When something tragic, violent, or shocking happens, we almost instinctively demand an explanation. We look for the motive. We want to know why someone did what they did. Was it political? Ideological? Personal? Was it revenge, hatred, desperation, or some darker drive? Motives, in our minds, make things fit into a story, a narrative we can process. They give us the comfort of context.
But what happens when there is no motive? What if sometimes people just do things—without ideology, without reasoning, without a coherent purpose? That’s where I want to push back against the perspective I saw recently in a video from Brittany Simon, who was analyzing the case of Tyler Robinson, the alleged killer of Charlie Kirk.
Brittany Simon’s take was that Robinson didn’t really belong to any ideology and didn’t even seem to know his motive. She suggested that there must be one, that there needs to be a reason behind why people do the things they do. And I get it—this is a natural stance to take. After all, if everything has a reason, we can dissect it, understand it, and maybe prevent it from happening again. That’s the logic behind always looking for a motive.
But I strongly disagree.
The Problem with Assuming Motive
Here’s my issue: assuming that there has to be a motive is, in itself, a kind of narrative construction. By demanding a reason, we’re boxing ourselves into a framework that might not match reality. We’re not just analyzing events—we’re shaping them into a story that may not exist.
Humans love stories. We crave meaning. And so when a senseless crime happens, we want to impose meaning onto it. But sometimes, imposing meaning where there is none does more harm than good. It distorts the truth. It forces us to treat chaos as if it were order, randomness as if it were destiny.
Take Robinson’s alleged act. Maybe he did it just because. No ideology, no pre-planning, no deep psychological drive—just impulse, chaos, and a terrible decision in the moment. If that’s the case, then forcing a motive onto him risks misunderstanding the event entirely.
“Just Because” as a Motive in Itself
Now, I’m not saying this is a good thing. Far from it. If someone kills “just because,” that’s horrifying. It strips away any logic or reason we might cling to. It leaves nothing but raw violence.
But “just because” is, in its own way, still an answer. It’s the absence of motive as motive. It’s the acknowledgment that sometimes human beings act without reflection, without reasoning, without even knowing themselves why they do something. We can dig deep into psychology and find plenty of evidence that humans often act first and rationalize later. The story comes afterward. The justification is written after the fact.
If we admit this, we can better understand human unpredictability. Not every crime is part of a grand ideological war. Not every tragedy fits neatly into political categories. Sometimes it’s just chaos breaking through the cracks of daily life.
The Danger of Over-Narrativizing
When we insist that every act must have a motive, we risk creating a false clarity. That clarity might comfort us in the short term, but it also boxes us into narrow interpretations.
If we decide that Robinson must have had a political reason, then suddenly the narrative shifts: it becomes part of a partisan war, a talking point for pundits, a weapon for politicians. If we decide it was purely personal, then the story becomes one of mental health or individual pathology. If we decide it was ideological, then the story becomes about extremism and radicalization.
But what if it was none of those things? What if it really was just senseless? By forcing a motive, we end up misleading ourselves. We end up painting the wrong picture, one that might serve our need for order but doesn’t reflect reality.
Beyond Deconstruction
I find it ironic that Brittany Simon—who is all about deconstructing frameworks, questioning assumptions, and looking past societal narratives—still falls into this assumption that a motive must exist. To me, this is one of the clearest examples of how even the most open-minded perspectives can still be trapped by the need for narrative.
Deconstruction means stripping away assumptions. And one of the biggest assumptions we carry is that everything must have a reason. But maybe true deconstruction means admitting that some things just don’t.
Facing Chaos Without Comfort
It’s uncomfortable to admit that sometimes, violence or tragedy just happens. It feels nihilistic. If there’s no reason, then how do we prevent it? How do we make sense of it? How do we find justice or closure?
The truth is, maybe we don’t. Maybe part of living in the real world is accepting that some things are senseless, that some acts of violence are not ideologically loaded, not psychologically profound, not politically useful. They’re just chaos spilling over.
That doesn’t mean we stop trying to understand people or study causes. It just means we accept that our framework of “there must always be a motive” is limited. Sometimes, no matter how hard we dig, we won’t find one—because it’s not there.
The Hardest Truth
In the end, saying that Tyler Robinson may have acted “just because” doesn’t excuse him. It doesn’t lessen the tragedy of what happened to Charlie Kirk. It doesn’t make the act any less wrong. If anything, it makes it worse—because it shows how fragile our sense of order really is.
If people can kill without reason, then the world is far scarier than we like to admit. It means the comfort of narrative is a fragile illusion. It means that no ideology, no set of beliefs, no grand story can fully explain human behavior.
And maybe that’s the truth we need to confront.
Conclusion
Motives are useful. They help us categorize, explain, and process the world. But they are not always there. By insisting that every action must have a reason, we’re not just analyzing reality—we’re rewriting it to fit our needs.
Sometimes, people act without thinking. Sometimes they act without ideology, without reasoning, without even knowing themselves why. That doesn’t make the act less real or less impactful. It just means that reality is messier, more chaotic, and less comforting than we’d like.
So while Brittany Simon might argue that a motive is necessary, I stand firmly on the other side. The absence of motive is real. “Just because” is real. And until we accept that, we’ll keep mistaking our stories for the truth.