A makeshift memorial for Charlie Kirk outside of a hospital where he was taken after being fatally shot Wednesday in Orem, Utah.KIM RAFF/The New York Times News Service
Josh Greenberg is professor of communication and associate dean in the Faculty of Public and Global Affairs at Carleton University. Jennifer V. Evans is professor of History, Faculty of Arts and Science at Carleton University.
The assassination of Charlie Kirk has sparked a wave of reactions – grief, outrage, disbelief and, disturbingly, joy. There were memes mocking his death, ghoulish hashtags, and gleeful stories and reels. Within minutes of it happening, video coverage captured from different angles was uploaded to various platforms and reproduced endlessly, saturating our social media feeds. For many, his murder was not an escalation of political violence. It was a moment of catharsis, a symbolic triumph over a man whose views they vehemently opposed.
What does it mean when violence becomes a source of pleasure, something in which we delight? What does this say about us and our increasingly fragile democratic culture?
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To make sense of this question, we might look to Theodor Adorno, the Jewish German philosopher and social theorist who fled Nazi Germany and spent his life warning against the psychological and cultural conditions that give rise to authoritarianism. In his seminal work The Authoritarian Personality, Adorno and his colleagues explored how certain personality traits – rigid thinking, submission to authority, aggression toward out-groups, and hostility toward introspection and nuance – make individuals susceptible to fascist ideologies. These traits, they argued, are not confined to the far right or overtly authoritarian regimes. They are latent in modern capitalist societies, shaped by upbringing, cultural norms and the pressures of conformity.
Authoritarianism is not just a political structure – it is a psychological disposition. And crucially, it is not limited to those on the fringes who wear its symbols or chant its slogans. It can manifest in the righteous, the progressive, the well-intended. It can emerge in moments of moral clarity, when the line between justice and vengeance blurs.
The exuberance over Mr. Kirk’s murder is a case in point. Many people expressing joy see themselves as opponents of authoritarianism. They abhor the violence, bigotry and inequality at the heart of America’s democratic backslide. Yet in their delight, we see the very traits Adorno warned us about: the dehumanization of the other, emotional reactivity, and the collapse of critical thought. The enemy is no longer a person with deeply flawed ideas – they are a symbol to be destroyed, a target for mockery, a corpse to be danced upon.
Adorno warned about the role of mass culture in fostering these tendencies. Popular media dulls our capacity for reflection. It encourages ideological conformity. It turns politics into spectacle, transforming suffering into entertainment. Social media, with its algorithms and virality, amplifies this effect. It rewards outrage, flattens complexity, turns tragedy into content. In this environment, the assassination of a public figure becomes not a moment for introspection or debate, but a dopamine hit in an endless cycle of doom-scrolled violence. Where do we find ourselves as a society when murder is met with delight?
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Adorno argued that to truly resist authoritarianism requires more than just standing up to its figureheads. It also means resisting its subtle seductions. It means reckoning with the authoritarian tendencies within each of us: the impulse to punish, to silence and cancel, to revel in the suffering and pain of others – even those with views we loathe.
For Adorno, he would likely see this moment as a symptom of a much deeper malaise: the erosion of empathy, the triumph of ideology over introspection, and the transformation of democratic discourse into tribalism. He would urge us to resist – not just the authoritarianism of others, but the authoritarian impulses within ourselves.
So, what are we to do? We can start by refusing to celebrate violence, even when it targets people whose views we oppose. We can cultivate spaces for dialogue and invite reflection, nuance and the possibility of holding irreconcilable views in tension with each other, simply so that we might understand them better – and understand ourselves better. We can teach our students that justice is not vengeance, that democracy is fragile. We can demand more humility, restraint, and care of ourselves and others.
Charlie Kirk was murdered in cold blood for all the world to see. We might not like his beliefs, or his vision for America. But his death – and now the calls for retribution – are a tragedy, a sign and symptom of a democracy that is ailing. It is more than that too: It is a warning.
If we truly wish to resist authoritarianism, we must begin by resisting the part of ourselves that finds happiness or joy in its cruelty. Adorno’s lesson is clear: the fight against authoritarianism must be waged not just in the streets or in our parliaments, but in our hearts and our minds.