by Elisabeth Sabaditsch-Wolff
I was never fortunate enough to meet Charlie Kirk in person, though I once heard him speak at one of my friend Karen Siegemund’s American Freedom Alliance conferences. This was many years ago, when Charlie was still so young, really just a boy — but even then, his astute mind, his kindness, and his deep love of God, family, and country left a lasting impression. Like countless others, I was struck by his clarity and conviction. So today, when we speak of his legacy, we are not just remembering a man — we are examining the values he embodied and the torch he has left to us to carry.
Charlie’s influence on Gen Z, on today’s youth, cannot be overstated. It may well have been one of the reasons he was targeted. Over the years I followed him closely, especially the short clips from his campus tours that so many of us have seen. If you haven’t, I urge you to do so. His knowledge of everything under God’s sky was breathtaking, far beyond most people I’ve ever known. And remember, he was still only in his early thirties.
One of his arguments left a permanent mark on me. For much of my life, I was indifferent to abortion. I neither advocated for it, nor thought deeply about it. But as I began my own journey of standing for what is right rather than what is comfortable, Charlie’s debates with pro-choice activists transformed my indifference into conviction. He had a gift for making people stop and think, for turning an abstract issue into a moral reality. I came to believe, as he argued so powerfully, that abortion is in almost all cases the taking of a human life, with all of its consequences. I especially appreciated his reasoning when he asked about the exact time a fetus enjoys human rights, including the right to life. It made me think hard, as it did others.
I won’t recount all of Charlie’s arguments here — you can find them online. Instead, let me ask you this: how is Charlie’s murder different from the killing of a child in the womb? Both deaths are senseless. Both cut off lives full of potential. Both leave behind those who loved them and who grieve their loss.
Charlie taught that we must listen to the other side, not necessarily agree, but at least respect opposing views. That is what our side is about: listening, debating, tolerating. The other side, knowing that history and facts are not on their side, often resorts to violence.
So I say: we must remain intellectually curious. Ask questions. Listen. Learn. My mantra for years was “two plus two equals four.” Charlie’s death has added: “What is a woman?” — one of Charlie’s most famous questions. A simple question, but one that in today’s world could cost you your life. Will you stand with me and keep asking it? Because a society that punishes questions is a society already on the path to tyranny. And Charlie reminded us — again and again — that asking the right questions is not only our right, it is our duty.
Remember: asking questions is not provocation. There is nothing controversial about saying capitalism works better than socialism. That men and women are different. That the Constitution is the greatest political document ever written.
Violence begins when humans are dehumanized — when dignity is stripped away, when scapegoats are created. We saw this in the dark years of the Covid era. Some of you may remember it when JFK, RFK, and MLK were assassinated. We have studied it in the horrors of National Socialism and Communism. Whenever people are targeted, silenced, locked away, or even exterminated for what they believe, the result is always disaster: totalitarianism, war, destruction. History warns us. Charlie warned us. And now we must warn each other — before silence takes root where speech once lived.
I have been warning about this for years — especially at the OSCE conferences, where I stood before diplomats and politicians and raised these very issues. I told them what would happen if Europe and the West continued down this path of silencing and criminalizing dissent and dehumanizing those who speak truth. Sadly, what I warned about then is unfolding before our very eyes today.
Since I began my journey in 2007, I have never stood with anyone who called for violence. If they had, I would have walked away. Our weapon of choice is debate — civil discourse, presented calmly, with persuasion and facts. We do not seek to destroy; we seek to preserve what is true and good. We argue with words, not weapons. Our side does not riot, burn, or terrorize. We choose peaceful demonstration, genuine warmth, love, and hope. As someone recently said: “It is no longer red vs. blue, it is humanity vs. insanity. It’s knowing when to agree to disagree. It’s knowing everyone is entitled to their own opinion. It’s knowing right from wrong and good vs. evil. In a world full of evil, be the good.”
And I can say this with conviction because I have lived it. I stood before a judge in Austria for speaking the truth. My conviction in 2010 was only the beginning. Since then, countless others in Europe and America have faced fines, prison sentences, attacks, and even death for refusing to be silenced. Yet those who survive come back stronger. And you know this too — that silence is complicity, and truth demands a voice. That is the message: we will not back down. We will not be silenced. We will continue to stand for truth, for God, home, and family. We owe this to our children.
Charlie’s death has been called a watershed moment. I agree. But the question is: what will you do as a result? What does Charlie’s death mean in your life? Each of us must ask: What are my core values? What do I truly stand for? Am I willing to defend those values publicly, knowing the cost? Charlie’s death has shaken us, but it has also revealed the measure of our time. And as one commentator put it so clearly in the very hours after his passing, the question is not just about him — it is about us. Here’s what Greg Gutfeld, in his monologue on The Five the day Charlie died, said:
It’s not about him or me.
It’s us…
What do we do? Well, you still do what you always do, but you do more of it. You stand up. You speak up. And you share the risk.
Right now you are recoiling, but you have to come back and return stronger, more fortified, and more resilient… Charlie’s power just got released in all of us.
Life will go on, even after Charlie’s passing. But if his death is to have meaning, then we must each take up the torch he carried. Find out what that torch looks like for you. Carry it proudly. Never let the flame be extinguished. Above all — live each day fully, tell your loved ones how much they mean to you, and never give up. Never give in.
That is how we honor Charlie Kirk. That is how we keep the flame of freedom alive. And that is how we ensure that when history looks back at this moment, it will say: they stood, they spoke, and they did not let the flame die.
By Elisabeth Sabaditsch-Wolff
in https://gatesofvienna.net/
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