Freedom Needs Foresight: Why Not All Speech Deserves a Monument

The wiser choice isn’t silence or censorship — it’s foresight.

By LONNIE KING

My interest was piqued by a headline — one that, at one time, would have seemed too dramatic to be true.

But not these days. And certainly not from an elected official in a red state who seems to be more concerned with being involved in hiring a college football coach than looking out for the best interests of his constituents.

Louisiana Governor Jeff Landry (who wants to hire Brian Kelly’s replacement at LSU) has proposed that LSU should erect a statue of Charlie Kirk, the late conservative commentator, calling him a champion of free speech.

LSU basketball star Flau’jae Johnson publicly objected, suggesting that monuments should stand for unity, not division.

There are social media posts out there claiming that Johnson disrupted an LSU board meeting to make her point. That part seems exaggerated (as many Facebook posits that are created by bots are prone to be), BUT… her objection landed exactly where it needed to by asking an important question: What kind of speech are we choosing to celebrate?

Charlie Kirk had the right to speak. He had the right to believe what he believed — and he absolutely should not have been killed for that.

But honoring his legacy with a statue isn’t about free speech; it’s about reverence. And that’s where things get complicated.

⚖️ Rights and Reverence Aren’t the Same Thing

The First Amendment guarantees every American the right to express themselves. But it doesn’t guarantee the right to be honored for doing it.

And, a statue isn’t a constitutional defense; it’s a cultural decision.

When we build one, we’re not saying, “This person had the right to speak.” We’re saying, “This person’s voice deserves to echo.”

Before we cast anyone in bronze, we have to ask — what exactly are we preserving?

🗣️ What Did Charlie Kirk Actually Say?

Context matters. Because when people rush to immortalize someone as a “free speech hero,” it’s worth remembering what that speech included.

Here are a few examples from Kirk’s public record:

• On racial diversity in aviation: “If I see a Black pilot, I’m gonna be like, ‘boy, I hope he’s qualified.’” (Newsweek)
• On race and violence: he referred to “prowling Blacks who go around for fun to target white people,” repeating a discredited claim rooted in racial fear. (Irish Times)
• On women: at a Turning Point USA women’s conference, he told attendees that pursuing a career instead of prioritizing marriage and children was “a distraction from their true purpose.” (Yahoo News)
• On the Civil Rights Act of 1964: he called it “a huge mistake.” (Word In Black)

You can disagree with him, debate him, or defend him — that’s the beauty of free speech. But pretending that these words don’t wound or divide is dishonest.

And creating monuments that ensconce those words as valuable to our society is offensive.

🕊️ Honoring Free Speech While Rejecting Its Abuse

Here’s the heart of it:

Yes — we protect the right to speak, even when we disagree. No — we are not obligated to celebrate every speaker or immortalize their words in stone.

When speech reinforces supremacy or exclusion, building a monument isn’t defending freedom — it’s endorsing the message.

We can honor the principle of free speech without sanctifying those who used it to belittle others. That’s not censorship. That’s discernment.

🏛️ A Longer History of Selective “Freedom”

For most of American history, “free speech” has been loudest — and safest — for white men.

When enslaved people, women or LGBTQ+ voices spoke up, their “free speech” often came with a cost: loss of jobs, safety, freedom, even life.

Yet, when someone like Kirk faced pushback for saying inflammatory things, his defenders cried persecution.

Freedom of speech has always been easier to claim when the system already favors your voice. Monuments tend to follow that same pattern.

✝️ From a Faith Perspective

From a faith standpoint, freedom of speech reflects the divine gift of agency — but it’s not a blank check.

Words have power. As the book of James reminds us, “the tongue sets the whole course of one’s life.”

In that light, the question becomes spiritual as much as civic:

If my words tear others down, should my society lift me up?

We can defend someone’s right to speak and still grieve the harm their words caused. Mercy and memory don’t always belong in the same monument.

🪓 The Practical Side: Monuments That Don’t Age Well

There’s also a practical question here — one that doesn’t get the same emotional headlines but probably should.

Why build a statue today that we’ll have to remove tomorrow?

If history has taught us anything, it’s that public memory shifts faster than bronze weathers.

The South is dotted with monuments erected in the name of “heritage” that now sit in warehouses or landfills because, in hindsight, they celebrated oppression instead of progress.

We can debate morality, freedom, and legacy all day long — but there’s a bottom-line reality too. Tearing down a statue costs more than never building it.

Why repeat the same cycle? Why spend public money on honoring someone whose words already divide, knowing that a decade from now, that monument could become another symbol of shame or regret?

Maybe the wiser choice isn’t commemoration or censorship — it’s foresight.

🪞The Real Question: What Do Our Statues Say About Us?

Every statue tells a story — not just about who it depicts, but about who we are when we build it.

Do we build monuments to unity, or to power?

To courage, or to controversy?

To free speech as a right, or to decency as a virtue?

Charlie Kirk’s death was tragic. His right to speak should always have been protected. But that doesn’t mean his message deserves a pedestal.

Freedom without conscience isn’t noble. It’s just noise.

Grace and grit to you! —LK