Skip to main content

Martyrs and Storms: The Charlie Kirk Memorial as Fascist Liturgy

Figure 1: Stephen Miller at the Charlie Kirk funeral (from Stephen Miller Laces Into 'Enemies' at Charlie Kirk Memorial)

In State Farm Stadium's shadow, under the same lights raining down upon Super Bowls and spectacles of empire, tens of thousands gathered on September 21, 2025, for Charlie Kirk's funeral. It was promoted as a funeral. It was, in fact, a resurrection ritual.

The 31-year-old Turning Point USA co-founder who had been just gunned down at a Utah campus rally a few days earlier was reborn in that instant—not as victim, but as martyr. Red, white, and blue flags waved in the air. Faces equated grief with grievance. And the choreography of the event enacted what it was actually about: a fascist liturgy, consecrating Kirk as saint and warrior in a holy war for the nation's soul.

A Rally in Disguise as a Eulogy

It wasn't jus another service. With the Department of Homeland Security numbering it alongside the Super Bowl, TSA checkpoints and federal agents ringed the arena. Inside, the mise-en-scène rivaled Nuremberg, slogans reading "NEVER SURRENDER REMEMBER CHARLIE KIRK" plastered everywhere, minute-long ovations, minute-long chanting of "We Are conservatives." uniting tens of thousands into one body politic.

Pastor Rob McCoy invoked scripture. Benny Johnson declared Kirk a martyr "in the true Christian tradition." President Trump and Vice President JD Vance granted the power of state, the latter vowing Kirk's podcast to endure in his voice.

It was liturgy as logistics: grieving became mobilization, grievance as grief, Kirk's body being transformed into relic.

Christian Nationalism at the Core

At the center of this theater pulsed Christian nationalism—the fusion of evangelical zealotry with the mythology of a white ethno-state. Kirk himself embodied the archetype: young, white, straight, railing against queer and immigrant "threats" to "traditional values." His memorial sanctified that role, turning him into warrior-saint.

"Raise your hand if Charlie Kirk brought you closer to Christ," Johnson bellowed. Erika Kirk promised to carry the cross of her husband's work, linking Christian faith with organizational expansion. This was not mourning. It was theocratic infrastructure building, comparable to Modi's Hindutva in India or Orbán's illiberal Christendom in Hungary.

Kirk's death was framed not as a random shooting but as leftist terrorism assassination. His Calvary, America's salvation.

Stephen Miller's Inferno

The most telling moment came with Stephen Miller, Trump's Deputy Chief of Staff for Policy and Homeland Security Advisor. His six-minute half-elegy, half-edict speech laid out the fascist machinery in motion.

"You thought you could kill Charlie Kirk? You've immortalized him," he shouted, portraying a lone gunman as the emblem of a huge "left-wing terror" movement. The crowd applauded. The foe had been named. The purging was at hand.

Miller's repetition, "We are the storm," deliberately echoed Nazi propaganda regarding Horst Wessel, the murdered SA officer martyred and whose blood sanctified violence. As Wessel's blood sanctified the volk, Kirk's blood sanctified the MAGA faithful now.

The intention was clear: grief became state power. Miller pledged to bring the full palette of Homeland Security and Justice upon "identifying, disrupting, dismantling and destroying" the targeted networks that had killed Kirk. Policy violence wrapped in holy vestments.

From Ritual to Repression

And this is the fascist shift: language as edict, eulogy as dictum. Already, the regime threatens to investigate "left-wing factions" that "gloated" over Kirk's death. Vance urges supporters to cause "trouble" for critics online. Miller's "righteous indignation" becomes cover for deportations, ramped-up detention, and dismemberment of programs for vulnerable communities.

Bodies most at risk—trans kids, immigrants, Palestinians, Black activists—get converted into fuel for re-empowerment of white Christianity. The memorial, then, was not closure but opening shot.

Organizing Infrastructure

For Turning Point too, it was building infrastructure. Its biggest event ever, the memorial sowed new chapters, validated the fusion of spectacle and surveillance, and made Kirk a sainted disciple of Trump's.

Sergio Gor, longtime MAGA operative, declared Kirk "all Trump, personified MAGA." Trump himself described the legacy "automatic." But this "immortality" is based upon the violence Fanon warned against—the violence of the colonizer coming full circle in fresh resistances.

What Resistance Demands

And here is the danger: silence. The left's failure to speak out against the Christian supremacism that is at the heart of MAGA lets the narrative go unchallenged. To counter, we have to give voice to those Kirk attempted to silence—migrants, queer children, Indigenous water protectors, campus activists demonized as "snowflakes."

We have to uncover the monument not as tragedy but as template. Its message: fascism born on a cross and waving a flag. Its method: martyrdom rendered as mandate.

Kirk's death is a manifestation of the polarizing he engendered. His canonization is the metastasis of the symptom. And Miller's storm is not theirs alone. History tells us that storms cut both ways—where the dispossessed rise, as well.

The decision is ours: to relinquish the narrative or to construct otherwise. To name, to disassemble, to dream a pluriverse beyond the fever fantasias of white Christian empire.

Popular posts from this blog

The Haka, the Hurt, and the Work We Owe

  The Haka, the Hurt, and the Work We Owe An Indian in Aotearoa reflects on resistance, complicity, and the solidarities we have yet to build Mohan Jyoti Dutta I watched the haka. I watched it several times, in fact. Each time, I tried to sit with what I was feeling before reaching for what I was supposed to think. Let me be honest about who I am in this conversation, because that matters. I am an upper caste, upwardly mobile Indian man. I am a professor at a university in Aotearoa. I carry the accumulated privileges of Brahminical socialisation, of English-medium education, of institutional access that was never designed for the communities I now write about and alongside. I say this not as confession but as orientation — because where you stand shapes what you see, and I have learned, through years of working with communities at the margins, that the refusal to name your own location is itself a colonial habit. The haka directed at Parmjeet Parmar did not offend me. It ...

Whiteness, NCA, and Distinguished Scholars

In a post made in response to the changes to how my discipline operates made by the Executive Committee of the largest organization of the discipline, the National Communication Association (NCA), one of the editors of a disciplinary journal Rhetoric and Public Affairs (RPA), Professor Martin J. Medhurst, a Distinguished Scholar of the discipline, calls out what he sees as the threat of identity (see below for his full piece published in the journal that he has edited for 20+ years, with 2019 SJR score of 0.27). In what he notes is a threat to the "scholarly merit" of the discipline, Professor Medhurst sets up a caricature of what he calls "identity." In his rhetorical construction of the struggles the NCA has faced over the years to find Distinguished Scholars of colour, he shares with us the facts. So let's look at the facts presented by this rhetor. It turns out, as a member of the Distinguished Scholar community of the NCA, Mr. Medhurst has problems with w...

The Substack and the Slur: How a Manufactured Crisis Toppled a Wahine Māori Political Editor

  The Substack and the Slur: How a Manufactured Crisis Toppled a Wahine Māori Political Editor On the architecture of the Aotearoa culture-war machine, and the danger it poses to a democracy heading into 2026 There is a particular cadence to the afternoon on which the career of a senior Māori journalist  at TVNZ is finished. It is unhurried. It begins with a tweet — in this case, a single image of a typed statement, posted by Maiki Sherman, the now-former political editor of TVNZ, on the afternoon of Friday, 8 May 2026, announcing that she had parted ways with the broadcaster. The post was terse, dignified, and final. As RNZ later reported , Sherman wrote that the scrutiny of the previous week had placed enormous pressure on her and rendered her role "untenable." The first wahine Māori to lead a major broadcaster's political team was gone. The story that finished her had not, ten days earlier, existed in any newspaper, on any wire, on any website you would consider mai...