In the wake of two shocking and senseless deaths in September 2025; the brutal stabbing of 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska on August 22 and the assassination of 31-year-old conservative activist Charlie Kirk on September 10. America finds itself grappling with a surge of violence, politicization, and social media frenzy. These events, while isolated in their specifics, evoke chilling parallels to the 2024 film “Civil War”, directed by Alex Garland. The movie paints a harrowing portrait of a fractured United States torn apart by internal conflict, where journalists navigate a landscape of indiscriminate bloodshed and societal breakdown. As graphic videos of Zarutska’s and Kirk’s final moments flood platforms like X and Instagram, amassing millions of views, the question arises: Are these tragedies harbingers of a deeper national unraveling? And in a nation where faith and ideology often clash, should Americans heed the warning to avoid turning on one another “like a pack of hyenas,”? This Article explores the similarities, differences, and broader implications, urging caution in an era of escalating tensions.
First, let’s ground the comparison in the facts of these recent tragedies, both of which have been amplified by social media’s relentless dissemination of unfiltered footage.
Iryna Zarutska’s story is one of heartbreaking irony. Fleeing Ukraine’s war with Russia in 2022 alongside her family, the 23-year-old artist and recent Synergy College graduate sought the American Dream in Charlotte, North Carolina. Fluent in English and working at a local pizzeria, she embodied resilience and hope. On August 22, 2025, while riding the light rail home, scrolling on her phone around 10 p.m., she was randomly stabbed in the throat by DeCarlos Brown, a suspect with 14 prior arrests who had been released despite his history. Surveillance video captured the unprovoked attack in graphic detail: Brown, seated behind her, suddenly rising to slit her throat before she collapsed and bled out. The footage, released shortly after, went viral, sparking debates on urban crime in Democratic-led cities, immigration policies, and racial biases, especially given Brown’s background and Zarutska’s status as a white immigrant. Conservative voices, including Charlie Kirk himself, politicized her death, with Kirk posting on X: “If we want things to change, it’s 100% necessary to politicize the senseless murder of Iryna Zarutska because it was politics that allowed a savage monster with 14 priors to be free on the streets to kill her.” Her obituary highlighted her embrace of American life, but her murder underscored the fragility of that refuge.
Just weeks later, on September 10, Charlie Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA, a prominent conservative speaker known for his fiery defenses of faith, traditional values, and criticism of progressive policies, was assassinated during a speaking event at Utah Valley University. The 31-year-old husband and father of two was mid-debate on gun violence when a single gunshot struck his neck, captured on livestream and eyewitness videos that showed him clutching his throat before collapsing amid screams and chaos. The shooter remained at large and now supposedly has been arrested, described by President Trump as a “total animal,” with speculation pointing to political motives amid Kirk’s high-profile role in rallying young conservatives for the 2026 midterms. In a tragic twist, Kirk’s final X post hours earlier was a tribute to Zarutska, sharing her photo and lamenting, “America will never be the same.” His last 24 hours included discussions of Christ’s resurrection and advocacy for victims like Zarutska, blending faith with calls for justice. Social media erupted, with videos of his death garnering over 20 million views on Instagram alone, fueling conspiracy theories (e.g., claims the blood was faked) and partisan divides.
These incidents, occurring against the backdrop of ongoing national debates on crime, immigration, and political extremism, have desensitized viewers to violence, turning personal tragedies into viral spectacles. As one X user noted amid the outrage, Kirk was the 18,533rd American shot in 2025, yet his fame amplified the coverage, while Zarutska’s story briefly trended before fading. Both deaths highlight a society where random acts of brutality intersect with ideological battles, much like the film’s dystopian lens.
Released in April 2024, “Civil War” a Nation at war with Itself, is a stark, apolitical thriller that avoids specifying the war’s causes, focusing instead on its human toll. In a near-future America, a third-term authoritarian president (satirically played by Nick Offerman) faces secessionist forces: the “Western Forces” alliance of Texas and California, and the “Florida Alliance.” The plot centers on a group of journalists; veteran war photographer Lee (Kirsten Dunst), reporter Joel (Wagner Moura), rookie Jessie (Cailee Spaeny), and mentor Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson) racing from a besieged New York City to Washington, D.C., to interview the president before rebels storm the White House.
The film unfolds as a road trip through hell: sniper ambushes at a ruined Christmas fair, refugee camps teeming with displaced families, gas station shootouts with looters, and a chilling execution by soldiers who quip, “You’re killing the wrong people,” underscoring the war’s senselessness. Journalists, embedded with troops, capture the chaos without taking sides, emphasizing the media’s role in documenting, but not resolving division. The movie critiques desensitization to violence, with characters numbly photographing atrocities, and ends in a brutal assault on the capital, leaving viewers to ponder America’s vulnerability to self-destruction. Critically acclaimed for its tension and visuals, it grossed well but sparked debate for its ambiguity: Is it a warning about polarization, or just spectacle?
Garland’s vision isn’t about left vs. right but the erosion of civility, where ordinary people become collateral in ideological wars. As one reviewer noted, it’s “an all-too-real look at our possible future.”
The connections between Zarutska’s and Kirk’s deaths and “Civil War” are eerily resonant, painting a picture of a nation on the brink.
1. “Indiscriminate and Graphic Violence”: In the film, death strikes randomly, snipers target without allegiance, soldiers execute civilians amid the rubble. Similarly, Zarutska’s stabbing was unprovoked, a “savage monster” preying on an innocent commuter in a revitalized urban area. Kirk’s assassination, during a public debate on violence, mirrors the movie’s sniper battles, where public spaces become killing grounds. Both real events produced snuff-like videos: Zarutska’s collapse filmed by bystanders, Kirk’s shooting livestreamed, evoking the film’s journalists who “unsee” the horrors they capture. As Utah Governor Spencer Cox called social media “a cancer” for spreading Kirk’s video, it highlights how technology turns tragedy into entertainment, much like the movie’s critique of war porn.
2. “Politicization and Ideological Division”: “Civil War” thrives on unspecified factions turning inward, with secessionists fighting a “despotic” government. Zarutska’s death became a flashpoint for conservative critiques of “Democratic-run cities” and lax crime policies, with the Trump administration vowing crackdowns.
Kirk, a vocal Christian conservative, amplified this, tying her murder to “politics” in his final post, ironically, before his own death was spun as leftist extremism or even a hoax. On X, users debated racism, media bias, and faith, with some celebrating Kirk’s death while others mourned Zarutska as a “racist hate crime.” This mirrors the film’s “Western Forces,” where unlikely alliances (e.g., Texas-California) form amid chaos, warning how politicizing personal losses deepens rifts.
3. “The Role of Faith and Media as Witnesses”: Kirk’s last hours invoked Christian themes, quoting Corinthians on resurrection; positioning him as a faith-driven voice against moral decay. Zarutska, though not explicitly tied to faith in reports, represents innocent vulnerability in a “captive West.” In “Civil War”, journalists act as impartial chroniclers, but the film questions if documentation fuels division. Today, social media users “zoom in 1000X” on videos to deny reality, much like the movie’s numb observers. Vigils for revival amid grief, calls to “say their names” as symbols of societal failure.
These parallels suggest a creeping dystopia: Violence isn’t just random; it’s amplified by echo chambers, turning neighbors into adversaries.
Non the less, while evocative, the comparison isn’t perfect. “Civil War” depicts full-scale war with armies and secessions, not isolated crimes like Zarutska’s random attack or Kirk’s targeted killing. The film avoids politics entirely, forcing viewers to project their fears; in reality, these events are overtly partisan. Zarutska’s tied to crime and immigration debates, Kirk’s to conservative activism. Moreover, the movie’s journalists seek truth amid apocalypse; here, social media often distorts it, with leftists mocking Kirk and conservatives ignoring systemic gun violence stats (e.g., 18,532 shootings before his). Faith, central to Kirk’s legacy, adds a layer absent in the secular film, yet it’s weaponized, as in X posts blending prayer with political rage.
To fully understand the DNA of division in these modern tragedies and “Civil War”’s warnings, one must confront America’s unhealed participatory inflicted trauma from its origins. The nation’s founding was marred by the systematic displacement, enslavement, and slaughter of Native Americans, a cycle of violence that echoed and adapted doctrines from European powers, particularly the Roman Catholic Church’s papal bulls. Issued in 1452 by Pope Nicholas V, the bull “Dum Diversas” authorized Portugal to conquer, enslave, and seize lands from non-Christians, laying the groundwork for the Doctrine of Discovery; a legal and moral framework that justified European colonization by deeming indigenous peoples as subhuman or “savages” unfit for sovereignty. This doctrine, extended through subsequent bulls like “Romanus Pontifex” (1455) and “Inter Caetera” (1493), directly influenced the colonization of the Americas, enabling the genocide of millions of Native peoples through wars, forced removals like the Trail of Tears, and cultural erasure.
This legacy of faith-sanctioned violence where Christianity was wielded as a tool for domination remains unaddressed, perpetuating deep-seated racism and trauma in Native communities today. Organizations like the Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition highlight how such historical atrocities connect to ongoing issues of genocide and cultural loss, with the Vatican’s 2023 repudiation of the Doctrine of Discovery seen as a step toward healing, though insufficient without broader reckoning. In the context of Zarutska and Kirk’s deaths, this unhealed wound underscores how America’s propensity for internal conflict may stem from these roots: a nation built on “othering” through faith and ideology, now manifesting in politicized violence and division. Just as “Civil War” depicts a society devouring itself, ignoring this foundational trauma risks repeating history’s cycles.
These events and “Civil War” serve as a stark reminder: Division, unchecked, breeds chaos. The film’s rebels storm the capital not over policy, but survival; Zarutska and Kirk’s deaths show how ideology can justify savagery, with faith sometimes twisted into tribalism. Kirk’s Christian convictions inspired millions, but his politicization of Zarutska’s murder risked escalating tensions echoing hyena-like packs circling prey under pretexts of righteousness. As one Catholic commentary noted, these tragedies demand “conversations we need to have” on desensitization, mental health, and violence in media.
Americans should be careful: In a polarized 2025, with 400+ shootings post-Kirk, random violence could ignite broader conflict if faith and politics become battle cries rather than bridges. The film ends ambiguously, but reality offers choice to heal divides through dialogue, not spectacle. As 2 Chronicles 7:14 urges, humble prayer could mend the land before fiction becomes prophecy. These losses grieve us, but they also call us to unity, lest we devour one another.
Read more about the author: Philip Kakungulu
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