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Utah Governor Spencer Cox speaks to the press at Utah Valley University where political activist Charlie Kirk was shot during an event on September 10, 2025 in Orem, Utah.
The tragic killing of Charlie Kirk has shaken our nation. It has also revealed, with painful clarity, the moral crossroads at which we now stand. Amid grief and rising political vitriol, his voice has emerged with clarity and courage: Utah Governor Spencer Cox.
While some MAGA-aligned figures, including the President, have responded with incendiary rhetoric that risks deepening our national divide, Governor Cox has chosen a different path. His words have been mournful, measured, and morally grounded. He has reminded us that political violence is not just an attack on individuals; it is an attack on the American experiment itself.
For those of us who have followed Cox’s career, this moment is not an anomaly. It is a continuation of a lifelong devotion to bridging divides and restoring civic grace. In 2016, as Lieutenant Governor, Cox co-chaired the Utah Citizen Summit, a groundbreaking event sponsored by the Utah Civil and Compassionate Communities Initiative. The summit brought together elected officials, community leaders, and everyday Utahns for a full day of dialogue, reflection, and bridge-building.
Its theme was “America Coming Together.” Its purpose was to model how political and cultural divides could be bridged through civil discourse and creative problem-solving. It was described as part group therapy, part civic conversation—a response to the fear and polarization following the 2016 election.
Nearly a decade later, Cox is once again showing us what it means to lead with empathy and courage. His recent remarks have echoed the same values he espoused in 2016: unity, dignity, and the moral imperative to disagree better.
“This is not just an attack on Charlie Kirk. It is an attack on all of us. It is an attack on the American experiment. It is an attack on our ideals,” said Governor Spencer Cox shortly after the killing of Charlie Kirk
“Political violence is different from any other type of violence… because it makes it more difficult for people to feel like they can share their ideas, that they can speak freely.” — Governor Spencer Cox.
“Our nation is broken. To anyone who might have celebrated, I ask you to look in the mirror and see if you can find a better angel in there somewhere.”
The polarized and hateful America of today is certainly not the America we should leave for our children. We owe it to ourselves—and to the generations that follow—to do better. To build a country where compassion is not weakness, where disagreement is not danger, and where democracy is not a battleground but a shared endeavor. Our children deserve a nation that reflects our highest ideals, not our darkest impulses.
And yet, while we honor Charlie Kirk’s life and respect the grief his family and friends are going through in the coming weeks and months we must confront a more profound dilemma facing our nation. How do we protect free speech while calling out language that incites and divides us? What is the balance between respecting the First Amendment and the right to free speech while calling out those who incite harm?
As Americans, we must resist the temptation to retreat into tribalism or cynicism. We must reject the politics of vengeance and embrace the politics of repair. We must remember that democracy is not a spectator sport—it is a daily act of courage, compassion, and commitment.
Governor Cox has shown us what that looks like. Now it’s our turn.
Let us come together, not just in moments of tragedy, but in the everyday work of civic renewal.
Let us build communities where disagreement is not a threat, but a strength.
Let us model the kind of leadership that heals rather than harms.
The American spirit is not dead. It is just waiting for us.
David Nevins is the publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
Every September 17, Americans mark Constitution Day—the anniversary of the signing of our nation’s foundational charter in 1787. The day is often commemorated with classroom lessons and speaking events, but it is more than a ceremonial anniversary. It is an invitation to ask: What does it mean to live under a constitution that was designed as a charge for each generation to study, debate, and uphold its principles? This year, as we look toward the semiquincentennial of our nation in 2026, the question feels especially urgent.
The decade between 1776 and 1787 was defined by a period of bold and intentional nation and national identity building. In that time, the United States declared independence, crafted its first national government, won a war to make their independence a reality, threw out the first government when it failed, and forged a new federal government to lead the nation. We stand at a similar inflection point. The coming decade, from the nation’s semiquincentennial in 2026 to the Constitution’s in 2037, offers a parallel opportunity to reimagine and reinvigorate our American civic culture. Amid the challenges we face today, there’s an opportunity to study, reflect, and prepare to write the next chapters in our American story—it is as much about the past 250 years, as it is about the next 250 years. It will require the same kind of audacious commitment to building for the future that was present at the nation’s outset.
The real founding legacy is one of innovation and improvisation. The Articles of Confederation, the country’s first governance charter, went into effect in 1781. Just six years later, delegates gathered in Philadelphia for a Constitutional Convention. They threw out the Articles, drafted a new constitution, and sent it to the states for ratification. In 1789, less than twelve months after the Constitution was ratified, Congress passed the Bill of Rights, adding ten amendments to the original document. The states approved several additional amendments over the coming decades to close loopholes in the original text or clarify ambiguous language.
The framers never believed they were creating a perfect union, but a more perfect one. They expected future generations to take up the mantle of improvement. Many generations embraced the challenge. The post-Civil War amendments abolished slavery, the 19th Amendment extended suffrage to white women, and the Civil Rights Acts of the 1960s extended suffrage to people of color. The true founding legacy—that every generation has the obligation to make the nation more perfect for subsequent generations—is one that both expects and invites thoughtful, informed participation.
As we prepare to mark these uniquely American milestones, we must not treat them as nostalgic, ceremonial mile-markers, but as civic catalysts.
If we treat the semiquincentennial as a season of civic renewal—an American “civic renaissance”—we can make civic learning as fundamental as literacy and math. Without it, democracy withers. Just as we teach every child to read, we must teach every child to lead. As U.S. Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis famously wrote, “[t]he most important political office is that of the private citizen.” To claim that mantle, Americans of all ages must see their role as citizen as central to their daily lives. Civics needs to feel real and alive, and relevant at all phases of a person’s life—from pre-K to grey. It is not only the essential work of our nation’s schools, but also of parents, grandparents, and caregivers to instill civic knowledge and virtue in our nation’s young people. We must also make constitutional engagement a valued public ritual, model civil discourse, invest in civic educators inside and outside the classroom, and protect and celebrate civic spaces like museums, libraries, and historical sites. Reviving constitutional culture means teaching it, practicing it, celebrating it, and modeling it—together, across divides, and for our entire lifespans.
Our organizations, the National Constitution Center and Mount Vernon, as well as other museums, historic sites, and civic education groups, through innovative digital resources, public programs, and even bolder interventions, are leading the charge to redefine for millions of Americans what it means to be a thoughtful, engaged citizen.
As we prepare to celebrate 250 years of independence, the question is not only how we will honor the past, but how we will write our next chapters together?
Lindsay Chervinsky is the presidential historian and Executive Director of the George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon.
Julie Silverbrook is Vice President of Civic Education at the National Constitution Center.
An attendee wears a U.S. flag during a candlelight vigil for Turning Point USA Founder Charlie Kirk on September 10, 2025 in Seattle, Washington.
The cold-blooded murder of the young, conservative activist Charlie Kirk yesterday is a tragic reminder of the state of our nation. We must awaken ourselves to the harsh truth that confronts us: while our politics are broken, something much deeper and more profound is happening in America. We face a cultural and human dilemma.
So, let’s tell the truth. We need more truth-tellers.
Too often these days, a commitment to decency is replaced with cruelty and capricious acts. People’s inherent dignity gets lip service while so many Americans suffer and lose hope. Rhetorical prayers and condolences take the place of real action, which we so desperately need today.
There is too much hatred, bigotry, and demonization of one another in our land. Knee-jerk finger-pointing takes the place of actual leadership. Condescension and acrimony persist when we need empathy and compassion the most. Hubris and certitude dangerously crowd out humility.
Many of us are exhausted by all the noise and confusion. I know I am. We must awaken ourselves. We must not succumb to fear and feelings of powerlessness amid these challenges. Resistance alone is no substitute for an articulation of what we are for. We need to not only muster a shared will to face our challenges, but we must also find the courage to join with others and embrace the possibilities that we know in our hearts.
Indeed, we must remind ourselves of something else we already know: in all the distractions, we can lose sight of the inherent and innate goodness of people. But it exists. Routinely, I travel across the country from the most conservative to the most liberal strongholds and everywhere in between. Most of the time, I cannot tell who is a Republican, Democrat, or Independent. Instead, I see, hear, and experience Americans. Every day people. Human beings who are yearning for better lives. Who says that we can do better and be better? Those who desire to put this country on a more hopeful trajectory moving forward.
Let us remember who we are and what we seek as human beings.
This requires that we face the real challenges before us. Our broken politics are but a symptom of a larger cultural and human dilemma we face in our communities and the country. Fragmentation. Loneliness. Negativity. Despair. A lack of belief in ourselves and one another.
People experience these challenges regardless of who they voted for in the last election. Indeed, they have been brewing for decades, even as recent years have accelerated and deepened our cultural plight.
I call on us—on all Americans, no matter your political persuasion—to reject more divisive politics and choose a new civic path instead. This is how we can address our cultural and human dilemma, not simply because I believe it. But because I see people every day forging this new and more hopeful path in the local communities where I’m working. Everywhere from Florida to Ohio to North Carolina to California to Alabama to Kentucky and beyond.
Indeed, this work must begin in our local communities. That’s where we can turn outward toward one another, see and hear each other, uphold each other’s dignity, and build anew together. That’s where we can begin to restore our belief in one another and our nation.
It is possible. It is doable. It is vital.
So here’s what I ask of you. Join me and thousands of others who have already embraced this new civic path for America. Let us not give up or give in to despair, hatred, toxic political battles, or violence. We must not surrender—not now, not ever.
Let us awaken ourselves. Let’s get to work. It’s time to build a more hopeful future. We are meant to go together.
We can do this. We must do this. Our communities and our very nation depend on it. Join me.
Rich Harwood is the president and founder of The Harwood Institute.
“I promise, things will get better. The country won’t always be like this.” Those are the words I spoke to my 20-year-old daughter on Wednesday, Sept. 10.
My Gen Z daughter was shaken up after watching the video of the assassination of Charlie Kirk on social media, and on the same day as another school shooting at Evergreen High School in Evergreen, Colorado, hospitalizing three students with gunshot wounds, as well as the ongoing news coverage of one of the most repulsive child sexual predators in American history’s relationship with the current president.
The grief that Kirk’s family and friends are experiencing after his tragic and senseless death is unfathomable and is not being dismissed here, but there is also a broader sense of pain being experienced by younger generations in America.
Being 20 years old in America today means coming of age in a political landscape that often feels fractured, volatile, and devoid of empathy. For many young adults, this isn't just background noise; it's the defining context of their early adulthood.
Many young adults, like my daughter, were not alive in the days following the horrific attacks on Sept. 11, 2001. They find it inconceivable that we, as a nation, came together to rally around our heroes and heal from the unfathomable grief as one.
Instead, they lived through a global pandemic, which seemed to break our country apart even further than it was before 2020.
The witnessing of evil acts of political violence, which unfortunately has become commonplace, adds a layer of genuine fear to what should be formative years of exploration and growth.
Social media only amplifies this tension. Platforms that were once spaces for sharing photos and staying connected with friends and family have become battlegrounds for political messaging. The algorithm-driven nature of social media platforms means individuals are often exposed to increasingly extreme content, making the political landscape appear even more divided than it might be.
Our hyperpolarization also creates an exhausting social dynamic. Simple conversations about current events can quickly turn into heated debates or uncomfortable silences. The pressure to have “correct” political opinions and to express them in precisely the right way can feel overwhelming. Many young people report feeling anxious about posting anything that could be interpreted politically yet also feeling guilty for staying silent on important issues.
Many 20-year-olds describe feeling like they must constantly navigate political landmines in their daily interactions, whether at school, work, or at family gatherings.
It is also affecting their dating habits. According to a recent NPR/PBS News/Marist poll, a majority of Americans under 45 say it's important to date or marry someone who shares their political views. Among Gen Z and young millennials—those 18-29—six in ten feel it's important, compared to just a third of Baby Boomers, those Americans over 60.
For a 20-year-old, this social and political environment creates a strange cognitive dissonance—trying to build a future while wondering if basic democratic institutions will remain stable or even continue to exist. Instead of thinking about voting for a more hopeful and hope-filled candidate, they worry about whether we continue to have free and fair elections.
Despite the challenges, many young adults are developing sophisticated political thinking and strong civic engagement. They're learning to fact-check information, think critically about media sources, and engage with complex policy issues.
A survey following the 2020 election showed that Gen Zers are more politically knowledgeable than older Millennials and that “Gen Z Is Anything but Politically Ill-Informed.”
As a mother and a citizen, I am proud of the resilience and innovation of this generation.
Young people are finding new ways to engage politically that bypass traditional channels. They are organizing online, creating independent media, and building communities around shared values rather than party labels.
They also seem to understand that what we are living through is not strictly because of “the left” or of “the right”, rather it is an American problem, with all its nuance.
Living through this period, as a young adult, means accepting uncertainty as a constant. But it also means being part of a generation that's learning to navigate complexity, build resilience, and potentially reshape American political culture in more constructive directions.
As someone who lived through part of the 1960s and all the 1970s, I understood my daughter’s sadness at living in this America during this time period, but I could reassure her that things will get better, and we will all, once again, live in brighter days. But it will require all of us to embrace our common humanity, reject dividers and instead look towards unifiers, and rebuild stable institutions.
This is what we owe our children.
Lynn Schmidt is a columnist and Editorial Board member with the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. She holds a master's of science in political science as well as a bachelor's of science in nursing.
