Image via Politico
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The recent assassination of conservative political figure Charlie Kirk has triggered a nationwide scramble to place blame. Within hours of the shooting, politicians and commentators alike were already drawing conclusions about the political stances of Tyler Robinson, the alleged shooter.
Late-night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel received major backlash for accusing MAGA supporters of distancing themselves from Robinson, stating, “We hit some new lows over the weekend, with the MAGA gang desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them and doing everything they can to score political points from it.”
Frankly, Kimmel wasn’t wrong. MAGA spokespersons, including Vice President JD Vance, have already summed the shooting up as a result of “left-wing extremism.” The need to categorize Robinson’s political beliefs only serves those who aim to use tragedy as their personal weapon. However, as more evidence in this case emerges, understanding Robinson’s motives becomes much more complicated than his affiliation with the left or right.
So, what do we actually know about Kirk’s killer?
According to voter records, Robinson was not registered with any political party and did not vote in the 2024 presidential election. A relative of his reported that he had grown “more political” in recent years, and while some evidence in the form of personal text messages seems to suggest criticism of Kirk’s conservative “hatred,” his true political affiliation remains largely unknown.
What much of the public has turned their focus to, instead, are engraved messages left on bullet cases recovered at the scene. The writings referenced video games, furry subculture memes, trolling language, and even the antifascist anthem “Bella Ciao.” Far from a definite manifesto, the engravings represent fragments of online subcultures.
Researchers note that many recent shooters, like Robinson, have deliberately created a trail of contradictory political messaging behind their violence—a phenomenon associated with something called “accelerationism,” where extremists aim to destabilize society itself as opposed to destabilizing a specific political party. Some theorize that Robinson’s bullet casing inscriptions suggest “performative violence,” intended less to promote his own views, but more so to stage an online spectacle. As it appears, Robinson wanted to confuse or mock anyone (specifically, law enforcement) searching for true meaning or answers in his ridiculous, meme-riddled writings.
Despite the apparent meaninglessness of the bullet casing messages, the inscriptions only fueled more speculation about Robinson’s political affiliations, with many pointing to his perceived digital overlaps with the “Groypers,” the far-right followers of conservative political commentator Nick Fuentes, who had been seen frequently targeting Kirk via social media for being “too moderate.” Many have connected Robinson’s usage of memes and online rhetoric, including the “Bella Ciao” inscribed bullet casing (a traditionally anti-fascist song reclaimed by Groypers and found on online Groyper-themed playlists), to the extremist-right group. Fuentes himself denied any connection, and evidence of association still remains inconclusive.
What does remain clear, though, is that Robinson inhabited niche online spaces—many of which also fueled Kirk’s rise to popularity. Kirk built his influence through viral clips, podcast commentary, and TikTok videos—all of which promote meme culture and political polarization. Kirk’s speaking style, although polished on the outside, was rewarded for its shock value, and often relied on trolling language that appeared in corners of the internet Robinson had been known to frequent.
The true irony in this case is that both Kirk and his killer were, in many ways, products of the same warped digital environment.
America’s current online ecosystem poses a strong danger. The internet proves to be a useful tool in destabilizing once-shared political norms and eroding truthfulness by promoting content that elicits a stronger emotional reaction and higher engagement, which tends to be content featuring misinformation, extremism, and hate speech. Additionally, social media allows this content to be freely spread and accessed. When it gets into the wrong hands, seemingly harmless online trolling can promote real-life violence, and online communities once dismissed as insignificant subcultures now have tangible consequences, specifically in shaping impressionable young people.
The details of the Kirk assassination highlight how meme culture has entered the bloodstream of American politics, and it is not predicted to be leaving any time soon. When a governor is forced to read phrases like, “If you read this, you are gay LMAO,” off of bullet casings during a press conference, it is easy to laugh, but know that the absurdity hides a grim reality of performative political violence meant for an online audience.
If online trolling remains indistinguishable from real political radicalization, and if meme-saturated shooters can’t be neatly categorized into the left or right, then America will continue to misdiagnose the threat and blame “the other side.” Kirk’s death, in this way, is not just about Robinson or his personal ideology, but about what happens when an entire political system allows itself to be poisoned by toxic meme slop.
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This article was edited by Vedha Gokul.