Silencing Charlie Kirk: Violence as the ultimate

To his detractors, he was a provocateur. As he began his speech, a single shot rang out at 12.23pm, killing Kirk in front of a shocked audience. People call it a political assassination. But it should be remembered as the heckler’s final veto – the moment when an argument is met not with a counterargument, but a bullet.

Kirk’s arguments

I had never heard of Kirk until his death. To understand him, I listened to many of his debates. As a conservative who values traditional principles – such as marriage between a man and a woman, restrictions on abortion, and a rejection of what I see as LGBTQ+ ideology – I found myself agreeing with much of what he said.

That said, I would have disagreed with him on several issues. Guns: I don’t share America’s fascination with guns. White murders in South Africa: I reject that ridiculous Trumpian narrative.

And on Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI): I once saw things as Kirk did, but my position changed when I wrote an article titled “The history of hate: America’s war on Black people”. Giants such as Du Bois, Martin Luther King Jr, and Henry Louis Gates Jr supported DEI, so do I. 

But whatever your opinion of Kirk, he believed in the superiority of his ideas and debated anyone, anywhere. I admire that. I value engaging with all ideas; that’s why his views don’t anger me at all. He was a true champion of free speech and should be remembered as one.

From debate to the gun

In a democracy, the answer to speech you dislike is more speech. You argue back. You write commentaries. You protest. You challenge the facts. You sharpen your own ideas against those of your opponent.

But hecklers don’t work that way. They don’t want to listen, and they don’t want others to listen, too. So, they will do whatever it takes to prevent those they hate from speaking.

This wasn’t new to Kirk. He faced protesters disrupting events, venues cancelling bookings, and relentless social media attacks. But it escalated until someone decided to silence him permanently.

This slippery slope is not an abstract concept; it is a global reality with local consequences. It begins with the subtle methods of suppression, such as blocked websites and denied permits—where Twitter or YouTube go dark just as some voices start to gain traction.

Next comes intimidation, including anonymous threats, tax audits, and police summons, among others. Then, batons break up rallies. Police raids. Finally, the ultimate censorship: whether delivered by an assassin’s bullet, a policeman’s club, or a prison cell—the goal is to silence dissent forever.

Once a society begins to climb this ladder, there is no natural stopping point. Repression will escalate. Subtle bans will sooner or later end with blood.

Very high stakes

What happened in Utah matters to us here. We live in a world where two models of governance are competing for influence. On one hand, authoritarian states – China, Iran, Russia and North Korea – where dissent is crushed and the leader’s word is law.

On the other, flawed but functioning democracies – like the US and much of the West – where the rule of law and free speech still stand, however shakily.

We may not agree with every Western policy or practice. I certainly don’t. But I know this: people are not queuing for visas to Pyongyang and Beijing and Moscow. If the West loses its commitment to free speech, then fledgling democracies like ours will find it even harder to resist the tide of authoritarianism.

The danger is real

Our universities, once vibrant arenas of debate, now produce graduates who’ve learned that silence is safer than truth. Social media, once a lifeline for alternative voices, now platforms vanish overnight. The press, too, has learnt not to step out of line. Or else.

The logic of censorship is universal: once you agree that some voices can be silenced, you allow power to decide who speaks. And power that silences without consequences never remains satisfied.

It starts with a denied permit. Then a police raid. Then something worse. Each step makes the next one easier—until the unthinkable becomes normal.

The cost of silence

In Tanzania, we have mastered the art of talking without saying anything. Everyone is murmuring – but no one dares to tell the truth. And in that fear, we have ceded the public square to those who would prefer it to be empty.

Kirk’s death is a tragedy, but it is also a warning. Free speech is the oxygen of any society that hopes to breathe freely. And like oxygen, you only notice its absence when it’s almost gone. The ladder of censorship only goes one way – up. And at the top, there are no words left. Only blood.

Charles Makakala is a Technology and Management Consultant based in  Dar es Salaam