By Colleen Conklin
Charlie Kirk’s assassination feels like more than another entry in America’s long and tragic list of political violence. It feels like a hinge point — a moment when the air itself changes. Years from now, historians may mark this event not only for who it took, but for what it revealed about who we are — and who we might still become.
To see this clearly, we must be honest about the soil we’ve been cultivating as a nation. We live in an era where dialogue is driven less by real conversation than by algorithms — algorithms that thrive on outrage, reward division, and flatten people into caricatures of their politics. For some, Charlie Kirk was a voice of unapologetic conservatism, a defender of values they felt were slipping away. For others, he was a megaphone of racism, misogyny, and fear. Neighbors weren’t hearing the same man at all. They were hearing only the talking points filtered through their chosen feeds, their chosen networks, their chosen tribe.
This is not new. America has always wrestled with generational divides over values. Archie Bunker, the television character who became an unlikely symbol of the 1970s, embodied those tensions. His views were often offensive, narrow, and deeply out of step even then. Yet audiences could also see the contradictions — his fierce loyalty to family, his patriotism, his rough willingness to help a neighbor in need regardless of the color of their skin. Viewers could reject his prejudices without rejecting him entirely. They could still see the flawed humanity underneath.
That’s what feels different today. Too often, we are not seeing the person at all — only the ideology. Humanity is stripped away, leaving only categories of “ally” or “enemy.” It’s in that soil, hardened by fear and poisoned by division, that our children are growing up.
A Generation Raised in Fear
For today’s young people, fear is not abstract. It is daily life. They are the first generation to practice lockdown drills as routinely as fire drills, to carry the knowledge of school shootings like an invisible backpack heavier than any textbooks. They came of age in a pandemic that robbed them of friendships and normal milestones. They’ve seen politics divide neighbors, churches, and even families around the dinner table.
All of this has been amplified by the megaphone of social media, which doesn’t merely share information but distorts it, weaponizes it, and recycles outrage until even borrowed anger feels like one’s own. For many young people, their inheritance is not wisdom but exhaustion — not perspective but polarization.
Of course, every generation resists parts of what it inherits. Many of us remember rejecting Archie Bunker’s prejudices, even as we recognized his rough humanity. We could see the flawed ideology and the decency that lived side by side.
The danger now is that humanity itself is being stripped away, leaving only ideology. Too many young people are growing up in a culture that teaches them to categorize people by their beliefs first and their humanity second — if at all. And when the soil is poisoned with fear and violence, the roots that grow are often stunted.
The Fourth Turning
Historians William Strauss and Neil Howe in The Fourth Turning describe history as a cycle, revolving like seasons every 80 to 100 years. Their theory suggests that periods of stability give way to disruption. Institutions crack and trust collapses. In these “Fourth Turnings,” young people come of age in the crucible of chaos. It’s an excellent read, I’d highly recommend it.
The last such cycle gave us the Greatest Generation. Forged in the deprivation of the Great Depression and tested on the battlefields of World War II, its children were shaped by hardship but also defined by resilience. From the rubble, they built. From their wounds, they cauterized a vision of America that endured for decades.
Today’s youth are entering their own Fourth Turning. Their crucible is not Pearl Harbor or Normandy but lockdown drills, pandemics, fractured economies, and relentless polarization. They are scarred — but history suggests scars can be the beginning of strength. If the pattern holds, they may yet rise to become the next Greatest Generation. We could be wringing our hands, worried about a dystopian future. Or we could have faith that the next generation will be the one to redeem us. But whether they do depends in part on what we hand them.
Our Responsibility
Generations don’t emerge in isolation. They are cultivated, for better or worse, by the soil we tend. If all we offer them is fear and cynicism, then we cannot be surprised when violence is the only crop. But if we choose to plant something different–compassion stronger than ideology, courage rooted in empathy, the ability to separate people from their ideas–what then grows could astonish us.
This doesn’t mean softening our convictions or pretending differences don’t matter. It means rediscovering what earlier generations, for all their flaws, sometimes modeled more clearly than we have. Think again of Archie Bunker. Viewers could reject what was harmful in his words while still recognizing his loyalty, his love for his family, and his capacity for kindness.
That kind of balance is almost unthinkable in our current climate, where disagreement often means total rejection. But if we are serious about preparing the next generation to rise above fear, we must recover that discipline: to separate a person’s dignity from their ideology, to stand against destructive ideas without discarding the human being who holds them.
The responsibility is sobering. It is also hopeful. Because what we model today may be what saves us tomorrow.
The Hinge Point
Charlie Kirk’s death will be remembered as a turning point for many. But what follows is not only about him — it is about us, and about the generation that is watching us far more closely than we realize. The children of this generation are asking, even if silently: What does it mean to be an adult in times like these? What does courage look like? What does love look like? Why must I choose sides?
The answers will shape them more than any textbook, newsfeed, or viral video. Soil matters.
The last Fourth Turning gave us the Greatest Generation. This one could, too. But only if we are willing to tend the ground beneath our feet — to plant seeds of courage, compassion, and humanity that will outlive us.
The soil is ours to till.
Dr. Colleen Conklin, a Flagler Beach resident, was a Flagler County School Board member from 2000 to 2024.
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