One thing we are taught in “Historical Research Methods and Logical Argumentation” is the weakness of arguments from silence. For this reason, this reflection is definitely not an argument. It is, rather, a kind of rumination about the responsibility to speak, or not to speak, in light of our different roles and responsibilities related to world events. And this reflection is occasioned in particular by the assassination of a public figure at Utah Valley University just over a week ago at the time of this writing.

I will not attempt to depict the victim of the shooting at Utah Valley in a sympathetic light, in part because I do not think it is necessary to do so. No doubt there are many different attitudes on campus towards his principles, his methods and his views. The Bible teaches us to “mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15), and there are many who mourn his death, including his family, his friends and his followers. But sympathy for his views or his principles is in some real sense irrelevant to a proper evaluation of what happened that tragic afternoon.

Consider a thought experiment in which the same thing happened not to someone associated with the Make America Great Again (MAGA) movement, or Donald Trump or conservative politics, but rather to someone from a radically different political, moral and religious perspective. I will not name any real people in this thought experiment, because I find it too horrific to contemplate it actually happening again to someone else. But we can imagine someone, for example, who holds radically progressive views, whether about sexuality, or income redistribution or foreign policy, who is also committed to articulating, defending and debating those views in public on college campuses. If something like that had happened to such a person, our conclusion about that ought to be the same as the one we should hold in light of what actually happened at Utah Valley: absolute condemnation for such violence. And we should do so merely on the basis of our shared humanity, regardless of our judgments about the validity of their views, the efficacy of their approach or the wisdom of their proposed policies. 

Historically, there have been assassinations of prophetic and polarizing people in American history, including non-politicians like Malcolm X and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. It would make for a fascinating term paper or research project for someone to explore how these kinds of events have been received by the Calvin community over its 150 years. But we know that in these first weeks after the Utah Valley assassination that there has been little said on campus publicly or formally about the death of the influential conservative commentator. A quick search of the Chimes website at the time of this writing finds “no results” for the victim’s name. To my knowledge there have been no announcements from the Calvin administration or public statements regarding the campus shooting at Utah Valley.

An insightful man once observed that “there is too much to think about.” This is true, and there is likewise too much to speak about. And if honesty is the best policy, then silence has to be almost second-best: “When words are many, sin is unavoidable” (Proverbs 10:19). But we know too that “there is a time for everything,” including “a time to be silent and a time to speak” (Ecclesiastes 3:1,7). In the immediate aftermath of the deaths of so many in recent years including George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Trayvon Martin and too many others, leaders on many college campuses deemed it a time to speak. We have even heard in the wake of such tragedies that “silence is violence,” a phrase that does happen to appear in the Chimes archives in connection with controversy over the Black Lives Matter movement.

Is silence in the face of injustice violence? Certainly it can be, depending on the situation and our ability and responsibility to speak. But should we interpret silence about the Utah Valley assassination as tacit approval of such violence? 

The Heidelberg Catechism teaches that part of the commandment against false testimony includes the positive duty to “love the truth, speak it candidly and openly acknowledge it.” For many, that is precisely what the victim of the shooting at Utah Valley University had committed his life to doing. But the Catechism also continues by teaching that each one of us is to do what we can “to guard and advance my neighbor’s good name.” This duty includes, I think, interpreting the words and deeds of our neighbors — including their silence — as charitably as possible, or at least as charitably as plausible. And I think it is plausible to interpret the silence around the most recent death not as violence, or tacit approval of, or as permissive toward such violence, but rather as prudential decisions made in the context of a recent history of speaking too much, too quickly or too imprudently. 

In my weaker moments I do find it dubious that if something like this had happened to a figure of a different political persuasion or skin color or sex that there might be much more speaking and far less silence on Calvin’s campus. But maybe we have finally learned that silence is not necessarily violence and have found the wisdom of keeping silent. Perhaps what happened at Utah Valley is so beyond the pale that nothing more needs to be said. Silence is not always the right answer, of course, and we are accountable both for what we have done and for what we have not done, for what we say and for what we have left unsaid. This calls for wisdom. And it calls for charity. These are both virtues that are in scarce supply these days. 

In addition to the idea that “silence is violence,” we also have sometimes heard the call to “say their names,” referring particularly to the victims of racial injustice. It might indeed be the path of prudence for there not to be official statements or formal proclamations following the assassination at Utah Valley University. But it does seem appropriate that the victim’s name might be said at least once: Charlie Kirk. Let us hope and pray that we are given no more occasions to remain silent any time soon.