In the hills of Arkansas, an old hatred has put on a new suit. The organization once known as the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan now calls itself The Knights Party — a quieter name for an unchanged creed of racial exclusion. This cosmetic transformation unfolds against a measurable shift in American public opinion, where a third of adults now express sympathy with ideas that scholars classify as white supremacist. History reminds us that movements do not require mass membership to cause mass harm; they require only enough silence around them.
KKK Rebrands as 'Knights Party' Amid Rising White Supremacist Activity in US
No. Because this is a white nationalist church.
So Robb is trying to make the KKK sound less extreme by calling it The Knights Party and talking about family and faith. Is that actually working? Are people joining?
That's the interesting part. He won't say. When asked directly about membership numbers or whether support is actually growing, he just declined to answer. He admitted that people are hesitant to formally join, even if they might sympathize with the message.
Right, so we don't actually know if the rebranding is effective. We know he's doing it, we know he's softened the public presentation, but the claim that it's working—that's unsubstantiated. He wouldn't provide numbers.
What about the broader context? Is white supremacist sentiment actually rising, or is Robb just one guy trying to stay relevant?
The data suggests it's real. A 2025 survey found that 32 percent of American adults agreed with great replacement theory rhetoric—the idea that immigrants are invading and replacing white culture. That's nearly one in three people. And the Southern Poverty Law Center documents at least 152 active white supremacist groups in the country.
But here's the gap: we don't know if those survey respondents would ever join an organization like Robb's. Agreeing with a statement in a poll and actually becoming a card-carrying member of a hate group are very different things. The survey shows sentiment; it doesn't prove organizational growth.
What's Trump's role in all this? The article mentions him several times.
Critics argue he's normalized this rhetoric. He's used language about immigration being an "invasion," he's dined with white nationalist figures, and his administration has launched investigations into whether universities discriminate against white people. He's also given priority to white South Africans in refugee admissions, claiming they face genocide—which is false.
Those are fair criticisms, but we should be precise: Trump hasn't explicitly endorsed great replacement theory or joined a white supremacist organization. He's been accused of echoing the rhetoric and creating space for it. That's different from direct endorsement, and it matters for how readers understand causation.
Robb himself says the movement started before Trump, back in 2008 with Obama's election.
He does claim that. He says people started getting angry then, and his organization is a voice for that anger. But he's also operating in an environment where that anger has found more mainstream expression.
Again, we should note: Robb's claim about when the movement started is his interpretation. We can report what he said, but we can't verify it as fact. The Southern Poverty Law Center data shows a rising trend over the past decade, which would encompass both the Obama and Trump eras.
Il Polso
- A KKK faction has rebranded with a softer name and mail-in membership to lower the barrier of entry, while its leader openly refuses entry to Black Americans and dismisses Muslim-American politicians as non-American regardless of birthplace.
- A 2025 national survey found 32% of US adults agree that immigrants are 'invading' and 'replacing' the country's ethnic makeup — a dramatic mainstreaming of what researchers identify as the great replacement conspiracy theory.
- Experts and civil rights organizations link this normalization directly to political rhetoric from the highest levels of government, including language framing immigration as invasion and the elevation of white grievance as a policy priority.
- Despite the ideological momentum, formal recruitment remains stalled — even the group's own leader admits people are 'hesitant to cross' the line into membership, revealing a gap between ambient sympathy and organized commitment.
- The Southern Poverty Law Center counts 152 or more active white supremacist groups in the US, and public demonstrations like the Patriot Front's Washington march signal that organizational infrastructure is growing regardless of membership hesitancy.
In the hills of Arkansas, an old hatred has put on a new suit. The organization once known as the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan now calls itself The Knights Party — a quieter name for an unchanged creed of racial exclusion. This cosmetic transformation unfolds against a measurable shift in American public opinion, where a third of adults now express sympathy with ideas that scholars classify as white supremacist. History reminds us that movements do not require mass membership to cause mass harm; they require only enough silence around them.
In Boone County, Arkansas, Thomas Robb leads what was once called the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan — now rebranded as The Knights Party. The name is softer. The ideology is not. When asked whether a Black person would be welcome at the group's church, Robb answered without hesitation: no. This is, he explained, a white nationalist church.
Robb has spent decades trying to make the organization more recruitable. He dropped the title 'grand wizard,' allowed members to join by mail in confidence, and distanced the group's public face from its history of violence. Yet when pressed on whether American-born Muslim politicians are truly American, he was unmoved by facts of birth. Only white people, he argued, can be genuinely American.
This persistence is not happening in a vacuum. A 2025 survey of more than 20,000 Americans found that nearly one in three agreed with the statement that immigrants are invading and replacing the country's cultural and ethnic background — the core claim of great replacement theory, a conspiracy narrative researchers have long documented as false but growing in reach.
Experts connect this shift to the normalization of such rhetoric in mainstream politics. President Trump has used invasion language around immigration, dined with a prominent Holocaust denier, and described 'fine people on both sides' after white nationalists clashed violently with counterprotesters in Charlottesville. His administration has also launched investigations into alleged discrimination against white people and prioritized white South African refugees based on a claim of genocide that fact-checkers have rejected.
Robb traces the movement's momentum not to Trump but to the 2008 election of Barack Obama, which he describes as the moment Americans 'began to stir.' Yet he is candid about his limits. He cannot cite membership numbers or offer evidence of growth, and he acknowledges that many sympathizers stop short of formally joining. 'Maybe everybody hates us,' he said. 'I don't know.'
The Southern Poverty Law Center counts at least 152 active white supremacist organizations in the United States. The KKK itself dates to 1865, born from violent resistance to post-Civil War civil rights expansion. Lynchings, targeted terror, and the entrenchment of racial hierarchy are part of its documented record. Robb's rebranding has changed none of that. The name is new. Everything else remains.
In Boone County, Arkansas, Thomas Robb sits at the head of what used to be called the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. These days, he prefers a simpler name: The Knights Party. The rebranding is deliberate. When a correspondent asked whether a Black person would be welcome at the group's church, Robb's answer was unambiguous. "No," he said. "Because this is a white nationalist church." The contradiction—a softer name, a harder ideology—captures something essential about how white supremacist organizing is evolving in the United States in the mid-2020s.
Robb took over leadership of the faction in 1989 and has spent decades attempting to make the organization more palatable to potential recruits. He dropped the title "grand wizard" in favor of "national director." He allowed new members to join by mail, keeping their participation confidential. He launched public outreach campaigns that distanced the group from its history of violence. Yet the core philosophy remained unchanged. When asked about two Muslim politicians—Zohran Mamdani and Abdul El-Sayed—Robb dismissed them as non-American. When the correspondent pointed out that El-Sayed was born in Michigan, Robb was unmoved. "I don't care where he's born. He's not American," he said. Only the children of white immigrants, he explained, could truly be American, "because they're white."
This organizational persistence occurs against a backdrop of documented growth in white supremacist sentiment across the country. A 2025 survey conducted by the Public Religion Research Institute asked more than 20,000 American adults whether they agreed with a single statement: "Immigrants are invading our country and replacing our cultural and ethnic background." Thirty-two percent agreed—nearly one in three. That figure reflects the reach of what researchers call great replacement theory, a conspiracy narrative claiming that immigrants, Jews, and nonwhite groups are deliberately working to displace white people in Western nations. The theory is false, but its grip on American discourse has widened considerably.
Experts have spent the past decade warning of a resurgence in white supremacy, and many point to the normalization of such rhetoric in mainstream political spaces. President Donald Trump has been accused of amplifying these views through language that frames immigration as an "invasion" and "an assault on Western countries." In 2022, Trump dined with Nick Fuentes, a prominent Holocaust denier and white nationalist figure. When white nationalists clashed violently with counterprotesters in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 2017, Trump said there were "fine people on both sides." More recently, Trump told The New York Times that "white people were very badly treated" in academia, and his administration has launched investigations into whether universities and companies discriminate against white people. He has also prioritized white South Africans in refugee admissions, falsely claiming they face "genocide."
Robb himself attributes the rise in white nationalist sentiment to forces predating Trump, pointing to the 2008 election of Barack Obama as the moment when "people are beginning to stir and being angered by what they see happening to the country." He frames his organization as a voice for that anger. Yet he is candid about the limits of his reach. When asked about membership numbers or evidence that support for his movement is growing, he declined to provide either. "As for people actually to become members, that's kind of a line they are a little hesitant to cross sometimes," he acknowledged. "Maybe we're wrong. Maybe everybody hates us. I don't know."
The Southern Poverty Law Center estimates that at least 152 white supremacist organizations are currently active in the United States, a figure that reflects what the center describes as a rising trend over the past decade. Just this year, another group called the Patriot Front marched through Washington, DC, during Independence Day celebrations. The KKK itself carries a history that stretches back to 1865, when it emerged in the aftermath of the Civil War as a violent response to efforts to expand civil rights to Black people and other minorities. Through lynchings and targeted violence, the organization worked to prevent nonwhite participation in government and entrench racial hierarchies. That history has not been erased by Robb's rebranding efforts or his softer public messaging. The ideology remains. The exclusion remains. Only the name has changed.
Citazioni salienti
People are beginning to stir and being angered by what they see happening to the country. So we're kind of a voice for that.— Thomas Robb, on the rise in white nationalist sentiment
As for people actually to become members, that's kind of a line they are a little hesitant to cross sometimes.— Thomas Robb, acknowledging reluctance to formally join white supremacist groups