Reframing Violence: A Call to Therapists

In the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s assassination, a divide in therapy is noticable now more than ever - those who take a blanket “anti-violence” stance, and then those of us who see things a little differently. 

As therapists, “systemic” brings a clear approach to mind, mapping out family systems, relationships and patterns of interaction. Here we will to zoom out even further, to talk about systemic harm on a societal level: the structures that produce hierarchies of oppression that our clients (and we) live with every day.

Charlie Kirk’s views span from anti-abortion, to anti-immigration, he regularly espoused anti-trans and anti-lgbtq+ rhetoric, was vehemently pro-gun and anti-feminist. Just 5 months ago, Kirk claimed that American Sign Language interpreters presence made a farce of political briefings. As we all know, in 2025 these views are no longer fringe, but the mainstream with far-right politicians, influencers and movements actively shaping laws, policies and public discourse. This of course isn’t just happening in the US but across the West, the UK is no different.

The current state of affairs is terrifying for many, particularly those targeted by these ideologies - women, queer and trans folks, disabled people, migrant and racialised people.

Most therapists are trained within a liberal framework that treats “non-violence” as a moral absolute. Our ethical frameworks from accrediting bodies universally emphasise non-maleficence and beneficence. These guidelines are individually focused on client welfare, individual harm and individual responsibility.

But where is the guidance on how to manage the harm caused by systems of oppression?

Within the current frameworks, many therapists hold a depoliticised, reflexive stance where any act of violence is seen as equally harmful, irrespective of its target, consequence or purpose. This stance flattens harm. It ignores the power dynamics that make some violence a tool of oppression and other violence a tool of resistance. It erases the history of revolutionary uprising and struggles for liberation in which oppressed people have fought, sometimes with force, for freedom, for our rights, against regimes trying to annihilate them.

As practitioners responsible for the wellbeing and safety of our clients, we must recognise the shift to the far-right and not inadvertently protect it. Desmond Tutu reminded us, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”

Violence isn’t just direct, physical harm (war, murder, assault). Violence is also built into our social, political and economic systems where structures of power systematically disadvantage certain groups of people and prevent them from meeting their basic needs. People starving and living in poverty, trans healthcare bans, disability benefit cuts, racist policing and incarceration, immigration policies leaving people to drown at sea. This kind of violence is quiet, normalised and persistent. It is systemic and provides the backdrop to which all our therapeutic work happens.

The psychologist Frantz Fanon argued that revolutionary violence can be a necessary way to reclaim the dignity and humanity stripped from people in a colonialist society. Violence in this context is not cruelty, it is liberation - a way to break free from psychological and material oppression. 

Civil rights activist Audre Lorde saw that anger is not a destructive force but a vital tool for survival, empowerment and social change. She emphasised that, “anger used, does not destroy. Hatred does.” She believed that channeling anger into meaningful action could clarify a people’s position, it could help identify allies and enemies and ultimately serve as a powerful route to transformation.

Angela Davis extends this critique to the idea of nonviolence itself. In a 1972 interview, she noted that those who insist on nonviolence often do so from positions untouched by oppression. To question the use of force without acknowledging the systemic violence inflicted on Black people and other marginalised groups erases the reality of their lived experience. Davis observes that the violence of oppressive systems is always present, even when those less affected claim to be “nonviolent.”

As therapists it is our duty to notice our own responses to what our clients bring and carefully examine what judgements our emotions are leading us to make. An intersectional approach can help each of us question - how does our own social position (our race, class, gender, sexuality etc) shape our reaction when clients talk about resistance and violence?

Where does our fear of violence come from? Fearing that we may lose control? Fear of punishment? Fear of stepping outside liberal respectability?

Can we distinguish between indiscriminate violence and violent resistance?

In truly reflecting where our discomfort with anger, violence and resistance is coming from, we can create safer spaces for clients to explore what meaningful action looks like.  In naming systems of harm, rather than focusing solely on individual pathology, our work can be transformative - leading people to connect with communities that understand and support each other and look for ways to pushback against harmful systems of oppression. 

As our society moves further to the right, therapists have to decide if we are going to be part of maintaining the status quo, or if we are part of the broader struggle for liberation. 

Though we do not know yet who killed Kirk or their motivations, we do know why some people are celebrating his death. A strong figure on the far-right, an ally of Trump, his rhetoric and policies were harmful. To celebrate this death is not the same as celebrating arbitrary murder. It is a recognition, however uncomfortable, that a powerful actor who perpetuated harm is no longer able to do so. Celebrating this is not bloodlust, it is a release from those whose survival he threatened.

It is likely this will deepen tensions, invite state crackdowns and give more power to reactionary forces, such as those fuelled by Kirk himself and who are eager to frame all dissent as “terrorism”. Of course these things are anxiety provoking. Kirk’s legacy will live on in the brutalisation of minoritised groups: migrants, racialised populations, LGBTQ+ people, women, disabled people, and the whole of the working class in all its diversity and complexity. We would do well to note that and condemn not just the direct interpersonal consequences but the attitudes, figures and structures that fuel those.

Our task as therapists is to hold this complexity: to witness our clients’ relief or rage without shaming them and to hold space for their fear of what might come next. Liberation work is emotionally charged, full of contradictory feelings - hope, grief, anger, celebration, dread. To pretend otherwise is to demand that clients make themselves palatable to our comfort, rather than supporting them in navigating the real dangers of living under systems of oppression.