Why do Americans keep killing each other?

Researchers at the University of Lincoln recently found that everyday aggression (e.g., minor physical altercations) and lethal aggression do not lie on the same continuum. In other words, killing isn’t merely aggression turned up to its highest setting.

That is the theory. Then there is America, where a violent crime occurs every few seconds, and someone is shot roughly every 30 minutes.

It remains remarkably easy for most of those living in American cities and towns to stroll directly into licensed gun stores and walk out with high-powered rifles or shiny new handguns.

Background checks can be avoided for private sales in some states. And even where regulatory frameworks are formally robust, the act of owning firearms remains far less culturally stigmatized than in any other developed nation. In the U.S., guns are routinely marketed and purchased as ordinary consumer goods, sitting alongside hunting boots and camping coolers on the glass display counter at a local retailer.

It is all rather insane but also undeniably true.

When confronting the perennial question of why deadly violence runs so completely rampant across the U.S., various observers inevitably argue that Americans have simply always been an innately violent people. These commentators claim that the nation’s rugged pioneer history and wild frontier heritage actively demand widespread firearm ownership while glorifying vigilante justice — an ingrained cultural disposition toward fistfights and fatal retribution that will inevitably persist for as long as the republic itself survives.

Yet guns, and the pervasive culture of physical violence more broadly, operate merely as visible symptoms of a deeper underlying affliction. Millions of everyday Americans have absolute contempt for supporters of opposing political parties. Massive swathes of the population now view a MAGA supporter or a Gavin Newsom fan through a lens of such visceral vitriol that planting a campaign sign in one’s front yard becomes immediate ammunition for bitter, lifelong neighborhood rivalries.

Americans treat one another with extraordinary cruelty. This hyper-individualistic society has convinced the masses that financial prosperity is the single most important metric of human existence, and that falling short financially is an unmistakable indictment of a person’s moral character.

Socioeconomic success and failure are continually reinterpreted across the culture as direct reflections of an individual’s work ethic, character, raw intelligence, and basic humanity. It is deemed fundamentally uncool to be poor, precisely because remaining poor carries the implicit cultural accusation that you have somehow failed or screwed up along the way.

In many other developed countries across the globe, losing your job is painful but rarely world-shattering. In the U.S., it can become an existential catastrophe. European nations, to take a familiar point of comparison, systematically guarantee comprehensive medical care and generous unemployment benefits. They often subsidize public housing for particularly disadvantaged citizens.

In America, losing your primary employment often means instantaneously forfeiting your family’s health insurance coverage as well. This is one reason the modest household savings of the newly unemployed are unlikely to last long.

Americans treat personal finances with such desperate, suffocating solemnity precisely because the social safety net is virtually nonexistent. Lose your steady job, and you may very well lose the roof over your head soon after. Consequently, a minor fender bender or an unfairly punitive restaurant review that threatens your small business’s livelihood becomes an entirely rational cause for sudden panic. It is hardly surprising that Americans navigate daily interactions with crippling anxiety and defensive hostility.

Absent structural guarantees, practically any unexpected life event can trigger complete ruin, leaving even routine, everyday human encounters feeling like a high-stakes gamble.

For laborers, the prevailing economic model demands maximum uninterrupted output while ruthlessly penalizing any sign of physical or emotional vulnerability. Taking time off for personal wellness or to care for sick children is viewed with suspicion. Genuine job security remains entirely elusive even after years of loyal service.

Public infrastructure has decayed to the point that the working poor must shell out hundreds of earned dollars every month just for the basic privilege of driving a car to work. Should the monthly bills go unpaid because a job was abruptly eliminated, the local eviction courts process and discard impoverished families with ruthless efficiency, leaving their meager personal belongings to decorate the public sidewalks shortly thereafter.

When everyday life is an exercise in perpetual panic, and tempers remain paper-thin, it’s hardly surprising that so many people instinctively reach for a lethal weapon to settle a matter. It has become terrifyingly easy to cross a line that should never be crossed. As more people lose their jobs and their homes , we should expect more Americans to lose their minds and more to lose their lives.

John Mac Ghlionn is a writer and researcher who explores culture, society and the impact of technology on daily life.