[FOX] "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."
William Butler Yeats wrote those words about Europe after the Great War, but they ring with terrible clarity this week as we bury Charlie Kirk, murdered at 31 for the crime of arguing in public. The young man who built an empire of discourse from a suburban garage has been silenced by someone who apparently found bullets more persuasive than words.
But here is what strikes me as I reflect on this tragedy: Charlie Kirk may have been the last American who genuinely believed you could change someone's mind with a good argument. Think about that. When was the last time you saw someone actually switch positions during a debate? When did you last witness someone say three of the most treasured words in the English language: "I was wrong?"
My younger son understood this belief. He called me after Kirk’s death and shared something that possibly captured our national descent. "Dad," he said, "I used to be like Charlie Kirk— I used to think people could be persuaded with reason."
My son learned otherwise during the 2016 election, while in graduate school. He started getting several calls a day from classmates wanting to understand how he could support someone they genuinely believed was the modern-day equivalent of Hitler. These graduate students—educated, intelligent people pursuing MBAs—literally thought Trump was on par with Hitler and were calling my son because they could not reconcile how someone like him could support such evil.
So, in good faith, he engaged everyone who contacted him. From his own account: "I came to business school to learn things like accounting, not to practice defending myself from being called a Nazi. I lost friends through this period, and it ended up being one of the hardest times of my life."
Let me advance an unconventional thesis: Charlie Kirk died because we have forgotten how to hate properly. G.K. Chesterton observed that "the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind [or next to] him." We fight not for hatred of our enemies but love of our fellow soldiers and the ideals of our country. We have inverted this wisdom. We teach our young people to hate their opponents rather than love their own principles. We have made politics a blood sport precisely because we have drained it of transcendent meaning. When you believe in nothing greater than your own righteousness, the only thing left is to destroy those who challenge your certainty.
As my son lost friends, he did something quite understandable. Shortly after Trump's election, he stopped actively participating in politics—watching the news, talking about it with friends, and reading the articles he used to read daily. "I found myself getting physically uncomfortable when the news came on," he told me. "Defending yourself against being called a Nazi, racist, sexist, endlessly just for communicating relatively common-sense ideas like boys go to the boys' bathroom and girls go to the girls' bathroom, or that throwing Molotov cocktails into police cars is a bad idea (something a classmate of his actually did during the George Floyd protests) just gets really draining after a while."
#2
Charlie Kirk died because we have forgotten how to hate properly.
Patton: Then there's one thing you men will be able to say when this war is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you're sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, 'What did you do in the great World War Two?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say 'Son, your granddaddy rode with the great Third Army and a son-of-a-goddamned-bitch named George Patton!'
#4
My son learned a hard, unfortunate lesson during graduate school, one countless other students have learned in recent years. The modern university, where Kirk met his end, has become the opposite of what John Henry Newman envisioned when he wrote "The Idea of a University." Newman imagined institutions where "a habit of mind is formed which lasts through life, of which the attributes are freedom, equitableness, calmness, moderation, and wisdom." Instead, we have created factories of fragility, where students pay $70,000 a year to have their prejudices confirmed and their triggers avoided.
The founders would have recognized Charlie immediately. Franklin with his junto, Hamilton with his newspapers, Jefferson with his correspondence, they all understood that democracy is an argument, not an answer. Madison wrote in Federalist 10 about the dangers of faction, but he never imagined we would solve the problem of faction with assassination.
Here is another unconventional thought: The problem is not that our universities are too political. They are not political in the classical sense of "political" that Aristotle meant when he called man a political animal. The university problem is that they are factories of indoctrination, especially in the liberal arts. Real politics requires engagement with difference, the ability to live alongside those you disagree with, the skill of persuasion rather than coercion. Our campuses have replaced politics with theology, and a particularly intolerant theology at that.
We have made the cost of conviction so high that capable, principled people retreat from public engagement entirely.
My son concluded his reflection with words that haunt me: "In those moments, having made the wrong choice at that juncture many times before, I hope I have the conviction and bravery to live it like Charlie and live it like Bill." He meant Charlie Kirk, of course. The other Bill he referenced was his father — me. I am humbled by the comparison but troubled by his confession. While he admittedly tossed his hat out of the ring, and entered the non-political world of finance, he has found his comfort and happiness. But at what cost to our society?
This is what we have done to our young people. We have made the cost of conviction so high that capable, principled people retreat from public engagement entirely. We have created a world where it is safer to be silent than to speak, safer to conform than to question, safer to hide than to stand. There is a certain relief in that. But it does not come without a cost.
The question before us is not whether we will have more Charlie Kirks—young people willing to brave hostility for their beliefs. We will. The question is whether we will have more like my son—capable people who retreat from public engagement because the cost has become too high. Few of the brightest people I know dream of entering politics—they dream of venture capital, private equity, the places where talent can still flourish without ideological inquisition. It makes brutal sense: Make enough money, and perhaps you can affect the change you want to see in society, safely insulated from the mob.
If we cannot make America safe for argument again—not just civil argument, but vigorous, passionate, even angry argument—then we should stop pretending we live in a democracy. In its literal etymological sense, democracy means "power of the people"—today it feels more like power of the perpetually aggrieved. If you are not consumed with rage, you are at home raising your family and going to work. So radical political movements naturally attract the angriest among us, not necessarily the wisest.
Charlie Kirk is dead at 31, but the idea he represented—that Americans can argue their way to truth rather than shoot their way to silence—must not die with him. My son's generation deserves better than the choice between silence and death. They deserve what Charlie Kirk tried to give them: a place at the table, a voice in the conversation, and the right to speak without being murdered for it. Our children and grandchildren deserve it.
#5
Not only do many of us believe you cannot persuade them anymore, they flaunt beliefs that are basically crimes against humanity. They glorify their own inhumanity. And so, we must treat them as they desire, as rabid animals needing to be culled.
#7
The assassination caused many masks to slip, some to fall off, not only in the US.
In a sermon broadcast by the German government tv chain ARD a pastor representing the German mainstream government affiliated protestant church EKD explicitly called the denial of Charlie Kirk's right-wing racism a diabolical act.
No free marketplace of ideas, no freedom of speech!
Charlie Kirk was the little Satan!
And and those who deny this are the little Satan too!
#8
Try telling them about reasonable doubt and George Floyd's toxicology report.
Posted by: Abu Uluque ||
09/21/2025 17:18 Comments ||
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#9
Hint: It doesn't work.
Posted by: Abu Uluque ||
09/21/2025 17:18 Comments ||
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#10
Kirk preached biblical Christianity. The other side will tell you what they believe in pride and envy. I’m sure if you look hard enough, the other five are in there too. At the end of the day, this is spiritual warfare. Charlie Kirk fought the good fight.
Posted by: Difar Dave ||
09/21/2025 19:34 Comments ||
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From Command: Modern Operations Facebook post By Vice Admiral (ret.) Georgios Floros
[Halldale] Picture this: in a windowless war room filled with hex maps, model ships, and the mixed scents of brewed coffee and cardboard, professional warriors and wannabe strategists alike gathered to simulate battle. Dice clattered, rules debated with the intensity of a treaty negotiation, and people argued over and over in what seemed as a beautiful chaos. This is just a screenshot of the era of manual wargames. An era that has never been surpassed and it certainly brings nostalgic memories to those who have actually lived it.
Nowadays, many of these rooms glow with the blue light of monitors. Wargames are being run on software that models radar propagation, satellite latency, sea state, and even the operational behavior of a stealth drone in Arctic conditions. And while some embrace the change, others stand their ground—concerned that digital wargaming might be missing the point entirely.
Are they right? Or are we perhaps misjudging a new chapter in the art of simulated conflict? Let's consider the critiques, the counterpoints, and the curious case of the resurrected aircraft carrier. I have to make it clear though, that I am among the ones that hold vivid memories from cardboards, coffee and even cigarette smoke (we even had that back then) and I do believe in the power and benefits of manual wargaming. But with an open mind I let myself embrace the goodies of the digital realm hence the inspiration for this writing.
THE DIGITAL WARGAMING REALM
Critics argue that digital wargaming creates a false sense of scientific rigor—an illusion of accuracy supported by graphs, charts, and visually stunning UI elements. They fear that behind the flash lies an opaque engine built on speculative assumptions and unverifiable models all on top of bits and bytes and Boolean algebra.
Let’s be honest. The real world is complicated. In the analog age, terrain was often a few colored contours on a map. In digital wargaming, terrain affects radar shadowing, line-of-sight, and even sound propagation. Weather, once a footnote, now dynamically shifts detection ranges and weapon accuracy.
And weapon systems? Digital simulations model their real-world parameters—acceleration, drag, seeker logic, midcourse guidance, and failure probabilities. Is it perfect? No. But it’s a lot closer to reality than a six-sided die.
Another common concern: the seductive certainty of the computer-generated outcome. Participants might trust the model too much, mistaking simulation for truth. I wouldn’t argue that if I didn’t know that the same goes with human umpires and adjudicators who, like wargame shamans, decide (based on what criteria?) if, for example, the last missile hit on a fictitious frigate was successful or not. Boolean logic from the human perspective.
Let us now recall a sobering lesson from history: the Japanese wargames conducted prior to the Battle of Midway. During those games, a US counterattack resulted in the simulated sinking of a Japanese aircraft carrier. The umpire—a man of great rank and likely little humility—declared the carrier had, in fact, survived. It was resurrected with a wave of the
hand and continued the wargame as if fate could be bullied into submission. We all know what happened in the actual battle of Midway don’t we?
Contrast this with today’s digital systems. They may be imperfect, but they don’t play favorites. Probabilistic outcomes are calculated from documented parameters and statistical models—not wishful thinking or personal bias. The AI doesn’t care if it’s your flagship.
A common lament is that digital games encourage players to focus on manipulating software rather than exploring operational judgment. This is more a matter of poor design than inherent digital flaw. A well-designed digital wargame pushes the player into uncomfortable decisions and unexpected dilemmas, all while relieving them from manual rule enforcement. Good digital wargaming doesn’t eliminate uncertainty—it models it.
And let’s not forget: in manual games, the cognitive burden often lies in remembering rules, adjusting counters, or figuring out how much fuel an aircraft has left. This kind of logistics is almost impossible to do manually and is the bread and butter of digital simulations, which can automate those mechanics so the player can focus on strategic decisions. The friction remains—just more usefully placed.
SWEET SPOT: HYBRID WARGAMING
Then there is the accusation that you have to learn the software and sometimes (well actually most of the time) the learning curve is so steep it's discouraging. This one’s undeniably true. Digital systems do have learning curves. You can’t just show up, grab a pencil, and start. But here’s the sweet spot: hybrid wargaming, where an expert operator from the White Cell participates to take the mechanical burden off the participants.
WARGAMING IS ABOUT SHAKING MINDS
Manual games are intuitive and accessible. No logins, no updates, no IT support. That’s a real strength, especially in educational or rapid-prototype settings. Combine the intuitive nature of manual play with the rigor and repeatability of digital systems. Use human-led tabletop decisions, but plug the outcomes into digital adjudication engines that handle the complexity of detection models, terrain effects, and weapon physics. You get the best of both worlds: insight and rigor, accessibility and depth.
Another accusation often heard is that digital games accelerate play at the expense of participant interaction causing loss of human dialogue. Automated adjudication replaces the debates and discussions where learning happens. Well, that’s what facilitators are for. Digital adjudication doesn’t preclude dialogue—it frees up time for it. When you’re not arguing over who forgot the fuel penalty or which hex had line-of-sight, you can actually discuss what happened and why.
Wargaming isn’t about moving pieces—it’s about shaking minds. The real value lies in the debrief, the self-questioning, the postmortem. Digital speeds the play, but again it’s up to the players to choose their own pace.
#1
The short coming of 'professional' games vs amateur games is that the professionals ignore morale as a factor. Contractors avoid the issue because its not as quantifiable as numbers and equipment stats and they want to avoid the dynamics of dealing with egos in uniform.
#2
...Some wonderful memories of the old days wargaming. The best part of it was that you could correct and or improve things on the fly, unlike digital.
On the other hand, games like COMMAND are now getting to the point where with LUA commands they can be tweaked as needed; which today means not much at all. The Operational Art Of War IV is also quite good, being a digitized version of the classic tabletop game with the added detail of being able to recreate just about any land/air battle from the 1700s through the early 2000s. (It doesn't do naval well at all).
#5
In my Academy days, computer games were just coming out. We spent a lot of time trying to crack Leisure Suit Larry in the Land of the Lounge Lizards, but there was another game that I bought that was very interesting. It was called Shadow President and supposedly was used by the CIA to war game the result of different policy and action alternates. Because I was a big fan of Risk growing up, I really liked Shadow President and spent a lot of time trying to influence Eastern Europe. What I found in this CIA modeled game based on a late 80’s world was that if I messed around and tried to influence Ukraine enough, I always triggered WWIII.
Posted by: Super Hose ||
09/21/2025 9:39 Comments ||
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#6
This mod adds a new self-interaction to Sims to allow them to enlist in a war.
A multi-volume chronology and reference guide set detailing three years of the Mexican Drug War between 2010 and 2012.
Rantburg.com and borderlandbeat.com correspondent and author Chris Covert presents his first non-fiction work detailing
the drug and gang related violence in Mexico.
Chris gives us Mexican press dispatches of drug and gang war violence
over three years, presented in a multi volume set intended to chronicle the death, violence and mayhem which has
dominated Mexico for six years.
Rantburg was assembled from recycled algorithms in the United States of America. No
trees were destroyed in the production of this weblog. We did hurt some, though. Sorry.
