What Is the Black Panther?
The 1995 film, which has ignited a storm of conversation with its sumptuous, star‑studded soundtrack, looks undeniably cool—and yet much about this organization remains shrouded in mystery.
Preface for Panther
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“What we learned in school was never a definitive evaluation. Only afterward, through “edutainment” in society, did we come to learn the truth. The aspect of the Panthers that deserves the most attention is their experimental attempt to protect their community. They inherited Malcolm X’s will after his assassination. And, much like the Nation of Islam before them, they believed that the interests of the Black community would ultimately benefit the community itself. The philosophies of both organizations were remarkably close.” —Chuck D (from an archived interview, May 5, 1995)
In popular magazines and elsewhere, they’ve often been portrayed unfairly. So what are the truly “essential points”? This column aims to present those points by objectively tracing the history of the Black Panther Party. Of course, this is nothing more than an outline. Each incident and activity, and the surrounding contexts, deserve deeper consideration, but I hope this will serve as a useful entry point.
In the past decades, it seems clear that appreciation for the Panthers has grown among African Americans. Interestingly, many of the books on the Panthers have been written by women. Director Mario Van Peebles, whose father, Melvin Van Peebles, wrote the screenplay, released the film Panther in early May of 1995 in the United States’ major cities.
The movie dramatizes the story of the real‑life radical leftist organization known as the Black Panther Party (some may dispute calling it “leftist,” but let’s use the term here). Though grounded in historical fact, it does not adhere strictly to the true timeline. Alongside real figures like Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale, it introduces a fictional character named “Judge,” who appears to be the narrative’s protagonist. Judge—who returns from Vietnam and reluctantly joins the Party—finds himself drawn to Newton’s and Seale’s charisma but also threatened by FBI coercion, eventually being groomed as an informant. The story unfolds through his perspective.
Moreover, the film posits a fictional subplot in which the FBI colludes with drug trafficking organizations to infiltrate and undermine the Party. This narrative choice has drawn some critical pushback. Still, the film vividly captures the Panthers’ key points of experimental action.” In bookstores nationwide, you can already find several new volumes on the Panther legacy—one even authored by Bobby Seale’s mother—and in June of that same year, a novelization by Melvin Van Peebles himself will be published.
The Panther phenomenon was bubbling over with the film, the soundtrack, and the rap compilation Pump Ya Fist. The lineup of artists gathered for the soundtrack makes it impossible for music fans to ignore the Panther resurgence.
Early History of the Black Panther Party
1942: Huey P. Newton was born in Monroe, Louisiana, and was the youngest of seven children. At age 3, his family relocates to Oakland, California, into the city’s ghettos. His proud father works multiple jobs—including teaching—and his mother, a warm and humorous woman, raises him. Influenced by his parents and siblings, Newton early on wrestles with questions of “Who am I?” and feels constrained by social hierarchies—be they racial, economic, or institutional.
By his senior year of high school, Newton hadn’t read much beyond textbooks, though he enjoyed books and would scrawl notes from what his older brother left behind. When he enrolled at Oakland City College (later Merritt College), he was already deeply conscious of community self‑determination, though ideologically he remained in flux. Through discussions and collaborations on campus, his views gradually crystallized. He rejected abstract theorizing without practical application, and after exploring various ideologies—Castroism, Maoism, Guevarism—he settled on a Marxist analysis of domestic colonialism.
Despite his college life, Newton stayed connected to his home streets, spending evenings drinking, gambling, and sometimes fighting. Around that time, he discovered Malcolm X and became deeply influenced by his pragmatic, militant ideas. Though he associated with Muslim communities, he never converted; his Christian upbringing remained unchanged even after founding the Panthers.
On campus, there was a movement to establish a West Coast chapter of the Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM). Bobby Seale—an African American man born in Dallas in 1937, raised in Oakland, a U.S. Air Force veteran, and later Merritt student—sought to recruit Newton to the cause. Seale also performed as an actor and comedian, earning renown for his speaking.
Seale initially supported the NAACP’s moderate approach—including its endorsement of U.S. anti‑Cuba policy—which put him at odds with Newton. After pondering Newton’s arguments, however, Seale changed course. In 1965, after Newton served six months in solitary for a “conspiracy” charge, the two men’s bond deepened.
February 1965: Malcolm X is assassinated.
August 1965: Watts riots erupt in Los Angeles.
These events convinced Newton and Seale of the necessity of armed self‑defense. Judging that the consciousness of Black working‑class citizens had reached a boiling point, they began preparing to form a new organization. Their early meetings were purely theoretical—debates and reading groups—but attendance swelled, and discussions hosted at Seale’s home grew heated night after night.
They drew inspiration from Malcolm X’s vision of an Afro‑American Unity Organization, Frantz Fanon’s writings on oppression and violence, and Mao and Che Guevara’s revolutionary theories—particularly the idea that “the people are robbed at the muzzle of a gun.”
Legend has it that the Party’s name was chosen by chance. Newton spotted an article in a pamphlet about the Lowndes County Freedom Party in Alabama, a self‑armed Black voter registration movement. “We won’t shoot unless shot at—but when cornered, we’ll strike back,” Newton recalled thinking, and the name fit perfectly. Seale agreed, and though some mistakenly claim the Lowndes County group directly preceded the Panthers, Newton has clarified there was no formal link beyond the shared spirit.
Birth of the Black Panther Party
Newton and Seale defined the condition of Black people in the United States as “domestic colonialism”—not merely economic exploitation but also the denial of human dignity. Echoing Malcolm X, they aimed to overthrow domestic colonialism, U.S. imperialist capitalism, and institutional racism.
October 1966: Newton and Seale release the Black Panther Party’s Ten‑Point Program. Seale contributed ideas; Newton drafted the text. According to Greil Marcus’s Mystery Train, while they composed the draft, Bob Dylan’s “Ballad of a Thin Man” blared in the background—a fitting soundtrack for men who viewed the Vietnam War as an imperialist crime denying people the right to self‑determination.
The Ten‑Point Program comprises “what we want” and “why we believe we have a right”—the latter justifying the former. The key “what we want” demands were:
Freedom and autonomy for Black people.
Full employment.
An end to capitalist exploitation of Black communities.
Decent housing.
Education revealing the true nature of American society.
Exemption from military service.
An end to police brutality and murder of Black citizens.
Release of all Black prisoners and detainees.
Fair trials for Black defendants by judges and juries of their peers.
Land, bread, housing, education, clothing, justice, and peace.
Beyond the Ten Points, core Panther principles included:
A clearly articulated communism rooted in past Black liberation struggles.
The slogan “Power to the People”—not just Black people but all oppressed groups, including Chicanos, Native Americans, and the poor.
The right to bear arms within the law, with strict self‑imposed limits on violence.
Respect for women and rejection of male supremacy.
Rejection of cultural nationalism—colonial oppressors care little for appeals to culture or history alone.
Outreach across racial lines when goals aligned, even employing white radical lawyers.
An absolute ban on drugs; any member found using them was expelled.
Speeches delivered in everyday ghetto vernacular to connect with the community.
Perhaps most striking was the final point: a commitment to serve the community so intimately that it foreshadowed roles later assumed by politically conscious rappers. Combined with Chuck D’s comments, this community‑centered activism may be a key reason why the Panthers are being reappraised today. Yet their strong leftist stance also delayed mainstream recognition until after the Cold War’s end.
Community Patrols and Survival Programs
After drafting the program, Seale became Chairman and Newton Minister of Defense. Clad in black leather jackets and berets and carrying handbooks and firearms, Panthers patrolled ghettos to protect residents from police abuse. They would monitor routine stops, armed but instructed not to provoke, and sometimes publicly burn police records to shame officers.
Their imposing presence instilled pride and confidence in the community. This “force against force” approach was accompanied by “survival programs,” later dubbed “Revolutionary Intercommunalism Plans.” These included:
Free breakfast for children (Newton’s own experience showed kids couldn’t concentrate if hungry)
Free clothing distribution centers
Community schools
Free medical clinics
Housing initiatives
Prison reform and political education
Newton called these measures “life‑preservers”—emergency relief to raise people’s consciousness until true revolution. Director Mario Van Peebles’s film Panther highlights these grassroots efforts, emphasizing that the Panthers’ vision extended beyond militant confrontation to community uplift.
The “Lone Wolf” Joins
Around January 1967, Newton arranged for Seale to introduce him to Eldridge Cleaver at a local Oakland radio station. Cleaver—born in Little Rock, Arkansas, in 1935, raised in L.A. ghettos, incarcerated twice, who converted briefly to Islam and admired Malcolm X—had since become editor of the radical, anti‑war Ramparts magazine and author of Soul on Ice. Despite Newton never having read Cleaver’s writings before their meeting, the two men found immediate ideological kinship. Cleaver hesitated to join the Party that day but, after witnessing Panthers guard Malcolm X’s widow at a Bay Area rally that February, was so moved he declared his allegiance and was formally joined by spring.
The Party appointed him Minister of Information and tasked him with editing their newspaper, The Black Panther: Black Community News Service. Cleaver accepted eagerly but spent more time on personal writing and speeches—actions that later caused tensions within the Party.
Rapid Expansion and Repression
May 1967: To block the “Mulford Act,” which would restrict the Panthers’ legal right to bear arms, Seale led a delegation to Sacramento to deliver Newton’s manifesto condemning racial oppression. Their protest—broadcast nationwide—galvanized support, and within eight months, the Party swelled to thousands of members and a national organization.
Yet this rapid growth strained leadership, prompting overtures to the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), spearheaded by Stokely Carmichael and H. Rap Brown. Though verbal agreements were made, Carmichael ultimately balked, suspecting a takeover, and the alliance collapsed—something Newton later praised as fortunate, given Carmichael’s eventual turn toward Black nationalism.
Meanwhile, authorities ramped up pressure. In August 1967, Seale was jailed for six months over the Sacramento protest. He and Newton never met in the streets for the next four years.
October 28, 1967: Newton is shot and critically wounded by police during a routine traffic stop in Oakland. Hospitalized and handcuffed to his bed—photo spreads in newspapers exposed the brutality—he was charged with killing a cop. His five‑year legal battle became a cause célèbre under the slogan “Free Huey.” Newton was eventually acquitted at his third trial in 1970—a courtroom drama later dramatized in the film.
During Newton’s incarceration, Seale was released early but soon faced conspiracy charges in Chicago for anti‑war demonstrations at the Democratic National Convention, leading to the infamous “Chicago Eight” trial, where he was shackled and gagged in court. Convicted on lesser charges, he spent months in jail before appeals were won.
Assassinations and Fallout
January 1969: At UCLA, Party members Bunchie Huggins and Pun “Punchy” Carter are killed by members of the US organization led by Ron Karenga, a rival Black nationalist.
December 1969: In Chicago, Party Chairman Fred Hampton and member Mark Clark are shot dead in a police raid.
This campaign of targeted assassinations, mass arrests, and exorbitant bail demands decimated the Party’s leadership and ranks in 1968–69. Could the Panthers survive?
Newton’s Return & the Shift to Intercommunalism (1970)
When Newton’s “Free Huey” defense campaign culminated in his acquittal in September 1970, he stepped back into an organization ballooned to some 5,000 members nationwide—far beyond the small cadre he’d left behind in 1967. That sudden elevation of Huey to near‑mythic status created tensions: his old comrades now viewed him as both savior and specter, a hero who perhaps belonged on a pedestal rather than in democratic debate.
In response, Newton introduced “Intercommunalism,” a theory that reframed the Panthers’ struggle: rather than waging a purely Black nationalist fight within U.S. borders, he argued, oppressed communities worldwide were bound together by the same colonial and capitalist forces. His new vision called for solidarity across racial lines—even with white “lumpen proletarians”—to challenge global imperialism. This ideological pivot alienated some original members but signaled the Party’s ambition to think beyond Black Power toward a truly internationalist revolution.
COINTELPRO’s Final Push & Growing Paranoia
By 1971, the FBI’s COINTELPRO had already orchestrated over 233 discrete actions against the Panthers—surveillance, forged letters, instigated infighting—all to “expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, or otherwise neutralize” the organization. Following Newton’s return, COINTELPRO ratcheted up disinformation campaigns, pitting factions against one another. Rumors swirled about informants embedded at the highest levels. Leaders like Eldridge Cleaver, who’d been Minister of Information, grew distrustful of Newton’s motives and eventually split to form rival groups.
The Party’s leadership responded with heavier reliance on central command, cutting back open debate in local chapters. That rigidity played into the FBI’s hands: internal disagreements turned public, and membership began to fracture by the mid‑1970s.
Elaine Brown, Free Breakfast, & Community Programs
As Newton and Seale grappled with ideological schisms, Elaine Brown—the first and only woman to serve as Party Chairperson—took the helm in 1974. Under her leadership, the Panthers doubled down on survival programs: free breakfast for thousands of schoolchildren, liberation schools teaching Black history, and community medical clinics providing basic care. These initiatives weren’t mere charity; they were living embodiments of the Party’s Ten‑Point ideals, forging trust in neighborhoods long abandoned by official institutions.
Brown also worked to open local leadership to more women, challenging the macho image that critics had long pounced on. Though her tenure couldn’t reverse the Party’s decline—federal harassment and budget constraints made sustaining programs tough—her period in charge remains a testament to the Panthers’ enduring commitment to “serve the people.”
Fragmentation & the Party’s Demise (1977–1982)
By 1977, the Panthers had splintered into multiple factions. Newton’s return to “organizational power” that year marked another turning point: some veterans argue that his renewed dominance stifled the democratic structures that had once energized the movement. Membership rolls shrank; chapters closed.
Meanwhile, Eldridge Cleaver was exiled, Elaine Brown resigned, and the FBI’s relentless COINTELPRO operations—officially ended in 1971 but its tactics imitated by local police—continued to shadow the Panthers. By the early 1980s, only a handful of chapters remained active, and in 1982 the national organization formally disbanded.
Legacy & Lessons Forward
Though the Black Panther Party dissolved, its Ten‑Point Program lives on as a blueprint for community organizing and social justice. The emphasis on self‑defense, free community services, and intersectional solidarity foreshadowed later movements—from the Sanctuary Cities of the 1980s to today’s Black Lives Matter.
In revisiting this history—Newton’s radical re‑visioning in 1970, the community programs under Brown, the FBI’s sabotage, and the eventual fragmentation—we see a blueprint of both the power and peril of revolutionary movements. The Panthers teach us that visionary ideas must be paired with robust democratic structures to survive, or risk being undone from within and without.
Revival, Cultural Resonance, and Contemporary Relevance
When the Black Panther Party disbanded nationally in 1982, many assumed its flame had been extinguished. Yet the embers continued to glow in community centers, on protest lines, and in the creative expressions of a new generation. In this third installment, we’ll explore how Panther ideals survived—sometimes in fractured form, other times reborn entirely—and how their legacy pulses through music, art, and today’s movements.
I. Reclaiming the Ten‑Point Legacy
Even as local chapters faded, activists in Oakland, Los Angeles, and Chicago quietly kept survival programs alive—breakfast clubs, health clinics, and tutoring centers—often under different banners. In the late ’80s and ’90s, grassroots groups like the New Panther Vanguard Movement and the Black Riders Liberation Party explicitly adopted the original Ten‑Point Program as their blueprint, tweaking it for the crack‑era crises. By reasserting community self‑defense and mutual aid, these successors reminded a new generation that the Panthers were never just about guns or militancy, but about building self‑sufficient institutions where the state had failed.
II. Hip‑Hop’s Panther Pulse
As hip‑hop exploded from the Bronx to the globe, its artists turned to Panther imagery and rhetoric to frame their own calls for justice. Public Enemy’s Chuck D channeled the Party’s emphasis on self‑empowerment in songs like “Fight the Power,” while Tupac Shakur adopted the black beret and raised‑fist salute in videos and performances. Beyond surface homage, many rappers wove Panther‑style community critique into their lyrics—denouncing police violence, celebrating neighborhood solidarity, and urging listeners to “serve the people” in their own way. This musical lineage ensured that Panther concepts remained alive in pop culture, long after the original uniforms had been stored away.
III. Global Solidarity and Pan‑African Resonance
Newton’s vision of intercommunalism found fertile soil abroad. In the 1980s, South African anti‑apartheid activists and Caribbean Black Power groups invoked Panther strategies of armed self‑defense and community service. More recently, students in Paris, London, and Johannesburg have studied the Party’s survival programs as models for addressing local inequality. Online platforms and social media collectives now circulate Panther speeches, photos, and Ten‑Point memes, forging virtual solidarity networks that mirror those Oakland reading groups of the 1960s.
IV. Black Lives Matter: A New Pantherism?
When Black Lives Matter (we have thoughts on the organization) erupted in 2013, observers immediately noted echoes of 1960s Panther activism—decentralized leadership, street demonstrations, and an insistence on community care. BLM chapters have organized mutual‑aid drives, free medical clinics, and story‑circles for survivors of police violence, effectively reanimating Panther‑style survival programs without the strict hierarchy. Their use of modern tech—Twitter hashtags instead of carbon‑copy newsletters—demonstrates how Panther principles adapt to changing times. Just as the Party once harnessed radio waves and mimeographed pamphlets, today’s activists leverage livestreams and viral graphics to sustain the fight for justice.
V. The Road Ahead
The Black Panther Party’s journey—from Huey Newton and Bobby Seale’s basement debates to a global cultural phenomenon—teaches us that revolutionary ideas endure when they’re embedded in everyday life. Whether it’s a free breakfast table in Oakland, a protest anthem blasting from a car stereo, or a digital fundraiser for a community clinic, Panther ideals continue to inspire. As we face renewed struggles over policing, healthcare, and systemic racism, their Ten‑Point blueprint still offers a map: demand fundamental rights, build institutions of care, and forge solidarity across borders.
Panther
In 1995, Britain’s Blues & Soul magazine broke the story that a female counterpart to BMU (Black Men United—the all‑star male singers featured on the Jason’s Lyric soundtrack) was being assembled. That article announced that Dallas Austin would produce the project and went on, at some length, to name the truly electrifying roster of artists slated to participate.
Of course, BMU originally united Atlantic Records’ five marquee male vocalists—Arthur Conley, Ben E. King, Solomon Parks, Don Covay, and Joe Dexter—in the studio. As an unabashed fan of such supergroup ventures since Soul Clan, I was duly hyped by the prospect. Then came the lead single from the female BMU, “Freedom,” which—courtesy of Dallas Austin’s production—simply recycled the track bed from Joi’s original “Freedom.” Honestly, I was left speechless. Because of that, I couldn’t quite warm to the song at first, but the moment I saw the video clip, I was instantly revived. This truly is an all‑star affair: today’s generation of young women vocalists and groups make cameo after cameo. I’ll leave the rest as a surprise, but a few observations caught my eye.
Throughout the clip, we get frequent inserts of the artists recording together in the studio, and there’s one particularly intriguing shot: in the front row, almost center, sits Kathleen White; to her right is Aaliyah; then, for a few seconds midway through, Mary J. Blige appears to Aaliyah’s right—just the one brief moment. Of course, we see Mary stepping up to sing lead, but this lone extra glimpse of her is curious. The fact that it gives me pause suggests just how striking her presence must be. Later in the video, En Vogue displays an almost imperious command that genuinely surprised me—keep an eye out for that.
I’ve written at length about “Freedom,” but needless to say, this song is the soundtrack’s theme, entrusted with conveying the spirit of the film Panther. All the other tracks, likewise, coalesce around themes of Black self-awareness and empowerment. Thus, if you approach the album in a vacuum, you might find it demanding. I won’t draw firm conclusions, but the soundtrack seems deeply tethered to the film’s narrative. Ideally, you’d see the movie first to fully appreciate the album’s intent, though its glittering lineup can make one forget that.
Even taken on its own musical terms, the content is strong. First up is Blackstreet’s bold foray into gospel‑style grandeur on “We’ll Meet Again.” Teddy Riley’s vocoder flourishes are present but never overshadow the lead’s confident delivery. Next, Aaron Hall tackles an unusually expansive ballad—produced by Brian McKnight—with a commanding performance on “Stand (You Got To).” Guided by Female’s exquisite harmonies, Shanice takes on the classic “If I Were Your Woman” with care and dynamic flair.
Also noteworthy is Female herself, whose official Mercury debut effort shines on “Natural Woman.” She even joins Shaniesse in matching Gladys Knight’s intensity on “We Shall Not Be Moved.” Then there’s Monica and Usher duetting with fresh emotion on “Let’s Straighten It Out,” and Sounds of Blackness, featuring Black Sheep, offering a stirring take on “We Shall Not Be Moved.” On the rap side, Da Lench Mob’s hard‑hitting homage “The World Is a Ghetto” impresses, and the all‑star hip‑hop summit “The Points”—featuring everyone from Biggie Smalls to Bone Thugs‑n‑Harmony—hits like a manifesto. Even Tony! Toni! Toné! cover “Stand!” and Brian McKnight’s dignified “Star‑Spangled Banner” contribute to a uniformly high‑caliber vocal album.
Pump Ya Fist: Hip Hop Inspired by the Black Panthers
This project, also mentioned in our previous “Hip Hop Soundtrack Rush” feature, gathers hip‑hop tracks inspired by the Black Panther movement. Though released by a label different from the Panther soundtrack, Mario Van Peebles is once again credited as executive producer, and the album functions as a companion piece to the film. All tracks are newly recorded.
Rakim’s long‑awaited resurgence on “Shades of Black” marks his first solo work since “Heat Is Up” from the Gunmen soundtrack and reasserts his inimitable presence. Next is KRS‑One’s opening salvo: “Ah Yeah,” stripped down to a punishing beat and his enormous voice-no frills, just raw impact. Grand Puba delivers an uplifting groove on “Black Family Day,” while Jeru the Damaja’s searing indictment The Frustrated N!GGA” showcases Easy Mo Bee’s sharp production.
Kam, whose title cut “Pump Ya Fist” lends the album its name, brings urgent momentum, and 2Pac’s “Throw Your Hands Up” channels his signature blend of defiance and accessibility. Finally, Chuck D’s rallying cry “It’s the Pride” serves as a fitting capstone, affirming the enduring potency of political hip‑hop.