In the grief surrounding the assassination of Charlie Kirk, one underappreciated aspect is the loss for young men of a role model they could enthusiastically follow. Reels of Kirk’s talks on college campuses show crowds of young male faces. Indeed, young men were Kirk’s base of support, and for good reason.
After two decades of pathologizing masculinity, a young man appeared on the college scene, the belly of the beast, with no apology for being a man. Who in recent memory has so winsomely called on young guys to “man up?” Live a life worthy of respect. Get married. Be a good father. Above all, love Christ. That was Kirk’s consistent message.
Of course, young men have plenty of male leaders vying for their attention — many of them good. Jordan Peterson, Joe Rogan, and the better parts of the manosphere come to mind. But while these insightful men might offer boys “rules for life” and other important motivation and meaning, Charlie Kirk gave his listeners something far more lasting, eternal even. He offered the glorious truth of the gospel: the hope of eternal life and salvation from sin to all who would turn from their wickedness and surrender to the blood and Lordship of Christ.
Kirk was not the blowhard apologist for the right that his detractors would like to claim. He was humble enough to admit what he didn’t know. He cultivated mentors like Frank Turek, spent hours reading and researching, and regularly picked the brains of older, wiser men such as Victor Davis Hanson.
Much has been made of Kirk’s courage. For the first time in decades, someone openly took on tough issues in high school and college venues around the country. For that alone, Kirk deserves the praise he’s gotten. While most of us moaned in private about the leftist orientation of academic institutions, Kirk waded into the fray, a happy warrior, an unashamed Christian. It cost him his life. He welcomed opposition and treated his adversaries with respect. Only a strong, deeply grounded man can do that, as young men watching him instinctively recognized.
It’s hard to overestimate how starved our culture has been for a young man to lead by the fundamental goodness of his own example. Like all of us, Kirk was imperfect, though what a delight it was to watch marriage and fatherhood mature him. He spoke with truth and conviction, offering his generation lots of hope.
Marriage is a beautiful thing, he told his audiences. He reminded young guys that there’s nothing like coming home to small children wrapping their sweet little arms around your knees. As Erika, his wife, explained in her memorial speech, he regularly asked her how he could serve her better.
Imagine that. Together, they made virtue attractive. The goodness they enjoyed inside marriage was made possible by the countercultural willingness to forego sex outside of it. Old-school wisdom modeled in a young, hip couple. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen that.
Why Kirk’s Example Matters
To understand what the loss of Kirk’s voice means to Gen Z men (and women), his call to young men must be put in context. For over a decade now, the angst-filled refrain in therapists’ offices, in both public and private settings, is this: Where are the good men? By that, women mean, where are the young men able and willing to bear the responsibility of marriage and children? A man with whom to build a life.
Honestly, should we be surprised? We have spent two decades denigrating men, calling some of their best attributes “toxic.” We offshored the jobs they needed to support a family and turned a blind eye as they succumbed to the quick relief of alcohol, sex, and drugs. The absence of strong and good men is mourned, but with little admission that we have feminized the historic institutions that develop boys into men — the military, the Boy Scouts, and all-male colleges. Why are we shocked that so many guys look like Pajama Boys?
The wisdom we have memory-holed, known intuitively and by careful study, is that it’s no small feat to get a boy on the path to responsible manhood. His overwhelming testosterone has to be channeled toward its intended good ends. Mothers of sons learn quickly that boys are lovable little barbarians who must be civilized, bit by bit. This process takes place mostly under the auspices of men, not female teachers and drill instructors.
So young women have not been wrong to complain. Some have given up on men. Quite a few have been burned in a relationship with a guy who makes them leery of men, period. The dating culture has been spoiled by casual sex. Talented women are often lured into heavy job responsibilities in their twenties, trading their most fertile and eligible years to advance a career, only to emerge single and childless with even fewer potential partners. Too often now, you see groups of single women congregating socially — not couples out for an evening. Facebook features thirty-something women who have turned cute Shih-Tzus into the “babies” they never had.
Into this generation’s desert stepped a young man named Charlie Kirk. He talked to guys straight-up about how to lead as a man who not only makes his bed and doesn’t lie but also serves God and his family. He told guys what’s expected of them as emerging men, and, like in all times and every place, men rise to the level of expectation. They become men worthy of the respect they long for.
Some of Erika Kirk’s most poignant remarks were directed at the young men her husband sought to reach. He called them “the lost boys of the West.” Young men who were wasting their lives on distraction and a lack of purpose. Charlie Kirk went on campus to “show them a better path.” In piercing words, Erika said her husband “wanted to save young men like the one who took his life.”
May that be. May Charlie Kirk’s death be the seed of thousands of young men inspired by his example to courage, strength, and character.