Researchers at the University of Lincoln recently determined that everyday aggression - the minor shoving, the barroom chest-puffery - and lethal aggression do not sit on the same continuum. In layman's terms: killing is not simply aggression dialed up to eleven. Good to know.
That is the theory. Then there is America, where a violent crime occurs every few seconds and someone is shot roughly every 30 minutes. The gap between the lab and the parking lot has rarely been wider.
It remains remarkably easy for most Americans in cities and towns to stroll into a licensed gun store and walk out with a high-powered rifle or a shiny new handgun. Private sales in some states still dodge background checks entirely. And even where the regulatory framework is formally robust, merely owning a firearm carries far less cultural stigma than in any other developed nation. In the U.S., guns are marketed and purchased as ordinary consumer goods - sitting right there on the glass display counter next to the hunting boots and the camping coolers, presumably with a little price tag and everything.
It is all rather insane but also undeniably true.
Confronted with the perennial question of why deadly violence runs so rampant across the U.S., various observers inevitably reach for the old faithful: Americans have simply always been an innately violent people. The rugged pioneer history, the wild frontier heritage, the glorification of vigilante justice - an ingrained cultural disposition toward fistfights and fatal retribution that will persist for as long as the republic itself survives. It's heritage, not homicide, presumably.
Yet guns, and the pervasive culture of physical violence more broadly, are merely the visible symptoms of a deeper affliction. Millions of everyday Americans hold absolute contempt for supporters of the opposing political party. Massive swathes of the population now regard a MAGA supporter or a Gavin Newsom fan with such visceral vitriol that planting a campaign sign in your front yard becomes immediate ammunition for a bitter, lifelong neighborhood rivalry. Nothing says 'community' like surveilling your neighbor's lawn décor for ideological deviations.
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 as direct reflections of work ethic, character, raw intelligence, and basic humanity. It is deemed fundamentally uncool to be poor, precisely because poverty carries the implicit cultural accusation that you screwed up somewhere along the way. The invisible hand, it turns out, also points.
In many other developed countries, 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 comparison, systematically guarantee comprehensive medical care and generous unemployment benefits, and 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. The safety net, it should be noted, is not so much a net as a decorative suggestion.
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 threatening your small business 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 human encounters feeling like a high-stakes gamble. The cashier asking 'paper or plastic' is, functionally, asking 'fight or flight.'
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.