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/
