Charlie Kirk's spirit burns bright in those of us fighting for free speech

Connie Shaw, FSU External Affairs Officer

14 September 2026

The activist, who was assassinated a year ago, inspired thousands of young people like me to stand up for our beliefs. Connie Shaw writes for The Telegraph.

"When people stop talking, that's when you get violence." It was as if Charlie Kirk had uttered a prophecy.

For a year ago today he was murdered by someone who wished to silence him. Many will never forget where they were when they heard he had been shot in front of hundreds of students on the campus of Utah Valley University.

His killing was a major wake-up call for all those fighting in the "culture wars": people like me. For I faced the wrath of the woke mob after speaking my mind at my university, Leeds.

Events are sometimes referred to as "pre" and "post" Charlie Kirk. The horrifying imagery of his brutal assassination is forever etched into our brains, thanks to the fact the video quickly circulated on social media. Occasionally, those scenes randomly flash through my head. I still can't believe it happened.

But that wasn't where the evil ended. Sometimes, as Douglas Murray says, a flare goes up and you can see where everyone is standing. This was one of those moments.

According to an eyewitness quoted by the BBC, students who had come to protest Charlie Kirk seemed to celebrate after he was shot. Across the US, and in the UK, more students joined in – including, infamously, George Abaraonye, the then-incoming president of the Oxford Union. He had stood directly opposite Charlie in a debate only months prior.

Others, although they did not actively celebrate, still seemed to consider Charlie Kirk's murder somewhat justified. Some critics appear to have been taken in by the false belief that words are a form of violence, and thus those who say them can be met with violence in return.

Some could not comprehend that it was possible to disagree with many things Charlie Kirk said but still admire him for his skill and willingness to debate and even feel distress and sadness about his death. In other words, they couldn't comprehend the ability to have standard human empathy.

In the immediate aftermath, I expressed my sadness and disbelief online to those I knew personally. In response, someone commented: "Charlie Kirk was a terrible person." Another messaged me privately to ask why I was sad about what had happened, and interrogated me on whether I agreed with everything he said. I explained honestly that I didn't, but that I was still devastated.

Considering my own university almost expelled me for my own views (opinions which led to considerable social ostracisation), being asked to explain myself for being sad about the assassination of a free-speech champion felt like a sick joke.

The reaction to Ann Widdecombe's death was similarly disheartening. Instead of simply acknowledging the success of her political career and her formidable character, her ideological opponents felt the need to announce disclaimers stating they did not agree with her political stances. One trans activist, Heather Herbert, after police said they believed Ann had been murdered, posted on social media that he hoped she had an "extremely painful death".

In stark contrast to those attitudes, the Free Speech Union offered its support to both Abaraonye and Herbert. Yes, their comments were disgusting and offensive. But it is not a criminal offence to speak ill of the dead, and I am certain that both Ann and Charlie would have defended their right to express themselves.

It is about time the progressive Left, which often boasts about being on the "right side of history", could return the favour to those whose views they find offensive.

It says a lot about the strength of an argument if the response to the opposition is to silence them. Charlie did the opposite. He invited debate, dedicating his time to allowing students to test his ideas relentlessly on university campuses, always engaging in good faith. In May 2025, my friend Maeve Halligan – the founding president of the Cambridge University Society of Women – and I invited students to debate us about women's rights on Leeds University campus.

We sat there for six hours fielding questions and debating. Crowds formed. We were sworn at by students and staff alike, and eventually had our signs stolen by a male trans activist, and a member of staff replaced them with trans flags.

Despite the abuse we suffered and vandalism, the student union encouraged those who felt affected or concerned about our stall to file complaints about us. One student encouraged others to "report Connie Shaw's presence on campus".

Yet, we also had students come up to us quietly to say they agreed that women deserve single-sex spaces, but knew it was too dangerous to express such a view at university. The ordeal demonstrated exactly why it was so important that we had done it. Charlie Kirk had played no small part in our inspiration to do so.

A growing number of young British activists have taken to debating in public. Regardless of whether you agree with their views, no one can deny that every time they are attacked by those who wish they would shut up, Charlie Kirk is proven right again.

Students need and deserve to hear every viewpoint when they go off to university. It is natural to feel frightened and refrain from putting your head above the parapet when it has been made clear that the potential price to be paid is a fatal one. But it is essential that Charlie Kirk's death has the opposite effect on those who care about freedom of speech. This sacred value must live on and flourish.

Read Connie's article for The Telegraph.