The Machinery of Suppression: Why the State Kills to Maintain the Status Quo

In light of recent developments (National Guard and Marine deployments in Los Angeles, the establishment of de facto concentration camps in Florida, and the escalation of mass deportations), the writing is on the wall: state violence in America is poised to blossom once again. While the full extent of what lies ahead remains uncertain, history offers us a disturbing mirror. To understand what may come, we must examine what has already been. The United States has a long and bloody tradition of turning its apparatus of power inward, wielding violence not just against foreign enemies but against its own citizens. Revisiting this legacy is not just an academic exercise; it is a necessary act of vigilance in recognizing the cyclical patterns of repression that define American governance when power feels threatened.

The history of the United States is punctuated by chilling examples of state-sanctioned violence against its own citizens. From labor uprisings in the coalfields of Appalachia to student protests against war and racial injustice, the state has repeatedly resorted to deadly force not as a last resort, but as a calculated mechanism to preserve the existing order. These actions, often obscured or sanitized in mainstream historical narratives, reveal the extent to which the state operates not as a neutral arbiter but as an enforcer of entrenched economic and political hierarchies.

At its core, the state is a structure of organized power. Despite rhetoric of liberty and justice, its primary function, especially in capitalist society, is to safeguard the material and ideological interests of the ruling class. This function becomes most visible when those interests are directly threatened by collective action, especially from the working class or marginalized groups. The murder of citizens under the banner of preserving law and order, national security, or public safety is not an aberration; it is a feature of a system rooted in control.

Repression as Policy, Not Mistake

Incidents like the Ludlow Massacre and the Battle of Blair Mountain are not historical flukes. They represent a consistent pattern where the state's response to organized resistance is militarized violence. When coal miners demanded humane conditions and union recognition, they were met not with negotiation but with bullets and bayonets. When Black communities, like those in Tulsa, built economic independence, they were razed with impunity. When students raised their voices against imperialist wars or racial oppression, they were gunned down by the very forces sworn to protect them.

The justification is always the same: stability. But whose stability? The answer lies in the alignment between state institutions and corporate power. The police, National Guard, and even federal troops have historically acted as proxies for industrial magnates, plantation owners, and political elites. Stability in this context means the continued flow of capital, the suppression of labor power, and the quelling of dissenting ideologies that challenge the hegemony of white supremacy and unfettered capitalism.

The Psychological Warfare of Violence

The use of lethal force also serves a symbolic function: it instills fear. When the state massacres strikers or bombs Black neighborhoods, it sends a clear message: resistance carries the risk of annihilation. This terror is not incidental. It is psychological warfare designed to isolate radicals, fracture solidarity, and discipline entire populations into compliance. The spectacle of state violence becomes a deterrent, reinforced by legal impunity and media complicity.

Media narratives often sanitize or outright erase these atrocities, framing them as necessary to restore order or blaming the victims for their own deaths. This reframing allows the state to commit violence without accountability, while simultaneously maintaining its image as a democratic, benevolent institution.

Suppression Through Legality

The state also employs the veneer of legality to justify its violence. From anti-union laws to anti-protest statutes, the criminalization of dissent is a hallmark of authoritarian tendencies within ostensibly democratic systems. Legal mechanisms not only enable physical repression but also delegitimize resistance movements by branding them as criminal or un-American. This legal violence is often accompanied by surveillance, infiltration, and blacklisting; tools perfected during the Red Scare and revived in the post-9/11 surveillance state.

Laws are crafted to protect property before people, corporations before communities. When the machinery of the state is activated, it becomes evident who those laws are written for and who they are written against.

Continuity, Not Exception

It is tempting to view these incidents as relics of a darker past, outliers in the arc of progress. But the through-line from Wounded Knee to Ferguson, from Kent State to Standing Rock, exposes a continuous lineage of suppression. The tactics have evolved, rubber bullets and LRADs instead of bayonets and bombs, but the intent remains: maintain control, protect capital, and neutralize threats to power.

In this light, the state's violence is not merely a reaction; it is a preemptive strategy. The threat need not be actualized; the mere possibility of organized disruption to the status quo is often enough to provoke repression. This is why even peaceful protests are surveilled, infiltrated, and sometimes met with brutal force.

The Real Threat: An Informed, Mobilized Public

The most dangerous citizen to the state is not the violent radical, but the informed, organized, and unwaveringly collective actor. When communities unite across lines of race, class, and ideology to demand systemic change, they threaten the foundations upon which elite power rests. The state's violence, then, is not merely punitive; it is defensive.

It defends a system where wealth is hoarded, labor is exploited, and dissent is marginalized. It defends a mythology that frames America as a land of opportunity while masking its legacy of dispossession, enslavement, and exclusion. And it defends a narrative where the state is savior, not oppressor.

To understand these atrocities is to confront the uncomfortable truth that the American state has never been neutral. It has always been a weapon, a tool wielded by those in power to maintain power, even at the cost of its own people.

Notable Incidents of State Violence Against U.S. Citizens:

Ludlow Massacre (1914) – Colorado National Guard and mine guards attack striking coal miners. ~21 killed.

Battle of Blair Mountain (1921) – Largest labor uprising in U.S. history. ~50–100 coal miners killed.

Haymarket Affair (1886) – Labor rally in Chicago turns deadly. Several killed after bomb and police gunfire.

Homestead Strike (1892) – Workers battle Pinkertons and state militia at Carnegie's mill. ~16 dead.

Pullman Strike (1894) – Federal troops suppress railroad strike. ~30 workers killed.

Thibodaux Massacre (1887) – Black sugarcane workers massacred by white vigilantes. ~30–60 killed.

Everett Massacre (1916) – Labor union members shot by law enforcement. At least 7 dead.

Memorial Day Massacre (1937) – Police attack steelworkers in Chicago. 10 killed, dozens injured.

Wounded Knee Massacre (1890) – U.S. Army slaughters Lakota Sioux. ~150–300 killed.

Tulsa Race Massacre (1921) – White mob destroys Black district. ~100–300 African Americans killed.

MOVE Bombing (1985) – Philadelphia police drop bomb on Black liberation group. 11 killed.

Kent State Massacre (1970) – Ohio National Guard kills 4 student protestors.

Jackson State Killings (1970) – Police shoot students. 2 killed, 12 injured.

Orangeburg Massacre (1968) – Police fire on Black students. 3 killed, 28 wounded.