When Rage Against the Machine roared "some of those who burn crosses are the same that work forces," they weren't just trying to sell records. They were pointing at a specific, terrifying intersection of institutional power and hate that has haunted the American landscape for over a century. Honestly, when most people think about cross burning today, they picture grainy black-and-white footage from the 1960s or maybe a scene from Mississippi Burning. It feels like a relic. It feels like something that ended when the world went digital.
But it didn't.
Cross burning is still happening. In 2023 and 2024, federal prosecutors were still bringing charges against individuals for lighting kerosene-soaked wood on people's lawns. It’s a specific type of terrorism that relies on a very dark, very deep history. It’s not just "fire on a stick." It is a legal, social, and psychological weapon that has evolved alongside our laws.
The Weird, Scottish Roots of an American Nightmare
You might think cross burning started with the original Ku Klux Klan right after the Civil War. It didn't. Interestingly, the first iteration of the KKK (1865–1871) didn't actually burn crosses. They used robes and masks, sure, but the flaming cross was a later invention.
Basically, we can blame a novelist.
In 1905, Thomas Dixon Jr. wrote The Clansman. He was obsessed with his Scottish heritage. In old Scotland, the Crann Tara was a wooden cross set on fire to signal that a clan needed to gather for war. Dixon thought this looked cinematic. He wrote it into his book, and then D.W. Griffith put it into the 1915 film The Birth of a Nation.
Life imitated art in the worst way possible.
William J. Simmons, the man who revived the KKK at Stone Mountain, Georgia, in 1915, saw the movie and decided the burning cross was the perfect brand. He used it to recruit millions. By the 1920s, cross burnings weren't just happening in the woods; they were happening on the National Mall. It became a shorthand for "we are watching you."
Some of Those Who Burn Crosses: The Institutional Link
The "work forces" line from Zack de la Rocha isn't just a catchy lyric; it’s a reference to a systemic reality that researchers have been tracking for decades. When we talk about some of those who burn crosses, we are talking about the infiltration of extremist ideologies into positions of public trust.
In 2006, an FBI intelligence assessment titled "White Supremacist Infiltration of Law Enforcement" warned that "skinhead" and KKK groups were actively encouraging their members to become "sleeper" officers. This isn't a conspiracy theory. It's a documented concern from the highest levels of federal law enforcement.
Take the case of the Florida police officers in Fruitland Park. In 2014, the FBI revealed that two officers were members of the KKK. One was a deputy chief. This happens because these groups value the "shield" of the law. It gives them a way to exercise their bias under the guise of "public safety."
Nuance matters here, though.
It’s not every cop. It’s not even most. But the history of cross burning is inextricably tied to the history of local power structures. In the 1950s, the "forces" weren't just working alongside the burners—they often were the burners. They held the matches and then went to work the next morning to "investigate" the crime.
The Legal Tightrope: When is a Fire a Crime?
You’d think burning a cross would be an automatic "go to jail" card. It’s not.
The Supreme Court has had a really tough time with this because of the First Amendment. In 1992, in a case called R.A.V. v. City of St. Paul, the court actually struck down a bias-motivated crime ordinance. A teenager had burned a cross on a Black family's lawn. The court said the law was too broad because it punished the content of the speech, even if that speech was hateful.
Then came Virginia v. Black in 2003.
This is the big one. Justice Sandra Day O'Connor wrote that the government can ban cross burning if it’s done with the "intent to intimidate."
The Intimidation Factor
If you burn a cross in an open field as a political statement (as weird as that sounds to most of us), it might be protected speech. But if you put it on someone’s driveway? That is a "true threat."
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The law looks for three things:
- Targeting: Is this aimed at a specific person or family?
- Location: Is it private property?
- History: Does the act evoke a history of violence that makes a reasonable person fear for their life?
Why the Symbol Refuses to Die
Why not just use a spray-paint can? Why go through the effort of building a wooden structure and dousing it in fuel?
Because it works.
Psychologically, cross burning is what experts call a "signal of capability." It tells the victim that the perpetrator is willing to come to their home, spend time on their lawn, and commit an act of arson. It says, "I was here, and I can come back."
Dr. Kathleen Blee, a sociologist at the University of Pittsburgh who has interviewed many former members of extremist groups, notes that these rituals are also about internal bonding. It’s a "theatre of hate." It makes the small-minded feel powerful.
In 2021, a man in Virginia was sentenced to 18 months in prison for burning a cross to intimidate his Black neighbors. He didn't have a giant organization behind him. He was just a guy with a hateful idea. This shows that the symbol has "decoupled" from the formal KKK and become a tool for "lone wolf" actors.
The Modern "Work Forces"
In 2026, the "forces" look a little different. We aren't just talking about police. We’re talking about private security, data analysts, and even people working in tech. The radicalization pipeline has moved from the backwoods to Discord servers and Telegram channels.
The Anti-Defamation League (ADL) and the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) have both noted a spike in "white power" flyering and small-scale demonstrations. Cross burning is rarer now than in the 20s, but its digital equivalent—doxxing and swatting—carries the same DNA of intimidation.
A Reality Check on Statistics
Data on this is notoriously messy. Hate crime reporting is voluntary for local police departments. Many departments simply report "zero" hate crimes because they don't want the bad PR, or they don't have the training to identify them.
When we look at the numbers from the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting (UCR) program, we see a rise in "crimes against persons" motivated by race. Cross burning falls into this, but it’s often categorized as "intimidation" or "arson" rather than its own specific line item.
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What You Can Actually Do
Understanding the history of some of those who burn crosses is step one. But what’s the practical move?
If you encounter this kind of activity—or even the build-up to it (like localized hate speech or flyering)—there are specific channels that actually produce results.
- Document, don't touch. If a symbol of hate appears, the physical evidence is fragile. Accelerants on a cross can be traced back to a specific gas station or brand. Take high-resolution photos and call local law enforcement immediately, but also report it to the FBI’s civil rights division.
- Support the HEAL Act and similar legislation. There is a constant push to improve hate crime reporting requirements for local police. Pressure on local city councils to mandate transparent reporting is the only way to get real data.
- Monitor the "Forces." Oversight boards for law enforcement are often the only things that catch extremist infiltration before it turns into a crisis. Engaging with your local police oversight committee isn't just about reform; it's about vetting.
- Educate on the "Why." Most people think these acts are random. They aren't. They are calculated. Sharing the history of Virginia v. Black helps people understand that these aren't just "pranks"—they are specific legal violations of civil rights.
The fire hasn't gone out because the underlying tensions haven't been resolved. The cross is just the wick. The fuel is a mixture of perceived grievance and institutional protection. By recognizing the patterns—the "work forces" connection and the legal threshold of "intent to intimidate"—we can start to dismantle the power the symbol still holds.
Stay vigilant about your local community's law enforcement transparency. Check the public records of who is being hired and what kind of oversight is in place. Extreme ideologies thrive in the dark; the best way to fight a burning cross is with a very bright, very public spotlight.
Actionable Steps for Community Safety
- Audit Local Transparency: Check if your local police department contributes to the FBI's National Incident-Based Reporting System (NIBRS). If they don't, ask your city council why.
- Establish a Rapid Response Network: Civil rights organizations recommend having a pre-set contact list of local leaders, legal aid, and media contacts to ensure that hate incidents aren't swept under the rug.
- Verify Source Material: When you see reports of "extremist infiltration," look for federal indictments or internal affairs reports rather than just social media rumors. Facts are the best weapon against institutional bias.