What I knew about the Black Panther Party before reading this could have fit onto a dry-cleaning ticket with room to spare, amounting pretty much to that one scene in Forrest Gump when Forrest goes to Washington, DC. I knew the names Huey Newton and Stokely Carmichael and Eldridge Cleaver, but couldn’t have said much about who they were or what they did. And because the extent of my knowledge was limited to the stereotypes and caricatures offered up by popular culture, my impression of the Black Panthers was of a violent, radical political organization that met white-on-black racism with black-on-white racism while wearing berets. It’s not so surprising, then, that my culturally skewed impression was almost entirely wrong. Bobby Seale, the Party’s co-founder, offers in Seize the Time an oral history of the Party’s origins, which becomes a revisionary history of the Party’s distorted public perception, which is also a hagiography of Huey Newton, the Party’s other co-founder, which, at the same time, is an articulation of the Party’s principles. By trying to be so many things at once, the book often reads as unfocused, while it also often reads as the (near-verbatim) transcripts of audio recordings that it is. I found the narrative disorganization to be frustrating – Seale offers definitions for important terms four hundred pages too late, he provides context for events after describing the events themselves, he expounds on the Party’s political ideology at the very end instead of at the beginning – and the prose to be sophomoric. As an aesthetic object, this book is lousy. But then to judge this book solely on its aesthetic merits would to willfully ignore Seale’s plangent message: organize or die. It was this message that drove me to finish Seize the Time, because even though I think the book is terrible, I think it’s great. The reason we’re still reading and talking about the Black Panthers has less to do with the cool hats they wore, and more to do with their simple, but profoundly radical position, that black people were not required to remain obsequious and genuflect and show deference to the exponents of the system’s authority. At a time when conspiracy theories seemed reasonable, at a time when revolutionary change seemed possible, the Black Panthers recognized the “power structure” for what it was (and is): a culture of overlapping institutions of government and law-enforcement established to maintain the status quo. And since the status quo is invested in holding onto power, it’s inherently classist and racist and sexist. The Black Panthers were anathema to this power structure, and saw the police as their most immediate enemy since the police were the physical manifestation of the system’s power. As Seale describes it, blacks were coerced into obeying the whims of the pigs because the pigs had guns and didn’t hesitate to shoot them, so if blacks were to actually obtain their rights as citizens they too must carry guns and effectively become both their own power structure and enforcement all in one. Predictably, once the pigs saw black guys walking around the streets with shotguns and M-1 rifles in their hands, they freaked out. It’s this conflict that is the most important part of the book and of the Black Panther Party’s history, so important that I wish Seale was better equipped to express it. Calling cops “fascist pigs” to their faces wasn’t the problem, and openly carrying guns wasn’t the problem either. Those things got the Panthers a lot of attention and allowed the power structure to paint them as unhinged radicals. But the conflict between the Panthers and police represented something much larger: the confrontation of the people with established power. As Seale himself urges his readers to understand, the Panthers weren’t really combatting racism – it only looked that way – they were actually combatting the class oppression that make things like racism and poverty and crime prevalent. Even though the Panthers were suspicious of intellectuals and paper radicals and experimental art – because it “did nothing” – their Party’s ideology was deeply invested in leftist political theory and philosophy, which makes their ultimate failure that much more tragic. The story Seale tells ends in 1970 after a long description of a trial in Chicago where he was actually bound and gagged in court for demanding his right to representation, illustrating perfectly the Panthers’ blind spot as well as the significance of their principles. What Seale shows – in his retelling of the trial, in his description of his everyday experiences – is that alter subjects are inherently extra-legal subjects. The Black Panthers relied on the law to thwart the power structure they knew was corrupt and was perpetuated by the overt oppression of the populace. Yet once they entered (and re-entered (and re-re-entered)) the legal system after getting arrested for trumped-up charges, they found to be true what they knew all along, that the legal system worked to enforce the hegemony of the status quo, and so even though they followed the letter of the law they were still found guilty and imprisoned. Seize the Time is badly written, conveys the Party leadership in a suspiciously positive light, and contains a timely lesson. Be prepared to work for it.