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Still, there was a subtle tension in the five-hour ceremony, buried under copious layers of American certitude, pageantry and self-congratulation. Surely, Erika Kirk’s haunting call for forgiveness cannot sit easily beside Stephen Miller’s insistence on an existential battle between good and evil.
Miller, the hardliner who has orchestrated Trump’s crackdowns on immigration and crime, invoked the myth of the warrior and the storm. “Erika is the storm. We are the storm,” he said. “And our enemies cannot comprehend our strength, our determination, our resolve, our passion … we will prevail.”
President Donald Trump with Erika Kirk at the memorial for her husband.Credit: AP
Trump himself made the differences clear. He admitted he could not match Charlie Kirk for mercy and compassion.
“He did not hate his opponents. He wanted the best for them,” Trump said. “That’s where I disagree with Charlie. I hate my opponent and I don’t want the best for them. I’m sorry … Maybe they can convince me that that’s not right, but I can’t stand my opponent.”
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It was tongue-in-cheek, and it got the laughs. But there was a dark truth underneath.
Of all people, it was former Fox News host Tucker Carlson who tried to cleave apart church from state, just a fraction. He said Kirk was a political person, deeply interested in building coalitions behind the conservative agenda, but that he also knew politics was “not the final answer”, and couldn’t probe the deepest questions.
“Politics at its core is a process of critiquing other people and getting them to change … Christianity calls upon you to change,” Carlson said.
“Our core prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, demands that we forgive other people. But preceding that is a request for our forgiveness. That is a call to change our hearts, and that is the only way forward in this country.”
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The message would have resonated with many of the people in attendance – and those who couldn’t make it. As with so many large events in the US, the logistics were poor, with no signs or information to guide thousands of confused attendees who didn’t know which line to join, where the lines led, or if they would get in. Meanwhile, they sweltered in the Arizona heat.
Dan Tanner was one of those who was turned away as the stadium filled up. It took him two days to drive his 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS – decked out in an American flag paint job and “I Am Charlie” banner – the 2500 kilometres from Minnesota to Phoenix.
Dan Tanner and his 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS outside State Farm Stadium in Phoenix. Tanner was one of those who was turned away as the stadium filled up.Credit: Michael Koziol
Still, he was not perturbed. “I didn’t get in, but I’m here,” Tanner said as he blasted music on a lawn outside the stadium. “People are enjoying the car. I’m getting a lot of thumbs up, handshakes. Everybody that’s here, they’re here for love, they’re here for Charlie, they’re here for America.
“There is the other side, of course. Hopefully, some day we can all get together and make things work, so [that] maybe there is no ‘two sides’, there’s just unity – unity in America.”
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