I’m hesitant to write about the horrific killing of conservative influencer Charlie Kirk. I don’t want to pretend that I understand or know more about the crime than I do. I am often quiet as criminal investigations continue. I believe that the criminal justice system has the potential for learning about crime. I know that behind the scenes, away from the media attention, investigators are conducting careful work. At the same time, prosecutors prepare legal strategies to bring the defendant, who is in custody, to trial. There is more evidence and more information than is being reported. I hope that the evidence will come to light in a careful judicial process. Our justice system is carefully designed to seek the truth. Like other human systems, it is not perfect. Investigators, prosecutors, defense lawyers, judges, and juries make mistakes. The system of appeals is in place as a potential remedy to those mistakes, but it remains a human system.

I have been similarly reluctant to write about the case of Vance Boelter, who has been charged with stalking and murdering Minnesota House of Representatives Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband and with stalking and shooting Minnesota State Senator John Hoffman and his wife. According to the charges filed in the case, the defendant had a list of possible targets and went to the homes of other public officials, intending to make violent attacks. The case will continue to unfold deliberately. I expect that there is more that can be learned from the legal process that follows horrible acts of political violence.

Furthermore, the families of the victims of political violence deserve respect and peace. I don’t want to write words that might exacerbate their suffering. They already have to deal with so much attention from invasive media. Their journey of grief is not helped by others making assumptions about what they feel.

I am, however, consuming some of the media reports about these murders. I am interested in learning more. I am asking myself and others what can be done to prevent future acts of violence. As such, I am interested in an analogy used by Utah Governor Spencer Cox during the press conference at which it was announced that a suspect is in custody in the Charlie Kirk case yesterday. Cox, a Republican, has worked for collaboration with Democrats and tried to play down the polarization that marks current US politics. In the past, he has worked with Democratic governors on issues such as homelessness, housing, and teen social media use. In his address yesterday, he called upon all to “build a culture that is very different than what we are suffering through right now.” Speaking to young Americans, he said, “You are inheriting a country where politics feels like rage. It feels like rage is the only option. But through those words, we have a reminder that we can choose a different path. Your generation has an opportunity.”

The analogy that Governor Cox made was with cancer. “Social media is a cancer on our society right now,” he said. At first, his analogy made me uncomfortable. I’m sure that there will be plenty of people looking for simple answers who will rush to blame social media for the violence. Indeed, there is a lot of violent language and imagery on social media. However, serious problems rarely have a single cause, and laying blame can divert attention from the kind of careful, critical thinking that is required to come up with complex answers to complex problems. Another politician saying “Social media is bad” doesn’t provide a solution.

Upon reflection, however, I think the analogy has some value. Cancer is not a single disease with a single treatment. It is a term applied to a wide range of conditions that exist in human bodies. Like a lot of others, I live with cancer. I want to be careful with my words here. I am not dying from cancer. Some cells in my body are not reproducing in a typical fashion. Biopsies have come back reporting the presence of cancer. In the case of the skin cancers that have been discovered, a simple surgical remedy is effective. Having the cancerous cells removed, however, is not the end of the story. I need to be regularly examined by a dermatologist, and I receive treatment for pre-cancers a couple of times each year. I also have prostate cancer. The cells from that biopsy have been genetically tested to determine the aggressiveness of the cancer I have, and for now, it is being treated by active surveillance. With regular testing and treatment, this particular cancer is one with which I can live. Not all cancers are death sentences.

The solution to the violence of social media does not lie in a complete ban. Like cancer, it is a reality of our lives. We need to learn to live with it. Living with it will require that we learn about its various forms and uses.

Despite the horror of the violence we have witnessed, despite our awareness of the role of social media in promoting division and violence, I am continuing to use social media. I have Facebook and Instagram accounts. I post regularly to Substack and promote my account on other media platforms. I am being careful to avoid violent language. I don’t use my accounts to attack. I strive to provide meaningful reflection and foster engagement and dialogue. But I am not an expert. I am likely to make mistakes.

For now, I am mulling the analogy of cancer and social media. Both are capable of deadly results. Both are realities in my life and will remain realities for as long as I live. The questionnaire for my recent flu shot, like most other medical forms, asked me if I had been diagnosed with cancer. I now have to check that box each time I fill out similar paperwork. My insurance company is aware of the diagnosis. It has become an integral part of my identity now. My smartphone is currently being charged, and I’ll be checking it and scrolling through social media several times today. I will continue to live with it. I must never forget how dangerous it can be and how carefully I need to make my choices whenever I use it.