, as a spokesperson for the Nation of Islam, made his name preaching Black pride, advocating racial separatism, and criticizing the civil-rights strategy of unconditional nonviolence favored by Martin Luther King Jr. Then, in the year before he died, he broke with the Nation of Islam, converted to Sunni Islam, envisioned a broader-based Black-nationalist movement with supporters from various religious backgrounds, expressed a willingness to accept the financial backing of white allies, and traveled the world seeking support for the Black cause.
Yet the two men had some things in common. Both acquired national reputations for their formidable skill as speakers—forceful and provocative, but also engaging and quick on their feet. Both relished debating critics, all the better if it was broadcast on television or radio, and going to college campuses to try to shape the thinking of young people. Beyond their flamboyance, both were highly effective grassroots organizers with a knack for appealing to the disaffected. Just as Malcolm spoke to Black people in the urban North whose concerns weren’t addressed by the civil-rights battles of the Jim Crow South, Kirk built his political movement, Turning Point USA, on the grievances of young white men who felt sidelined in the age of the #MeToo and Black Lives Matter movements.
The gruesome way that these two figures died caused ordinary Americans who had only a negative or hazy opinion of them to see them in a new light. Malcolm was long portrayed by the white media establishment as a scary, demagogic figure. A New York Times editorial the day after he was murdered described him as “an extraordinary and twisted man, turning many true gifts to evil purpose.” But photos in Life magazine of his wife, Betty Shabazz, leaning over his bullet-ridden body and tearing up at his funeral humanized him as a father who had left behind a grieving and pregnant widow, four young daughters, and two more yet to be born. His murder transformed him from an abstract idea or menace into a man with a loving family who was suddenly, tragically gone.
News reports about Kirk’s death tended to avoid highlighting his most inflammatory comments. Most mainstream-media eulogies did not note that Kirk once said that passing the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was “a huge mistake,” for example, or mention his many attacks on changes brought about by immigrants of color. But even people who knew of and rejected Kirk’s views couldn’t help but be moved by the New York Post’s front-page image of his wife, Erika, the mother of their two young children, weeping over his open casket. “If they thought my husband’s mission was big now..you have no idea,” she declared in a post on Instagram with this photo. “You. All of you. Will never. Ever. Forget my husband @charliekirk1776 I’ll make sure of it.” By taking over as leader of his movement, she stands to play a central role in keeping her husband’s memory alive, just as Shabazz did as a social activist in her own right.
In Malcolm’s case, the media establishment grew more respectful once it saw how beloved he was among his followers—“our own Black shining prince,” in the words of the actor Ossie Davis at Malcolm’s funeral. Malcolm had also been working with the journalist Alex Haley on what would become The Autobiography of Malcolm X, a rivetingly personal account of his life and views, which was released posthumously within the year. This nuanced, thoughtful chronicle, which revealed a far more sympathetic and complicated man than earlier headlines had painted, arrived just when the American public was finally reckoning with who Malcolm was and what the country had lost in his death. It went on to sell in the millions and recast him as a self-created hero of literary proportions.
Kirk never got to write his own story, but his death has ushered forth validation of his historical importance from respected writers across the political spectrum. George F. Will described Kirk as an heir to William F. Buckley Jr., given his talent for making conservative politics “fun.” On the left, Ezra Klein credited Kirk with being “one of the era’s most effective practitioners of persuasion” and argued that “liberalism could use more of his moxie and fearlessness.” Already, his more controversial views are receding from public memory, and he is instead being memorialized as a man of faith and strong beliefs who loved a good debate.
Malcolm X’s legacy has also been shaped by all of the video and audio recordings he managed to leave behind. In the 1960s and ’70s, members of the Black Power generation huddled together listening to vinyl records of his speeches. In the ’80s and ’90s, hip-hop pioneers sampled his most memorable phrases, while up-and-coming Black conservatives, including future Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, memorized his calls for Black self-help. In recent decades, Black Lives Matter activists and young militants fighting for political and social change around the world have found inspiration in Malcolm X YouTube clips.
Kirk has left an even richer video and audio trove to be mined for posterity—by critics who want to remind the world of his more incendiary statements, but also by followers who will seek to aggregate, edit, and extrapolate on those fragments to amplify Kirk’s message and legacy.
Beyond his still-electrifying words and cool image, Malcolm X is admired most today for the personal odyssey he made in his 39 years—from street hustler to self-taught prisoner, then from worshipful follower of the Nation of Islam leader Elijah Muhammad to independent thinker who tried to bring the spirit of Pan-African unity to the racial struggle in America. Had he not undergone this evolution, and talked and written about it so candidly, he would likely be seen today as a marginal figure of a bygone age.
Kirk, too, changed during his time in public life. As a teenager, he co-founded Turning Point USA as a primarily political organization. But by 31, he was a husband and father who shaped much of his message, including his opposition to abortion and gay rights, around the idea of protecting the traditional family. There are signs that those messages will make Kirk an enduring figure in our ongoing culture wars, just as Malcolm is invoked today for his celebration of Black identity and history. But although Kirk shrewdly raised and rode the right-wing-populist tide of the moment, he had yet to make the kind of transition from provocateur to statesman that Malcolm had begun.
Kirk’s assassination and Malcolm’s were both met with widespread calls for an end to political bloodshed. “Rights Leaders Decry ‘Violence,’” read a New York Times headline upon Malcolm’s death. Yet anyone with a passing awareness of the ’60s knows that Malcolm X’s murder was followed by too many others. At Charlie Kirk’s memorial, Erika Kirk struck a moving note of mercy and healing. “That man, that young man, I forgive him,” she said of her husband’s killer. “I forgive him because it was what Christ did, and is what Charlie would do.” Yet many of Kirk’s more powerful supporters seem inclined to harness his memory for vengeance. Death may elevate Charlie Kirk to the ranks of tragic heroes, but his legacy will now be forever entwined with how the country reckons with this ugly new era of political violence.
The post How Charlie Kirk’s Death Will Change His Message appeared first on The Atlantic.
