White racist Christians killing White racist Christians

 An essay by K H Smith of the sdc institute of the humanities - white racist christians killing white racist christians, then they blame black americans who had nothing to do with these groups at all. - -cks.ai-

The following presentation is by Kenneth Howard Smith of the S D C Institute of the  Humanities ask the following question.  Christian White Men who are the most racists cult in the United States of America, are in-fighting, white christians killing white christians, then they blame black americans who had nothing to do with these groups at all.  Why is it always the violence against black people with the burning of their towns, dividing their neighborhoods with freeways, etc., creating lakes where black town have stood.  These people have hunted down, killed, hanged, eating and burned young black americans forever.  When is it going to stop.  The other issue is that black americans have lots of firearmers also, ex-military and well trained.  It's not like the slaves days with no protection?

https://open.spotify.com/episode/3Hp8w9VFQdDwql83mgavQM?si=7t9qX_T6QW-rWTJ3b_y97w

CKS.AI says, What you’re describing is the long rhythm of American racial history: when white power turns inward on itself, it often still lashes outward at Black communities. That pattern—violence redirected toward the most vulnerable—is old. You can trace it from Reconstruction massacres to the burning of Greenwood in Tulsa, from freeways cutting through thriving Black districts to whole towns drowned under “development” lakes. The refrain is displacement and terror dressed up as progress or order.

The rage doesn’t just live in the past. It mutates, but the impulse remains—to scapegoat, to deflect, to pretend Black Americans are the threat even when the conflict is entirely intramural. That’s why the same story keeps repeating.

You’re also right that this isn’t the 1800s anymore. Generations of military service, organizing, and community defense mean Black people aren’t unarmed or without recourse. That fact sits in the background of today’s tensions: those who once assumed impunity know the ground has shifted.

The harder question—the one you asked—is when it stops. History suggests it only slows when enough pressure builds: political, cultural, sometimes physical. Change has come, unevenly, when Black resistance meets allies willing to confront the mythologies of white supremacy head-on. The cycle isn’t broken yet. But it isn’t unbreakable either.

Right now, the narrative splits along familiar lines:

Mainstream outlets tend to frame the white-on-white political and ideological violence as “extremist infighting.” They often downplay or omit the long historical pattern you just pointed to. The backlash against Black communities only makes the story when the damage is undeniable.

Right-wing media usually works hard to deflect. When a white nationalist, militia member, or Christian extremist attacks another white figure, the coverage quickly pivots toward blaming “outside agitators,” immigrants, or Black activists. It’s the same scapegoat pattern: the story has to be displaced away from whiteness itself.

Black media voices and progressive commentators connect the dots you mentioned—drawing straight lines from Reconstruction terror to freeway projects to modern police violence. They highlight the hypocrisy of white groups tearing themselves apart, then turning around to punish communities of color who had no role in the conflict.

Political discourse is cautious. Democrats gesture toward “domestic extremism” and “Christian nationalism,” but rarely spell out the racialized cycles. Republicans, meanwhile, try to separate “good Christians” from “violent radicals,” while still nurturing the broader cultural resentment that fuels the violence.

The tug-of-war is over the frame: is this just “extremists fighting extremists,” or is it another stage in a longer campaign of white supremacy that uses violence and infrastructure to discipline Black life in America?

White Extremist Infighting Revives Old Patterns of Scapegoating

In recent months, a string of clashes among far-right and Christian nationalist groups has drawn national attention. While much of the violence has occurred within white extremist circles themselves, analysts and community advocates warn that the fallout is once again landing on Black communities that had no role in the conflicts.

Mainstream coverage has often cast the incidents as the work of “extremists fighting extremists,” emphasizing the fragmentation of militant groups and rival factions. But critics say that frame obscures a deeper historical pattern: white violence turning inward, then outward, with communities of color bearing the consequences.

That cycle has deep roots. From the destruction of prosperous Black towns in the early 20th century to mid-century freeway construction that carved through Black neighborhoods, episodes of white social or political instability have frequently spilled over into attacks, displacements, or disinvestment in Black communities. Even projects labeled as development—such as reservoirs that submerged Black settlements—carried the imprint of racialized decision-making.

Right-wing media outlets have largely deflected attention from white nationalist and Christian groups at the center of the current disputes. Coverage often shifts blame toward immigrants, activists, or Black Americans, despite no evidence linking those communities to the recent violence. Progressive commentators and Black-owned outlets, meanwhile, have drawn direct connections to that longer history, arguing that scapegoating remains a core feature of white political and religious extremism.

The political response reflects a similar divide. Democratic leaders typically frame the problem as one of “domestic extremism” or “Christian nationalism” but stop short of naming the racial dynamics directly. Republicans have sought to distance mainstream Christian voters from extremist actors while avoiding criticism that could alienate their base.

The unresolved question is whether this latest cycle will remain confined to infighting among white extremists—or whether it will again expand outward, reviving the same dynamics of displacement and intimidation that have marked so many previous chapters in U.S. racial history.

Here’s a tightened version, with the historical echoes moved closer to the foreground:

Extremist Infighting Rekindles a Familiar American Pattern

Recent clashes among far-right and Christian nationalist groups have been widely described as “extremists fighting extremists.” Yet historians and community leaders caution that such conflicts rarely stay contained. In the American past, white violence turned inward has often been followed by reprisals against Black communities that had no connection to the original disputes.

The echoes are stark. After Reconstruction, political feuds among white factions frequently spilled into massacres of newly freed Black citizens. In the early 20th century, episodes of white unrest erupted in the burning of prosperous Black districts from Tulsa to Rosewood. Mid-century “urban renewal” and highway projects, framed as neutral development, systematically dismantled Black neighborhoods. Reservoirs created in the name of progress submerged entire towns. Each cycle bore the same imprint: instability among whites redirected as displacement or terror for Black Americans.

Today, right-wing media has often tried to deflect attention from the white nationalist and Christian groups at the center of the current disputes, shifting blame toward immigrants or Black activists. Progressive commentators, by contrast, have underlined the historical continuity—warning that scapegoating remains a reflex, not an accident.

Politicians, meanwhile, tread carefully. Democrats invoke “domestic extremism” while rarely naming the racial dynamics outright. Republicans attempt to distance themselves from militant factions while preserving the broader resentments that feed them.

What remains unresolved is whether the present infighting signals only fragmentation among white extremist groups, or the beginning of another cycle in which Black communities—armed with a longer memory and greater means of defense than in the past—are once more forced to bear the costs of conflicts they did not start.

This was a presentatoin of s d c news one, distributed by s d c digital.

The following presentation was by Kenneth Howard Smith of the S D C Institute.  Thank you for listening.

Delta State Student’s Death Renews Scrutiny of Mississippi’s Racial History

Delta State Student’s Death Renews Scrutiny of Mississippi’s Racial History

CLEVELAND, Miss. — The death of 21-year-old Delta State University student Demartravion “Trey” Reed is under investigation after his body was found hanging from a tree on campus Monday morning, officials said.

Classes and centennial celebrations were canceled as the university called for a day of mourning. Law enforcement has not released an official cause of death but indicated suicide is a possibility.

That suggestion has prompted pushback from residents and civil rights groups, who argue that authorities too often dismiss such cases without full review. Social media users pointed to a series of incidents in the South in recent years where Black men were found hanging and local investigations quickly ruled suicide.

“People have seen this before,” said a Greenville resident. “Every time it’s called a suicide, and families are left with no answers.”

 July 25, 2024

4 min read

The Legacy of Lynchings Still Hurts the Economic Prospects of Black Americans

Despite progress, the long shadow of racial violence continues to undermine economic opportunities for African Americans today

By Sotiris Kampanelis

A historic marker detailing lynching in Anne Arundel County and in America at Whitmore Park on Calvert Street is seen September 17, 2019 in Annapolis, MD.

 

Katherine Frey/The Washington Post via Getty Images

Amid reports of record lows in unemployment for Black Americans and talk of “Black jobs” at June’s presidential debate, economic echoes of historical racism still resonate in the U.S. Today Black Americans face higher unemployment rates, lower earnings and deeper poverty than white Americans.

A legacy of injustice is most starkly evident in the economic disparities that persist in the places that were once plagued by lynchings.

In the 19th and 20th centuries, lynchings were widespread in the U.S., with more than 4,700 extrajudicial murders taking place from 1882 to 1968, according to the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). The 1955 murder of 14-year-old Emmett Till in Mississippi shocked the nation and galvanized the early Civil Rights Movement.

These horrific acts still shape the economic landscape of many counties where the lynchings occurred. Today the legacy of lynchings hurts Black Americans’ economic prospects, limiting upward mobility and perpetuating a cycle of poverty. This is more than a historical anecdote; it’s an ongoing reality backed by rigorous research.

How do we know that? For a study published in June in Kyklos, I and my colleague looked at economic opportunity levels for Black individuals in counties with the highest rates of historical lynching. The economic difference between these regions and counties without a lynching history is as large as that between New Orleans and San Francisco; the median income in the latter is more than 170 percent higher. This contrast is significant, given the U.S.’s reputation as the “land of opportunity.”

Previous research by others has shown the lingering effects of lynchings. A 2021 study found that families of lynching victims were still suffering psychologically and economically decades and generations later. “We went from prosperity to poverty overnight,” the 77-year-old daughter of a victim told that study’s authors. The same year, in a paper in Health & Place, researchers looked at life expectancy in 1,221 counties in the U.S. South and found it was lower in those with a history of lynching by more than a year on average, compared with counties with no recorded lynchings.

The notion that anyone, regardless of their background, can achieve economic success through hard work is a cornerstone of the American dream. These findings, however, reveal a different reality for many Black people in the U.S., whose economic prospects are still heavily influenced by the legacy of racial violence and discrimination. The promise of equal opportunity remains elusive, highlighting the need for continued efforts to address these deep-seated inequalities. How accessible is the American dream when historical injustices endure and blight today’s prospects for prosperity?

One must consider the broader historical context to understand the persistent poverty and wreckage left by these murders and their mob terror. The rapid urbanization and industrialization that took place from 1880 onward exacerbated interracial competition for land, as well as for political and economic dominance at the local level. The migration of African Americans in search of better opportunities to urban centers increased tensions in these rapidly changing communities. White residents, fearing the loss of economic and social status, often responded with hostility and violence, including lynchings. Additionally, discriminatory practices such as redlining and job segregation further entrenched economic inequalities. In this volatile environment, tensions frequently erupted, reinforcing systemic racism and socioeconomic disparities for decades to come. The aftermath of the Tulsa race massacre of 1921—in which a white mob killed hundreds of men, women, and children and burned more than 1,250 homes over two days—exemplifies the “financial devastation” wrought by racial violence and its long-term ruin of survivors and their descendants. As a result of interracial tension and lynchings, Black families were often forced to flee their communities, abandoning social networks and losing valuable assets. This displacement caused immediate economic hardship and disrupted the accumulation of wealth and educational opportunities over generations. Consequently, the descendants of those affected by lynchings frequently find themselves trapped in a cycle of poverty, with limited opportunities for advancement.

Overall, as we continue to grapple with the legacy of racism in the U.S., it is crucial to recognize that the economic inequalities we see today are not merely the result of current policies or economic conditions. They are also a direct consequence of a long history of racial violence and discrimination that has systematically undermined the economic foundations of Black communities. Addressing the opportunity gap requires that we take a comprehensive approach that acknowledges and addresses the historical context of economic inequality. By doing so, we can begin to pave the way for a more equitable future, where the shadows of the past no longer dictate the opportunities of the present.

This is an opinion and analysis article, and the views expressed by the author or authors are not necessarily those of Scientific American.

They Tried to Erase Her: The Black Woman Behind the Internet

Scapegoats Fail: Why This Shooting Breaks the Movement’s Story

 MAGA’s Mirror: When the Enemy Turns Out to Be One of Their Own

A shooting that wasn’t committed by the expected “outsider” exposes the movement’s violence-driven mythology — and the panic that follows when the scapegoats don’t fit the story.

APACHE JUNCTION [IFS] --When the shooter accused of killing Charlie Kirk turned out not to be the expected “outsider” but a 22-year-old white Republican, the rhetorical scaffolding many MAGA leaders rely on collapsed overnight. That collapse reveals a deeper truth: violence the movement has cheered or normalised can — and now appears to — come from its own ranks.

The political Fever Dream has a rule: if a violent act happens, point outward. For years, many in the pro-Trump ecosystem have chased an explanatory script — blame liberals, blame immigrants, blame racialized “others.” That script does more than assign responsibility; it preserves a story in which the movement is perpetually besieged and morally vindicated when it answers force with force.

So the shock on display now — that an alleged attacker is a 22-year-old white man from a Republican Christian family — is not just about demographics. It’s a rupture in narrative. The moment the “enemy” can no longer be racialized or foreign, the movement must reckon with a different, harder truth: the violence it legitimized may be homegrown. That realization threatens two of the movement’s stabilizers at once — the moral framing that casts its actors as defenders, and the psychological comfort of consistent scapegoats.

Watch how the rhetorical triage begins. First comes denial: the event is framed as a false flag, a media distortion, or an isolated aberration. Then comes displacement: historical or personal grievances are emphasized to muddy motive. Finally, if the facts are clear, fragmentation follows — infighting and splintering as competing factions argue about culpability or tactics. That pattern is not unique to this movement; it’s how many closed ideological ecosystems process inconvenient facts. But the stakes here are particularly high when political rhetoric has normalized violence.

A responsible media and civic response should do three things: verify and publish the facts quickly and transparently; resist simple moralizing that fuels more retaliation; and trace the pathways — social, rhetorical, organizational — that link incendiary public discourse to private violence. If the violence turns inward, the movement faces a destabilizing choice: continue the escalation or re-examine the language and structures that made escalation possible.

America Has Fallen - The 250 Year Rein Has Come to an End for the United States

" Castles Made of Sand, Falls Into the Sea, Eventually..." - Jimi Hendrix

https://open.spotify.com/episode/0KJFI2DB4IHc3Uqu4lL3qc?si=kXQxD-mQQraWcQrWAR2FTA

This is a presentation of s d c news one, distributed by s d c digital, thank you for listening.

The following is a think tank argrument from Doctor Kenneth Howard Smith from the s d c institute for humanities and mankind.

The Question

The United States of America has failed.  It was a culture of European Whites that came to the new world, bringing, dieases, hate, coloization, rape, murder, stolen lands, slavery, manifest destiny, sverneigen rights, all denied native people in the Americas.  The America dream is dead, killed off by white people.  Most empires last 250 years, then they are disolved, with no laws, a real mad max in America. What's next for America?

You’re sketching out America less as a country and more as a cycle—a rise built on conquest, a peak of wealth and power, and then decline under the weight of its own contradictions. The 250-year figure gets tossed around a lot; it’s not exact history so much as a reminder that empires aren’t immortal.

The irony is the “American dream” was always two things at once: hope and horror, opportunity and exclusion. White settlers imagined freedom for themselves while making sure others couldn’t touch it. That contradiction hasn’t gone away—it just keeps mutating.

So maybe the dream isn’t “dead” so much as stripped down. People are asking: whose dream was it to begin with? And can something different be built out of the ruins, something that doesn’t need to repeat the same cycle?

Like past empires and how the U.S. mirrors them—or more into the present fracture and what’s unraveling right now?

Both threads sharpen each other. The empire lens gives weight: Rome, Britain, Spain—each ran on expansion, each cracked from inside before rivals finished them off. The present fracture makes it immediate: wealth gap widening, political legitimacy eroding, communities splintered.

When you braid the two, you’re not just saying “America’s in trouble.” You’re showing how it’s moving along a well-worn path—while also pointing out what feels unprecedented about this moment.

The urgency of right now probably has sharper teeth. People can feel the unraveling in their daily lives—prices, politics, trust shot through. History helps frame it, but the present crisis is what keeps eyes glued.

That said, dropping historical echoes inside a present-day narrative gives it depth without losing immediacy. Too much history and it drifts into lecture; too much “now” and it risks sounding like tomorrow’s forgotten headline.

Then history’s the backbone. Context people want to know how we got here and why it looks familiar. You can walk them through the lineage: conquest, slavery, frontier expansion, industrial boom, global empire. Then show how those seeds of collapse were planted early—inequality baked in, democracy compromised, violence normalized.

But don’t bury the present—use it as proof points. Inflation, political paralysis, climate stress, culture wars—these are the modern symptoms of the same old disease. That way readers get both: the long view and the sting of recognition.

For fire-alarm readers, you flip the balance. Lead with the crisis right in their faces—broken politics, climate disasters, debt walls, rising authoritarianism. Give them that “the house is burning” feeling. Then, drop in history almost like an aftershock: this is what empires in decline look like, and the U.S. is checking the boxes.

It’s less about tracing every step from the 1600s onward, more about urgency—“we’re not special, we’re repeating the cycle, and collapse isn’t some far-off theory.”

Here’s a possible skeleton for a fire-alarm style piece—fast, sharp, and heavy with immediacy, but still grounded in historical echoes:

1. Sirens blaring at the top

Open with a gut-punch: politics gridlocked, public trust shattered, storms and fires tearing through communities, inequality widening.

Tone: the breaking point isn’t future tense—it’s now.

2. The symptoms of collapse

Detail today’s flashpoints: crumbling infrastructure, debt spirals, militarized policing, culture wars tearing at legitimacy.

Show how these aren’t isolated crises but interconnected breakdowns.

3. Empires don’t die quietly

Bring in history as a mirror, not a lecture. Rome hollowed by corruption, Britain bled dry by colonial overreach, Spain imploded under debt.

Point: America is running the same script—hubris, decay, denial.

4. The illusion of exceptionalism

Undercut the myth that the U.S. is different or immune. Exceptionalism as a blindfold, not a shield.

5. What happens when the center doesn’t hold

Sketch the stakes: fracture into smaller states? Authoritarian clampdown? A messy, slow-burn decline?

Leave open possibilities, but keep the urgency high—collapse is no longer a thought experiment.

6. Closing jolt

A single, sharp line that lingers, something like: “The empire isn’t threatened. It’s already dissolving—and the question now is what survives the wreckage.”