The ‘Martyrdom’ of Charlie Kirk: How Culture Wars Erode Democracy

The assassination of Charlie Kirk, which continues to dominate headlines across the globe, points to far more than meets the eye. His death deserves to be condemned. Yet, the accordance of martyrdom to this provocateur is emblematic of the deep rot that has come to characterise Western liberal democracy. 

In one of many viral videos circulated online, Kirk calls on his audience to save America from the combined force of Marxism, wokeism, and Islam, by resorting to Christian dominion. Turning college campuses into battlegrounds, Turning Point USA—the organisation he founded—stirred up controversies and amplified bigoted views. It was no moral crusade, as his supporters would want us to believe, because democratic spirit requires the use of persuasive language to build consensus.

His death could redefine politics in America and beyond. London is up in arms, as far-right supporters recently took to the streets calling for the dissolution of the UK parliament. Other trabnsatlantic capitals are expected to follow suit. Kirk’s ‘martyrdom’ will be used by crafty politicians and cultural war purveyors to spawn a churning with vicious narratives, scarifying hard-won victories of representative democracy. Any kind of vitriolic hate is now passed off as freedom of speech, if it is couched in rhetorical flair and smart repartee.  

Unholy Alliance of Digital Demagogues and Populists

Kirk symobolises the traits of a modern demagogue. Political scientist Cas Mudde’s words were prophetic when he said that populists hardly ever come up with detailed programmes. Rather, he said, they want to build and drag out narratives to reshape public opinion, turning politics into moral battles. They pit the "pure people" against the "corrupt elites."

As an archetypical populist and demagogue, Kirk, through viral instagram reels and rallies, personified populism, alive in reels and rallies in which questions on, say, abortion quires the use of persuasive language to build consensus.

His death could redefine politics in America and beyond. London is up in arms, as far-right supporters recently took to the streets calling for the dissolution of the UK parliament. Capitals across Transatlantic are expected to follow suit. Kirk’s ‘martyrdom’ will be used by crafty politicians and cultural war purveyors to spawn a churning with vicious narratives, scarifying hard-won victories of the representative democracy. Any kind of vitriolic hate is now passed off as freedom of speech, if it is couched in rhetoric flair and smart repartee.

Unholy Alliance of Digital Demagogues and Populists

Kirk symobolises the traits of a modern demagogue. Dutch political scientist Cas Mudde’s words sound prophetic when he said populists hardly ever come up with detailed programmes. Rather, he said, they want to build and exploit narratives to reshape public opinion, turning politics into moral battles. They pit “pure people" against "corrupt elites." As an archetypal populist and demagogue, Kirk, through viral Instagram reels and rallies, cast issues such as abortion and migration into existential and moral struggle into existential struggles. He didn’t suggest possible policy changes to elevate the political discourse; instead, he gave young Americans loads of theatre and spectacle. 

Kirk was not alone here, for he was part of an ecosystem where narrative entrepreneurs thrived. The likes of Ben Shapiro and Jim Jordan amplified such views that are anathema to a modern liberal democracy. Shaprio’s Instagram page, logging 100 million visits a month, clutters up the political landscape with short, sharp, and viral sound bites.  

"Facts don't care about your feelings," Shapiro proclaims, framing abortion, feminism, or trans rights as assaults on civilisation. Enter Jim Jordan, who carried that confrontational approach to the US Congress, once said, "I am proud to stand and defend the lives of the unborn. I am committed to the view that life is sacred, that it begins at conception and that the Founding Fathers were correct in placing life first among the list of rights the Constitution was written to defend."  

Such distortions conflate modern debates with the founding struggle of the American republic. With big media at their disposal and tacit political support, these sinister narratives have found a constituency, particularly among the younger lot who are reeling under stress from joblessness and inflation. 

Once amplified, these narratives redefine the electoral landscape, relegating everyday concerns of livelihood, inflation, infrastructure, and healthcare into the background. No wonder they create a conducive environment for messiahs of the modern world, who are elected through popular vote, but rarely address the bread-and-butter issues. The examples of populist leaders are too many to list here. They don’t present a comprehensive political or economic blueprint when their allies have already persuaded voters that true dangers are indeed cultural: ‘immigrants swarming the country’, ‘feminists undermining families’, and ‘secular elites waging war on religion’.

Without realising this is a trap, the Centrists and the Left too have fallen into it, waging losing culture wars. Dismissed as wokeism, they have failed to reset the electoral discourse on everyday issues. 

The result, as Benjamin Moffitt has argued, is politics of style: performances, crises, and spectacles. Now, politics flourish in viral reels, emotional soundbites, and televised confrontations. If social democracy once flourishedin unions, churches, and party newspapers, it now draws strength from widely-shared bit-sized content online. 

These culture wars are reminiscent of ancient Roman gladiator games, meant to distract people and drive a wedge among them. Similarly, the public is now drawn into symbolic battles that circumscribe political policy, turning cultural clashes into the default mode of governance. And thus, bread-and-butter issues quietly fade into the backdrop.

This phenomenon is not unique to the US, as recent history in Europe shows. Across the continent, young populist figures like Jordan Bardella in France or movements such as Germany’s AfD youth and Spain’s Vox follow the same playbook. The very success attests that the Kirkian line from the US is being swept along by a wider populist wave coursing through democracies.

While ancient emperors ruled stone amphitheatres, digital demagogues now hold sway over platforms like Twitter/X, YouTube, TikTok, and podcasts. Packaged for wider online consumption, these televised confrontations are sliced into clips, reels, and shorts to generate outrage. They capture public imagination faster than any policy debate. Outrage drives clicks, and clicks keep these platforms alive.

This ecosystem ensures that the ongoing cultural conflicts never end, with every day bringing a new controversy, opponent, or existential threat to the fore. Over time, it self-sustains: populist leaders echo the rhetoric created by demagogues during campaigns, and once in office, they institutionalise it through laws and appointments.

How else can we see Kirks's death but as a disturbing truth: while an individual may die, the rhetoric will not. His speeches and his videos will be on circulation forever. His networks will continue to mobilise, and his politics has already entered the realm of being normalised. The afterlife of hate is not spectral. It is algorithmic, archived, and replayed towards the radicalisation of future generations. The spectacle deprives substance, and hence democracy turns incorrigibly younger, more furious, and less adept at resolving actual issues. 

If the world’s oldest democracy can get corrupted by the politics of spectacle, it is a cautionary tale for younger democracies struggling to deepen democratic spirit and maturity. As long as narratives eclipse policies, democracy grows to be the art of staging spectacles rather than delivering solutions. 

(Pottepaka Sandeep Kumar is a PhD scholar in the Department of Political Science, Osmania University. The views expressed are personal.)