Vance Rallies Conservatives: No More Purity Tests After Kirk Tragedy

Paul Riverbank, 12/22/2025Vice President Vance urges conservative unity after Kirk's death, exposing deep political and media divides.

He didn’t raise his voice, but no one talked over him. “President Trump didn’t piece together the country’s broadest political coalition by asking people to run obstacle courses of loyalty and ideology,” he told a crowd still raw after the loss of Turning Point founder Charlie Kirk. Every seat seemed to give off a collective shiver as Vance continued: “He says ‘Make America Great Again’ because it’s meant for everyone—white or Black, rich or working-class, barely-of-age or gray-haired, the rural and the city, people who light up a room or hardly get noticed.”

For those who’d watched the slow-motion fractures running through the right—Twitter indictments, squabbling over platforms, and endless internal call-outs—the speech was a kind of intervention. Vance wasn’t there to play hall monitor. “I didn’t bring a roster of enemies. There’s no blacklist in my pocket,” he said, drawing a few knowing glances from older activists, who’ve witnessed the movement eat its own too many times. The applause that followed had the sound of people wanting something to believe in again.

But the memory of Charlie Kirk was everywhere—on the screens, in whispered conversations near the food trucks, in the gap left at the center of everything. His recent killing, both senseless and surreal, left anger and confusion that has yet to find a suitable outlet. The authorities had already arrested Tyler Robinson, yet in the political world, there's always the lingering sense of who else bears blame, if only abstractly.

Vance’s restraint, notably, was mirrored by Donald Trump Jr. when he took the mic. “The real battle isn’t here, it’s out there with the radical left,” Trump Jr. said, voice a little ragged from weeks on the road. It’s a familiar refrain, but in this cycle, the “enemy” is ever more a shaping force—outward threats keeping the inner circle together, at least for now.

Not all responded with approval. Beyond the walls of the convention center, progressive critics sharpened their focus elsewhere. Jennifer Welch—the left-wing commentator with an audience that listens—used her platform to slam CBS for inviting Erika Kirk, Charlie’s widow, onto a town hall moderated by Bari Weiss. Welch urged viewers to tune out. “It’s not journalism anymore—they just want a propaganda arm,” she snapped, picking up both traction and detractors.

Welch’s frustration spilled over into the week’s media discourse. She and her followers kept up a drumbeat about real economic pain—inflation choking the paychecks, healthcare sliding further out of reach—and what they saw as networks indulging in conservative grievance. Meanwhile, awkwardness touched other broadcasters too: Both Nexstar and Sinclair yanked “Jimmy Kimmel Live” after the late-night host riffed—too irreverently, for some—on Kirk’s death. The shows later returned, but not without calls and statements from Erika Kirk herself.

Erika, appearing on Fox, waved off the idea of forced apologies as if shooing away a persistent fly. “Send me a note if you want, but don’t posture,” she said calmly. “I don’t need performative grief. If it helps you sleep, fine. If not, let it be.”

The episode laid bare the chasm—not just between left and right or their media bubbles, but within the ranks themselves. What began as the aftermath to a tragedy twisted itself into a litmus test of truth, credibility, and political weaponry, with both camps clamoring to claim the narrative. One could hardly ignore the irony: Even a call for unity became another point of contention.

Still, inside the Turning Point hall, Vance’s appeal resonated. There was almost a yearning in his cadence, warning as much as inviting: Lose sight of the collective, and all that remains are the divisions others are happy to exploit. “Anyone who still wants a richer, safer, prouder America has a place on our side,” he insisted, more somber than defiant.

What’s at stake? A lot more than a hashtag or primetime slot. As 2024 campaigns edge toward peak velocity, these messy, emotional divides will shape the months ahead—sometimes quietly, sometimes in full view. Vance’s words, for now, hang over the movement as both caution and compass: If conservatives can’t keep from turning inward, their biggest battle may be with themselves, not their rivals.

There was a heaviness in the air at AmericaFest this year, the sort that lingers after hard news. The air pulsed with anticipation as Vice President JD Vance took the stage in Phoenix—a city that’s seen more than its share of political rallies, but even the regulars knew there was something different this time. Vance spoke to a hall packed with Turning Point USA regulars, offering a message that cut against the grain of recent conservative squabbles. Unity, not purity.He didn’t raise his voice, but no one talked over him. “President Trump didn’t piece together the country’s broadest political coalition by asking people to run obstacle courses of loyalty and ideology,” he told a crowd still raw after the loss of Turning Point founder Charlie Kirk. Every seat seemed to give off a collective shiver as Vance continued: “He says ‘Make America Great Again’ because it’s meant for everyone—white or Black, rich or working-class, barely-of-age or gray-haired, the rural and the city, people who light up a room or hardly get noticed.”For those who’d watched the slow-motion fractures running through the right—Twitter indictments, squabbling over platforms, and endless internal call-outs—the speech was a kind of intervention. Vance wasn’t there to play hall monitor. “I didn’t bring a roster of enemies. There’s no blacklist in my pocket,” he said, drawing a few knowing glances from older activists, who’ve witnessed the movement eat its own too many times. The applause that followed had the sound of people wanting something to believe in again.But the memory of Charlie Kirk was everywhere—on the screens, in whispered conversations near the food trucks, in the gap left at the center of everything. His recent killing, both senseless and surreal, left anger and confusion that has yet to find a suitable outlet. The authorities had already arrested Tyler Robinson, yet in the political world, there's always the lingering sense of who else bears blame, if only abstractly.Vance’s restraint, notably, was mirrored by Donald Trump Jr. when he took the mic. “The real battle isn’t here, it’s out there with the radical left,” Trump Jr. said, voice a little ragged from weeks on the road. It’s a familiar refrain, but in this cycle, the “enemy” is ever more a shaping force—outward threats keeping the inner circle together, at least for now.Not all responded with approval. Beyond the walls of the convention center, progressive critics sharpened their focus elsewhere. Jennifer Welch—the left-wing commentator with an audience that listens—used her platform to slam CBS for inviting Erika Kirk, Charlie’s widow, onto a town hall moderated by Bari Weiss. Welch urged viewers to tune out. “It’s not journalism anymore—they just want a propaganda arm,” she snapped, picking up both traction and detractors.Welch’s frustration spilled over into the week’s media discourse. She and her followers kept up a drumbeat about real economic pain—inflation choking the paychecks, healthcare sliding further out of reach—and what they saw as networks indulging in conservative grievance. Meanwhile, awkwardness touched other broadcasters too: Both Nexstar and Sinclair yanked “Jimmy Kimmel Live” after the late-night host riffed—too irreverently, for some—on Kirk’s death. The shows later returned, but not without calls and statements from Erika Kirk herself.Erika, appearing on Fox, waved off the idea of forced apologies as if shooing away a persistent fly. “Send me a note if you want, but don’t posture,” she said calmly. “I don’t need performative grief. If it helps you sleep, fine. If not, let it be.”The episode laid bare the chasm—not just between left and right or their media bubbles, but within the ranks themselves. What began as the aftermath to a tragedy twisted itself into a litmus test of truth, credibility, and political weaponry, with both camps clamoring to claim the narrative. One could hardly ignore the irony: Even a call for unity became another point of contention.Still, inside the Turning Point hall, Vance’s appeal resonated. There was almost a yearning in his cadence, warning as much as inviting: Lose sight of the collective, and all that remains are the divisions others are happy to exploit. “Anyone who still wants a richer, safer, prouder America has a place on our side,” he insisted, more somber than defiant.What’s at stake? A lot more than a hashtag or primetime slot. As 2024 campaigns edge toward peak velocity, these messy, emotional divides will shape the months ahead—sometimes quietly, sometimes in full view. Vance’s words, for now, hang over the movement as both caution and compass: If conservatives can’t keep from turning inward, their biggest battle may be with themselves, not their rivals.