As the U.S. celebrates its 250th anniversary, its citizens commemorate a democracy more diverse, free and inclusive than it’s ever been. The path to this milestone was imperfect and paved in blood and suffering. Still, few of the revelers will likely pay heed to the anniversary of another historic event: the 150th anniversary of the July 1876 Hamburg massacre.

The massacre, which took place in Hamburg, South Carolina, began as a dispute between a local Black militia and two white citizens over whether the latter could cross the group’s centennial Fourth of July parade. The militia leader, Doc Adams, was later charged with blocking a public highway.

At his court hearing, Adams was met with a white militia – part of the white supremacist Red Shirts – which then pursued the Black militia on their retreat to their weapons arsenal. After a firefight, the Red Shirts captured several Black militiamen, marched them to a nearby site and executed at least four people.

South Carolina’s Republican governor, Union veteran Daniel Henry Chamberlain, described the event as a “butchery of unoffending and unarmed colored men by a brutal and bloodthirsty mob of white men.” Yet no one was convicted after the attack. In fact, several of the Red Shirts ringleaders would instead rise to the highest offices in the state.

Corey Rogers, an organizer of the 150th anniversary Hamburg commemoration, recently called this massacre “the seminal event that began to change the trajectory of African Americans.” The repression and inequality that would define the next 100 years of U.S. history, in other words, was born at Hamburg.

As a scholar of domestic terrorism, I study the long history of white supremacist and far-right violence in the U.S. My research shows that the Hamburg massacre was not just characteristic of a broader violent moment, but also that the echoes of such violence ring loudly today.

From Hamburg, across the South

According to one estimate, the 12 years of the Reconstruction era, during which the Union attempted to construct a racially diverse democracy in the wake of the Civil War, saw over 2,000 Black citizens murdered in “racial terror lynchings.” Another estimate, from 1895, more starkly claimed that as many as 53,000 Black Americans had been murdered in the 30 years following the Civil War.

By intimidating Black voters and galvanizing white Democrats who sought to undo the results of the Civil War, this violence served to effectively kill Reconstruction and the tangible promises of Black emancipation.

What happened in Hamburg provides a particularly egregious example of such racial terrorism catapulting political triumph. After that tragedy, several of the Red Shirts ringleaders went on to successful political careers, with two of them becoming U.S. senators – one of whom, Benjamin Tillman, also served as South Carolina governor.

As Jenny Heckel, then a Clemson University graduate student, noted in her 2016 master’s thesis, it was “not in spite of the white Carolinians’ participation in the murder of six black men, but because of it, they won election to political offices.”

In South Carolina’s 1876 gubernatorial race, the Democratic candidate, Confederate veteran Wade Hampton III, emerged triumphant and reinstated white supremacy as the fulcrum of state governance. His name had been put forward by former Confederate major general Matthew Butler, who had represented the two white farmers before the Hamburg attack and who himself went on to serve in the U.S. Senate.

In 1895, South Carolina held a constitutional convention, spearheaded by the aforementioned Hamburg massacre ringleader Tillman, and adopted a new constitution that effectively ended the Black vote in the state.

An enduring threat

In the 1890s, renowned abolitionist and orator Frederick Douglass said white vigilantes offered three justifications for the lynchings of Black Americans: stamping out alleged race riots, protecting the white vote share and protecting white women from alleged sexual crimes by Black men.

The first two were front and center in the Hamburg massacre. In fact, as Heckel reflected a decade ago, “white Carolinians blamed the black militia for starting the riot, and Southern white newspapers created images of riotous blacks to contest black descriptions.”

Since the massacre, racial violence has had a long echo in the United States. And in many cases, the same justifications elucidated by Douglass remain.

Both the Tulsa race massacre and the 1955 murder of Emmett Till, for instance, were sparked by false accusations of sexual harassment or assault made against young Black men.

The violence persists today. In June 2015, just 150 miles (241 kilometers) from Hamburg, a white supremacist gunman entered the historically Black Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, and opened fire, killing nine churchgoers.

In May 2022, a white supremacist killed 10 Black Americans at the Tops Friendly Market in Buffalo, New York.

Both gunmen made multiple references to the same conspiracy theories Douglass identified, with the Charleston domestic terrorist going as far as to praise segregation as “a defensive measure” while criticizing the “historical lies, exaggerations and myths” of the historical record of slavery and its aftermath.

Still, there are key differences between the attacks at Charleston and Buffalo and their Reconstruction predecessors. The political violence that tainted the Reconstruction and post-Reconstruction era clashes with traditional definitions of terrorism, which typically targets a power structure that such violence seeks to upend.

Instead, attacks like the one in Hamburg, which sought to proactively protect the rights and power of white Americans – and which were often endorsed by state and local governments – have more in common with genocide and ethnic cleansing. Not only did the scale of the broader violence across the South indicate a campaign to mass-murder an ethnic subgroup for political purposes, but Tillman, perhaps the most infamous of the Hamburg murderers, never denied the attack’s goals.

“We are not sorry for it,” he would proudly recall before the U.S. Senate in 1900. “We of the south have never recognized the right of the negro to govern white men.”

‘A painful duty’

Attempting to commemorate all such anniversaries is an impossible task, simply because of the sheer volume. For example, September marks the 150th anniversary of the Ellenton Riot. In that massacre, Black South Carolinians were systematically hunted throughout their community over an alleged attack on a white elderly woman, which was later proved false. The death toll may have eclipsed 100.

Countless similar incidents have plagued U.S. history.

In my view, to tell the story of America’s founding without referencing these profound scars is akin to deceit, if not complicity. Civil rights leader and journalist Ida B. Wells put it this way in 1895: “It becomes a painful duty … to reproduce a record which shows that a large portion of the American people avow anarchy, condone murder and defy the contempt of civilization.”

Or, as a local retired pastor said of Hamburg commemorations, “We want to keep it burning so people won’t forget what transpired.”

Jacob Ware does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.