Nikole Hannah-Jones, a prominent figure in journalism and education, continues to attract attention for her unorthodox views on reporting and history. Her latest piece in the New York Times hails Assata Shakur, a convicted cop-killer from the 1960s, a move sure to spark controversy. Hannah-Jones previously garnered both acclaim and scorn for the 1619 Project, which argued that slavery was central to America’s founding—a claim that has faced wide criticism from historians. Yet despite historical inaccuracies, her work has received accolades, including the prestigious Pulitzer Prize.
This month, Hannah-Jones returns to the spotlight, praising Shakur in a column that seems more like a eulogy than objective analysis. She paints a picture of Shakur as a victim rather than a criminal, overlooking the chilling details of her past. Shakur, born JoAnne Deborah Byron and also known by other aliases, has a history of violence. She was involved in the killing of New Jersey police officer Werner Foerster during a 1973 shootout, a crime that ripped apart the lives of Foerster’s widow and young son.
Hannah-Jones’s narratives often seem to prioritize a certain ideology over facts. In her recent column, she refers to Shakur’s conviction by an “all-white” jury, omitting the complexity of Shakur’s long criminal record. Shakur had been implicated in several felonies, yet Hannah-Jones appears untroubled by these details, illustrating a tendency to reshape history to fit a more palatable narrative.
The term “Underground Railroad” is invoked when discussing Shakur’s escape from justice, an analogy that raises eyebrows given the context. The true victims of Shakur’s actions, particularly Foerster, are left nameless and forgotten. Instead of reflecting on the costs of Shakur’s actions on her victims, the Times column appears to celebrate her freedom, stating that “Shakur, who saw herself as an escaped slave, died free.” Such a declaration is deeply troubling, especially for those who bore the brunt of Shakur’s violence.
Hannah-Jones has frequently positioned herself as an activist in the guise of a journalist, a stance she has openly embraced with statements like, “all journalism is activism.” The current praise of a figure like Shakur, framed as a freedom fighter, creates a dissonance with the understanding of justice and accountability. She has faced criticism for the way she handles contentious topics, chastising those who report on crime from a perspective that could bolster the “carceral state.” This ideological lens leads to a troubling form of selective storytelling.
The New York Times has previously silenced voices like Senator Tom Cotton’s for advocating a strong response to unrest, yet it allows Hannah-Jones to promulgate a vision of history that evokes sympathy for a recognized terrorist. This inconsistency leaves readers questioning the integrity of the paper’s editorial direction. The presentation of Shakur’s life as a struggle against oppression, without acknowledging her violent actions and the people harmed along the way, reflects a broader trend within some media to prioritize narrative over truth.
As the column closes, the message is stark: a wanted terrorist, involved in murder and violence, is granted a kind of moral victory in death. The lack of acknowledgment for the lives affected by Shakur’s actions speaks volumes. In a society that values justice, these omissions force many to confront uncomfortable aspects of historical narrative and the repercussions of journalistic choices. The legacy of figures like Foerster deserves remembrance, overshadowed as it is by the romanticized version of Shakur’s story crafted by Hannah-Jones. Journalism, in its essence, should strive for balance and truth, especially when it grapples with the complex legacies of history.
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