What if I told you that a college dropout did more for higher education than many college professors?
Charlie Kirk, the founder of Turning Point USA (TPUSA), never earned a formal degree; yet, his influence on American campuses has reshaped discussions around free speech and viewpoint diversity. Kirk dropped out of college, opting instead to launch TPUSA at the age of 18. Without the academic credentials, he built an organization that mobilized thousands of students, hosted campus debates, and challenged the status quo on campuses across the nation.
Colleges and universities should strive to be bastions of free speech, academic freedom, and the rigorous contestation of ideas. From the ancient academies to Enlightenment-era institutions, knowledge advanced through open inquiry and constructive disagreement. American campuses, too, should nurture debates that help shape the nation’s political discourse. Yet today, many faculty members at these very institutions fall short of embodying those principles. By contrast, Kirk, a college dropout, came to personify them.
[RELATED: Charlie Kirk Fought for an Education That Restores American Faith and Values]
Kirk’s path was unconventional.
Born on October 14, 1993, and having grown up in the Chicago suburb of Prospect Heights, he briefly attended Harper College in Illinois. But in 2012, at the age of 18, he co-founded TPUSA with Bill Montgomery, a retired businessman and Tea Party activist who mentored him and provided significant initial support. The organization also secured multimillion-dollar funding from conservative investor Foster Friess, which enabled the organization to expand into more than 900 college chapters and 1,200 high school chapters nationwide.
Through events, speaker tours, and leadership training, TPUSA established itself as a fixture in student politics. Kirk himself spoke on hundreds of campuses, often in the face of protests, but consistently insisted on dialogue. His method emphasized engagement across differences, modeling a form of discourse that many faculty no longer practice. For a generation of young conservatives, Kirk became both an organizer and an educator, drawing tens of thousands to rallies where politics and pedagogy converged.
The contrast with academia is telling.
Advanced degrees, impressive as they may be, do not guarantee fidelity to the ideal of open inquiry. Kirk demonstrated that conviction and action can sometimes carry greater weight than credentials. By challenging students to interrogate prevailing orthodoxies, he exposed how formal qualifications may insulate academics from criticism rather than inspire genuine debate. Kirk often sought to expose students to ideas rarely presented on campuses. At one event, for example, he told an economics student that he was not really receiving a serious economics education because his courses excluded intellectuals such as Thomas Sowell. That was part of his broader argument that college is a “scam,” a message that has resonated with many young people who have found that their degrees did not deliver the job opportunities they were promised.
Moreover, today’s surveys reveal a significant decline in student tolerance for controversial speakers, particularly for speakers with conservative views. Figures like Kirk routinely encountered disinvitations, disruptions, and prohibitive security concerns. At DePaul University in 2018, for instance, administrators blocked his scheduled appearance altogether. Through Kirk’s work, it became clear that blocking his appearances was not a one-off incident but rather emblematic of a broader pattern—one that was sustained and often reinforced by college and university faculty.
The TPUSA’s “Professor Watchlist,” for example, while polarizing, spotlighted cases of instructors accused of promoting radical ideologies while marginalizing dissent. Some professors themselves acknowledged that the list revealed underlying biases in higher education. Secure in tenure, many prioritize ideological conformity over intellectual exchange. Kirk, lacking such institutional protections, instead built his reputation on contestation. He thrived on disagreement and, in doing so, embodied a principle that higher education once claimed as its own.
I met Charlie only a few times, but like many others, I considered him a friend. We disagreed on some issues and agreed on many. Our arguments were always conducted civilly. That was his brand: never backing down from respectful discourse.
[RELATED: Liberty University Students Vow to Carry on Charlie Kirk’s Mission After Assassination]
Sadly, many professors do not share that attitude. Some of my colleagues even advised me against writing this article, warning that, as a tenure-track associate professor, I could jeopardize my career. They worry about backlash from administrators or peers who see Kirk’s activism as divisive. But here’s the truth: whether you’re an assistant professor chasing tenure, an associate aiming for full, a full professor seeking distinction, or a distinguished professor eyeing retirement, there is always something at stake. Kirk showed us that the “right” time to be brave never comes—so it might as well be now.
This brings me to a troubling irony. Many in higher education today believe that because they hold leftist ideologies, they are on the right side of history, so much so that they limit free speech, academic freedom, open inquiry, constructive disagreement, and viewpoint diversity. In my 2024 article, “Why ‘the right side of history’ is often a fraught concept,” I examined how this phrase often justifies moral superiority without proper scrutiny. I referenced a failed assassination attempt on President Trump, questioning how lauding violence or encouraging harm aligns with righteousness. History shows that those claiming the right side often end up on the wrong one, like supporters of eugenics or slavery.
Academics frequently invoke this narrative to silence opposition. Protests against conservative speakers escalate to disruptions, with little pushback from faculty. The American Association of University Professors has documented political attacks on higher education, including targeted harassment of university professors. Yet, the suppression often targets conservatives. Polling reveals that few Americans believe conservatives can speak freely on campuses, with perceptions of liberal bias dominating; just nine percent said conservatives can speak their minds freely.
Tragically, Kirk’s death on September 10, 2025, underscored this divide. Shot during an event at Utah Valley University, his killing fed fears for higher education’s future. Reactions were polarized. While many mourned, some celebrated. On platforms like X, BlueSky, and Reddit, threads emerged justifying or downplaying the violence, with users arguing that Kirk’s views warranted such a fate.
[RELATED: Leftists Turn to Whataboutism Instead of Condemning Kirk’s Killing]
Such celebrations reveal how far campuses have strayed. Believing one is on the right side justifies dehumanizing opponents. As I wrote in my article, mental gymnastics to rationalize harm mirror historical indoctrination. Faculty who remain silent or endorse such views betray the principles of academia. Kirk, in life, fought against this. His events promoted debates, fostering engagement over exclusion.
Kirk’s legacy endures through the ongoing work of TPUSA. But in the wake of his death, discussions about speaker safety and political division have intensified. Students debate the balance between security and open forums. And thus, Kirk’s assassination forces a reckoning over college free speech.
Higher education must reclaim its roots. Professors should emulate Kirk’s example: engage in disagreements civilly and prioritize inquiry over ideology. True advancement comes from doubt and openness, not certainty.
Charlie did not lead by credentials; he led by example. His dropout status did not hinder him; it liberated him. In remembering him, let us revive the campus as a place of robust debate. Only then can higher education fulfill its mission.
Image: “Charlie Kirk” by Gage Skidmore on Flickr
