The shocking assassination of Charlie Kirk at Utah Valley University puts an exclamation point on the degraded state of reasoned debate in America.

Like many in the last month or so, I’ve found myself doing a deep dive into Kirk’s YouTube channel, watching debate after debate. You learn something from watching them in full: Kirk was willing to talk to anybody, and he always brought liberals to the front of the line.

We must teach our students to be virtuous, both individually and politically.

He was pugnacious at times, but always civil. His interlocutors sometimes resorted to ad hominem attacks, and their arguments often collapsed under a steady stream of his questions and retorts. Time after time, these students lost the debate with Kirk because they simply didn’t know enough.

‘Action civics’

What causes a person to stake out a position with such confidence before mastering the evidence to support it? For many of the students who challenged Kirk, the answer is “action civics.” This pedagogical theory holds that the highest form of civic participation is protest rather than discussion. Its result is thoughtless grandstanding or worse. The antidote to this state of affairs is classical education rightly understood.

When it comes to civics, knowledge is necessary but not sufficient. Civic life requires more than a grasp of American history and government, as important as those things are. It requires us to be people formed by practice in the habit of reasoned deliberation — people who know how to disagree and be disagreed with and who are willing to change their opinions when they learn something.

Political speech — reasoned discussion about the good within a regime — allows us to improve our opinions by sharing them with others and refining them through conversation and disagreement. Civic education divorced from these practical virtues produces either performative activism or feckless intellectualizing.

These virtues can be cultivated within the classroom through classical education. Reading and discussing works from Aristotle to the Federalist allows students to wrestle with enduring questions about justice, rights, and the good life. They learn not only to discern what is right but also to pursue it amid the complexities of a changing world.

Yet the real formation comes in seminars and Socratic discussions, which are laboratories of civic practice.

After years outside of the classroom, this semester I began teaching a course on moral and political philosophy to 11th graders. These students are young, but after years in a classical school, they have some real learning under their belts. The task this year is to develop within them the habits necessary for a real seminar conversation, with Socratic discussion three days a week and a full-blown seminar on the other two.

Running a seminar

In a well-run seminar, teachers merely provide a question about a great work of literature, history, or philosophy, intervening to guide the discussion only rarely. As in life, no authority swoops in to give the right answer and make decisions for everyone else. It’s the students who lead and who learn to find their way together.

A properly run seminar allows students to disagree and be disagreed with. They are forced to humble themselves before an author and a text, to scrutinize their own opinions, and to discard error in favor of knowledge.

But it isn’t a lawless environment. Students in a well-run seminar know that they are to speak about the text and only the text. Every comment must respond to the previous speaker. Non sequiturs are not allowed, and the students don’t interrupt each other (we are still working on that last one).

If we want a citizenry capable of sustaining liberty, we cannot settle for activist training without understanding, nor abstract lectures without practice.

When they do speak, they have to ground their statements in an argument drawn from the text. If they don’t have an interpretation of the text to offer, they can ask a thoughtful question, which is often just as beneficial to the conversation as a well-reasoned argument.

Disagreement in the seminar room is an opportunity to learn that disputing someone’s argument doesn’t mean impugning their character. Most teenagers are terrified to disagree with someone their own age and even more terrified to be disagreed with. But after a few weeks, they develop thicker skin. They learn to think more about the substance of their argument and less about their social standing.

RELATED: How Charlie Kirk’s life shows the power of self-education

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When the arbiter of the debate is the text itself, everyone knows that success means advancing the clearest and most correct reading. And when the text is rich and deep, it takes time, conversation, and disagreement to interpret it well.

Disagreement is an opportunity for clarification. In a well-developed seminar, it’s welcomed. What matters is not superficial civility, but the willingness to examine and revise our opinions in light of reason and fact, to argue from truth rather than feeling, and to labor toward a common understanding.

Dare to disagree

In a way, these classroom discussions on Plato and Virgil, Swift and Shakespeare, are a crash course in practical civics. Not protest, not theory, but character formation through dialogue, study, and experience — all preparing students not only to understand their country but to participate in it responsibly. In a way, classical education creates more people like Charlie Kirk.

If we want a citizenry capable of sustaining liberty, we cannot settle for activist training without understanding, nor abstract lectures without practice. We must teach our students to be virtuous, both individually and politically. Only then will they be capable of self-government — not as activists or spectators, but as citizens.

Editor’s note: This article was published originally at the American Mind.