Social media is an ugly and contemptuous place for public discourse — but is it really driving an increase in political violence? 

Last week’s assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk was just the latest in a string of violent outbursts from individuals seemingly radicalized by our hateful modern politics. And news of lawmakers subsequently receiving threats against their lives in numerous states, including here in Nevada, only underscores how dangerous our politics have become. 

Despite not being representative of most Americans on the left, the most egregious examples of hateful posts following Kirk’s murder last week make it easy to see how the White House, reporters and social scientists would be quick to blame the “online radicalization” of social media for such wanton political violence. After all, even in relatively calm times, social media is a hellscape of online trolls and hate-fueled bigotry toward divergent opinions — a cesspool of malicious “hot takes,” misinformation and partisan tripe that eggs on our worst tribal tendencies. 

Indeed, if there was ever a technology seemingly tailor-made for spoon-feeding narcotic-grade extremism to discontented or murderous young men, the algorithms clogging our timelines would certainly seem fit for purpose. According to early reports, for example, Kirk’s shooter had engraved his bullets with words plucked from “anti-fascist” online memes and those close to him said he had spent considerable time scrolling the “dark corners of the internet.”

However, the fact that online meme culture might have influenced the shooter’s outlook isn’t indicative that social media is, itself, some unhinged catalyst for radicalization. 

Radicalism, murder and violence in the name of one’s beliefs are nothing new; history is replete with such examples. And while today’s murderous fanatics might find inspiration online, it’s only because “online” is where everyone tends to spend much of their time in the 21st century. 

Or, to put it another way, social media didn’t give Tyler Robinson his grandfather’s rifle, put it to his shoulder and pull the trigger while Kirk spoke to a crowd of college students — and no number of memes can reasonably be more culpable for such an act than the shooter himself. 

In another time, Kirk’s shooter might have just as easily been radicalized by violent revolutionary leftists bombing police stations or cross-burning white nationalists wearing pointy hoods and flowing robes — radicalized by extremists face-to-face or through news headlines, in the same way violent, self-proclaimed revolutionaries and resistance fighters were recruited throughout most of human history. 

Political violence, as well as the misinformation and propaganda that so often encourages it, is as old as human history. Indeed, our current technological era seems relatively peaceful compared to moments in the past where political assassinations, violent partisan movements and outright war were not only far more prolific, but also considered an ordinary part of daily life. 

In the years that followed the Civil War, for example, political violence was not only common, but it was also tacitly endorsed by political factions as a routine method for gaining regional dominance during elections. Ordinary voters were regularly kidnapped, beaten and targeted by partisan gangs looking to terrorize local populations into submission. Postwar violence had become so ugly that, by 1877, two dozen political officials in America had been fatally attacked for their political views — a tally that doesn’t even include President Abraham Lincoln’s high-profile assassination at Ford’s Theatre. 

Even more recently, our political ecosystem has been bloodied and bruised by remarkably regular terroristic violence. The 1960s, for example, were a decade of massive upheaval and political tension that included the political assassinations of Robert and John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcom X and many others. The leftist group Weather Underground bombed 25 government buildings in a single year and even the 1968 Democratic National Convention couldn’t wrestle itself free from violent chaos. 

Such historical political violence was, clearly, not driven by online memes or radical discourse emanating from some social media app. Instead, it existed as it had always existed: fomented by genuine political conflict and hijacked by unhinged individuals. 

The only thing that has really changed over the decades has been the method by which we, as a society, communicate with each other and spread our ideas. Our world has moved online — and so too have the same forces that encourage lone wolves, violent organizations and entire communities to lash out against their fellow human beings. 

It’s an unsurprising shift, as online is now where ideas are shared, news is distributed and personal connections are made in our modern world. It’s where we educate ourselves, find entertainment and, with increasing regularity, it’s even where many Americans seek love. It’s where we disagree, find community and interact with the broader world around us. 

It is our world digitized — both good and bad. As Colorado Gov. Jared Polis said on ABC's This Week, “Social media is simply the way we talk and communicate in this day and age, for better or worse.” 

To be sure, it would be comforting to think all fault lies with the tech giants that manipulate our social feeds with algorithms designed to keep us glued to our screens. However, extremism and political violence weren’t invented by the internet, nor are they inspired solely by political malcontents posting unhinged memes on social media. Such radicalism instead finds inspiration anywhere there’s political conflict.

And yes, there’s plenty of conflict to be found online. But that’s merely because the internet is increasingly where people choose to spend their lives. The consequential driver of radicalism in politics is the way we navigate such conflict, not merely the technology we use to do so. Approaching our political others with disdain or contempt — as has become a depressing norm in modern times — inherently provides fertile soil for the sort of extremism that can often turn violent.

Being more charitable and empathetic toward those with whom we disagree doesn’t require us to shut off our internet connections or stop sharing memes. It merely requires an effort to “disagree better,” regardless of whether or not it feels like “the other side” is prepared to do the same. 

Michael Schaus is a communications and branding expert based in Las Vegas, Nevada, and founder of Schaus Creative LLC — an agency dedicated to helping organizations, businesses and activists tell their story and motivate change. He has more than a decade of experience in public affairs commentary, having worked as a news director, columnist, political humorist, and most recently as the director of communications for a public policy think tank. Follow him on Twitter @schausmichael or on Substack @creativediscourse.

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