RUTHFULLY YOURS

https://www.city-journal.org/article/annunciation-catholic-church-minneapolis-charlie-kirk-shooting-terrorism

In the 1960s and 1970s, America witnessed a wave of political terrorism. Left-wing radicals hijacked airplanes, set bombs in government buildings, and assassinated police officers in service of political goals. The perpetrators were almost always organized, belonging to groups like the Weathermen or the Black Liberation Army. These groups demanded the release of prisoners, denounced capitalism, or called for violent revolution against the United States. Their members were radical but largely lucid, justifying their actions with appeals to a higher cause.

In recent years, a new form of terror has emerged: decentralized, digitally driven violence organized not around coherent ideologies but around memes, fantasies, and nihilistic impulses. The perpetrators of this low-grade terror campaign do not belong to hierarchical organizations or pursue concrete political aims. More often, they come from ordinary families and lash out in acts of violence without discernible purpose.

At the close of this summer, two such incidents underscored the trend: the attack on schoolchildren at Annunciation Catholic Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and the assassination of Charlie Kirk in Orem, Utah. Though the first resembled the school-shooter archetype and the second evoked a JFK-style political assassination, both share psychological and sociological roots that make them more alike than they initially appear.

The new terror campaign is defined by a particular kind of psychopathology. It is perhaps tautological that anyone willing to kill innocent schoolchildren as they are praying or to assassinate a popular podcast host in broad daylight is pathological. But in these cases, both alleged killers—Robin Westman (formerly Robert Westman), and Tyler Robinson—left behind several warning signs that were psychological in nature.

https://www.city-journal.org/article/political-violence-left-charlie-kirk

In 2011, Martin McGuinness, the former leader of the Provisional IRA (Irish Republican Army), ran for president of the Republic of Ireland. Over the four decades of his public life, McGuinness had moved from supporting terrorism, including assassination, for political ends to pursuing votes through the ballot box. Some now feted him as a “peacemaker.” But to many voters, his personal journey from the use of violence to the use of democratic means to achieve a united Ireland still seemed like a work in progress.

During one televised presidential debate, the moderator for the Irish public broadcaster RTÉ, Miriam O’Callaghan, asked the candidate: “How do you square, Martin McGuinness, with your God, the fact that you were involved in the murder of so many people?” McGuinness called it a “disgraceful comment.” But the blow landed. Worse for McGuinness was that, after the cameras turned off, he took O’Callaghan into a side-room, where she was seen leaving five minutes later “badly shaken.” The Irish electorate did not take well to the news that a broadcaster and mother of young children had been treated in such a way. McGuinness’s run for the presidency failed.

The episode mattered because McGuinness still lived in the gray zone of political violence: not fully condoning it, but not fully condemning it, either—especially when it served his cause or came from his supporters. Some Americans have now entered this same gray zone. Parts of the U.S. Left have inhabited it for years.

Many commentators have pointed to the difference in responses between the killing of George Floyd and that of Charlie Kirk. Floyd’s death led to a summer of violence, burnings, and lootings, behavior often excused by Democratic lawmakers. Groups like Antifa shut down American cities night after night with minimal official condemnation in the summer of 2020. By contrast, Kirk’s death, so far, has led to dignified and mournful prayer meetings. If the American Right were ever to erupt into violence, then it would face its own moment of challenge.

Meantime, the American Left has the bigger questions to answer. In recent days, portions of the Left have expressed greater outrage about Jimmy Kimmel’s brief absence from his late-night talk show on ABC than Kirk’s absence from life. Others—up to and including members of Congress—have suggested that Kirk’s words constituted violence, and that therefore condemnations of the violence directed against him require a certain caveat. Such slips became possible only because the American Left has been increasingly drawn to the gray zone.

We have seen this tendency already in the Left’s response to Luigi Mangione, the 27-year-old accused of assassinating United HealthCare CEO Brian Thompson last December on Sixth Avenue in New York City. Many have noted the gushing support for Mangione from some on the left, or Senator Elizabeth Warren’s comment after the murder that “people can only be pushed so far”—as though gunning down a husband and father could ever be a logical extension of a critique of the American health-care system.

In response to recent criticism of their rhetoric, some on the left have pointed to frivolous right-wing reactions to the 2022 hammer attack on Nancy Pelosi’s husband in San Francisco. But such tit-for-tat arguments miss the larger point. The issue is not whether both sides can produce individuals willing to commit political violence—that much is undeniable. The real question is whether those individuals will find a supportive ecosystem or, instead, encounter a firm “no,” like the one the Irish electorate eventually delivered to McGuinness.