As President Donald Trump and his administration tackle recent leftist violence, it serves as a reminder of the repercussions when those who commit political crimes slip through the cracks of justice.
Joanne Chesimard, widely known as Assata Shakur, evaded the law for years. She died on Thursday at 78, living the last years of her life in Cuba’s authoritarian regime. This also highlights how extremism finds refuge even within American academia.
A professor hailed her as one of the “African American heroes,” portraying her as a beacon of behaviorism.
Mona Hicks, a dean at Stanford University, quoted Shakur’s work in a campus email during the George Floyd protests, sharing lines like, “It is our duty to fight for our freedom. It is our duty to win. We have nothing to lose other than chains.”
But let’s be clear—when Shakur spoke of “fighting,” it was no peaceful protest; it was a call to violence.
She wasn’t merely an activist; her role in the Black Liberation Army made her a terrorist according to many. In the 1970s, their version of revolution involved bank robberies, bombings, and killing law enforcement officers.
By the time she and her fellow members were apprehended in New Jersey in 1973, Shakur had already gone on the run.
During an encounter with law enforcement, her actions resulted in the death of Officer Werner Forster and wounding of another. Shakur was shot multiple times, and one accomplice also lost their life during the exchange.
Although she was taken into custody, she quickly became a cause célèbre among Progressives, who labeled her a political prisoner. By 1979, Shakur had escaped from prison with help from a group linked to the BLA.
Asylum was granted to her by Fidel Castro’s regime, which consistently ignored U.S. requests for her extradition to face charges.
While she may be gone, her example lingers. It’s not just the professors and university staff celebrating her violent legacy.
The Chicago Teachers Union recently acknowledged her passing, describing her on the social media platform X as “a revolutionary fighter, a fierce writer, and a respected elder of black liberation.”
This was a person who cavalierly justified her group’s armed robbery as an “expropriation” stemming from class struggle and deemed killings of police officers as part of an “armed struggle.”
Shakur wasn’t the only figure from her era who evaded consequences; many left an indelible mark on society without facing much scrutiny. Take Angela Davis, who was related to a judge’s murder, yet now holds the title of “Professor Emerita” at the University of California, Santa Cruz.
Bill Ayers, who helped found the Weather Underground terrorist group, now enjoys retirement as an esteemed professor at the University of Illinois. In the ‘90s, he collaborated with a budding community organizer named Barack Obama.
Those who embraced violent politics in the ’60s and ’70s often faced minimal repercussions. Instead, they became figures shaping the ideology of future generations.
Currently, America seems to be dealing with a new wave of extremists, particularly among students, who are increasingly supportive of violence.
This time, universities and the government need to take a different stance. There should be zero tolerance for political violence.
Those who engage in harassment or violence, even against speakers on campuses, need to face severe legal repercussions.
And individuals who glorify radical violence shouldn’t simply get a pass.
After all, it’s crucial to think of the future generations.
While the First Amendment protects the right to idolize figures like Assata Shakur, Americans have the power to decide where their resources, including taxes and employment, go.
Choosing not to support the likes of Shakur, Davis, or Ayers is essential.
