[Congressional Record Volume 165, Number 61 (Tuesday, April 9, 2019)]
[Senate]
[Pages S2308-S2313]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Letter from Birmingham Jail
Mr. JONES. Madam President, I rise today to honor a great American,
an American whose words lit a flame of hope in the hearts of those
souls who had become weary with the weight of injustice, an American
whose struggles, ideals--and, yes, his dreams--are etched in the
foundation of our Nation.
On April 12, 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was arrested in my
hometown of Birmingham, AL. His crime? Leading a peaceful march to
protest the indignity suffered by the Black community in the Jim Crow
era. He had violated Birmingham public safety commissioner ``Bull''
Connor's ban on public demonstrations, which targeted the growing
resistance of African Americans to the injustices they were suffering.
While in solitary confinement in Birmingham, Dr. King wrote what
became known as the ``Letter from Birmingham Jail''--a stinging
response to a group of White clergy in Alabama who had denounced his
tactics and questioned the wisdom and timing of his arrival in
Birmingham.
They insisted that he was an outside agitator coming to Alabama to
instigate trouble. Dr. King responded famously: ``Injustice anywhere is
a threat to justice everywhere.''
In his letter, he rejected the idea that African Americans should be
more patient for change in the face of the daily indignities inflicted
by segregation and in the face of violence and threats and
intimidation. He wrote: ``There comes a time when the cup of endurance
runs over.''
While I did not experience this struggle as a young child--a young
White child growing up in the nearby Birmingham suburb--I spent much of
my adult life and career as a lawyer and former U.S. attorney examining
the history and absorbing its lessons. I have often returned to Dr.
King's letter to understand the forces at play at the height of the
civil rights struggle. Each time I read his words, I am in awe of his
courage and resolve in the face of such incredible personal risk.
While we have come so far and while we have made great progress in
loosening the binds of racial injustice that have constrained and
suffocated our Nation for so many years, we have not yet fully relieved
the weight of our country's abominable history of slavery, segregation,
and racial discrimination.
That is why I rise today. It is our civic duty and I believe our
moral obligation to remember Dr. King's words and his deeds, to tell
his story, to appreciate that 1963 was not all that long ago, and to
reflect on how many things have changed and how many have not. Our
obligation is to honor Dr. King's
[[Page S2309]]
legacy by joining him in envisioning the mountaintop and working to
make real his famous dream that our Nation will rise up and live out
the true meaning of the creed: ``We hold these truths to be self-
evident, that all men are created equal.'' That is why we rise today.
Dr. King saw an America that had the potential to live up to its
lofty ideals, where every man, woman, and child had an equal
opportunity to succeed and to live a life free from discrimination. He
saw the good in our country when it would have been easier for him to
see the bad. It is that positive spirit and clarity of vision that made
his legacy so enduring.
Today, we will honor that legacy by reading the letter from the
Birmingham jail in its entirety in the Senate Chamber.
I am honored to be joined today by Martin Luther King III, who is in
the Gallery--the oldest son of Dr. King and Coretta Scott King--as well
as my old friend Charles Steele, the president of the Southern
Christian Leadership Conference and a reverend. Together, they are at
the forefront of the modern civil rights movement and personally carry
on the legacy that Dr. King bequeathed us.
I am also very grateful that several of my colleagues on both sides
of the political aisle will stand with me to read portions of the
letter today. I want to thank Senators Lamar Alexander of Tennessee,
Ted Cruz of Texas, Kamala Harris of California, Tim Kaine of Virginia,
and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska for participating in this historic reading
today.
I urge the rest of our colleagues, anyone in the Gallery, and anyone
watching at home on television to consider what we might still learn
today from this powerful message about justice and freedom from
oppression and the indifference of people who stand idly by when their
fellow Americans are persecuted.
To begin the reading of the letter, I would like to yield to my
colleague from Tennessee, my friend Senator Alexander.
The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Tennessee.
Mr. ALEXANDER. Madam President, I thank the Senator from Alabama for
including me today in the reading of Dr. King's letter from the
Birmingham jail.
Senator Jones has standing to do this not just because he is from
Alabama but because of his work as a U.S. attorney prosecuting Klansmen
who blew up a church on 16th Street in Birmingham, killing children.
Senator Jones said that all of this was not too long ago. It was not
too long ago for me. I remember a day--on August 28, 1963. I was a
student at that time at New York University School of Law with an
internship in the U.S. Department of Justice. It was a hot summer day,
and the streets were filled with the March on Washington. It was about
lunchtime, I believe, that I went outside into that crowd, and I heard
a booming voice from a man who was standing on the steps of the Lincoln
Memorial. I heard the words that he hoped his four little children one
day would ``live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color
of their skin.'' I am not sure, at that time and at that age, that I
understood fully what I was seeing and hearing, but I was hearing Dr.
King's ``I Have a Dream'' speech.
In 1962, a year earlier, I was a senior at Vanderbilt University in
Nashville. It was not that long ago, but a lot has changed since then.
Vanderbilt, a prestigious institution, just in that year was
desegregating its undergraduate school. I was a part of that effort.
But even then, Black Americans couldn't go to the same restaurants,
stay at the same motels, or go to the same bathrooms--even then, and it
was not that long ago.
Four months before I heard Dr. King speak in August of 1963, he wrote
a letter from the Birmingham jail on the 16th of April, 1963. This was
Dr. King's letter:
My Dear Fellow Clergymen:
While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came
across your recent statement calling my present activities
``unwise and untimely.''
Dr. King's letter went on to say:
I think I should indicate why I am here in Birmingham,
since you have been influenced by the view which argues
against ``outsiders coming in.'' I have the honor of serving
as president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference,
an organization operating in every southern state, with
headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. We have some eighty five
affiliated organizations across the South, and one of them is
the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights. Frequently
we share staff, educational and financial resources with our
affiliates. Several months ago the affiliate here in
Birmingham asked us to be on call to engage in a nonviolent
direct action program if such were deemed necessary. We
readily consented, and when the hour came we lived up to our
promise. So I, along with several members of my staff, am
here because I was invited here. I am here because I have
organizational ties here.
But more basically, I am in Birmingham because injustice is
here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left
their villages and carried their ``thus saith the Lord'' far
beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the
Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the
gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco Roman
world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom
beyond my own home town. Like Paul, I must constantly respond
to the Macedonian call for aid.
Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all
communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and
not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice
anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in
an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment
of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all
indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the
narrow, provincial ``outside agitator'' idea. Anyone who
lives inside the United States can never be considered an
outsider anywhere within its bounds.
You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham.
But your statement, I am sorry to say, fails to express a
similar concern for the conditions that brought about the
demonstrations. I am sure that none of you would want to rest
content with the superficial kind of social analysis that
deals merely with effects and does not grapple with
underlying causes. It is unfortunate that demonstrations are
taking place in Birmingham, but it is even more unfortunate
that the city's white power structure left the Negro
community with no alternative.
In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps:
collection of the facts to determine whether injustices
exist; negotiation; self purification; and direct action. We
have gone through all these steps in Birmingham. There can be
no gainsaying the fact that racial injustice engulfs this
community. Birmingham is probably the most thoroughly
segregated city in the United States. Its ugly record of
brutality is widely known. Negroes have experienced grossly
unjust treatment in the courts. There have been more unsolved
bombings of Negro homes and churches in Birmingham than in
any other city in the nation. These are the hard, brutal
facts of the case. On the basis of these conditions, Negro
leaders sought to negotiate with the city fathers. But the
latter consistently refused to engage in good faith
negotiation.
Dr. King's letter continues:
Then, last September, came the opportunity to talk with
leaders of Birmingham's economic community. In the course of
the negotiations, certain promises were made by the
merchants--for example, to remove the stores' humiliating
racial signs. On the basis of these promises, the Reverend
Fred Shuttlesworth and the leaders of the Alabama Christian
Movement for Human Rights agreed to a moratorium on all
demonstrations. As the weeks and months went by, we realized
that we were the victims of a broken promise. A few signs,
briefly removed, returned; the others remained. As the weeks
and months went by, we realized that we were the victims
of a broken promise. A few signs, briefly removed,
returned; the others remained. As in so many past
experiences, our hopes had been blasted, and the shadow of
deep disappointment settled upon us. We had no alternative
except to prepare for direct action, whereby we would
present our very bodies as a means of laying our case
before the conscience of the local and the national
community. Mindful of the difficulties involved, we
decided to undertake a process of self purification. We
began a series of workshops on nonviolence, and we
repeatedly asked ourselves: ``Are you able to accept blows
without retaliating?'' ``Are you able to endure the ordeal
of jail?''
Dr. King's letter continues:
We decided to schedule our direct action program for the
Easter season, realizing that except for Christmas, this is
the main shopping period of the year. Knowing that a strong
economic-withdrawal program would be the by product of direct
action, we felt that this would be the best time to bring
pressure to bear on the merchants for the needed change.
Then it occurred to us that Birmingham's mayoral election
was coming up in March, and we speedily decided to postpone
action until after election day. When we discovered that the
Commissioner of Public Safety, Eugene ``Bull'' Connor, had
piled up enough votes to be in the run off, we decided again
to postpone action until the day after the run off so that
the demonstrations could not be used to cloud the issues.
Dr. King continued:
Like many others, we waited to see Mr. Connor defeated, and
to this end we endured postponement after postponement.
Having
[[Page S2310]]
aided in this community need, we felt that our direct action
program could be delayed no longer.
Madam President, I yield the floor to the Senator from California,
Ms. Harris.
Ms. HARRIS. I thank the Senator from Tennessee.
Dr. King continues:
You may well ask: ``Why direct action? Why sit ins, marches
and so forth? Isn't negotiation a better path?'' You are
quite right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the
very purpose of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks
to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a
community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced
to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue
that it can no longer be ignored. My citing the creation of
tension as part of the work of the nonviolent resister may
sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not
afraid of the word ``tension.'' I have earnestly opposed
violent tension, but there is a type of constructive,
nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth. Just as
Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in
the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of
myths and half truths to the unfettered realm of creative
analysis and objective appraisal, so must we see the need for
nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society
that will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and
racism to the majestic heights of understanding and
brotherhood. The purpose of our direct action program is to
create a situation so crisis packed that it will inevitably
open the door to negotiation. I therefore concur with you in
your call for negotiation. Too long has our beloved Southland
been bogged down in a tragic effort to live in monologue
rather than dialogue.
One of the basic points in your statement is that the
action that I and my associates have taken in Birmingham is
untimely. Some have asked: ``Why didn't you give the new city
administration time to act?'' The only answer that I can give
to this query is that the new Birmingham administration must
be prodded about as much as the outgoing one, before it will
act. We are sadly mistaken if we feel that the election of
Albert Boutwell as mayor will bring the millennium to
Birmingham. While Mr. Boutwell is a much more gentle person
than Mr. Connor, they are both segregationists, dedicated to
maintenance of the status quo. I have hope that Mr. Boutwell
will be reasonable enough to see the futility of massive
resistance to desegregation. But he will not see this without
pressure from devotees of civil rights. My friends, I must
say to you that we have not made a single gain in civil
rights without determined legal and nonviolent pressure.
Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups
seldom give up their privileges voluntarily. Individuals may
see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust
posture; but, as Reinhold Niebuhr has reminded us, groups
tend to be more immoral than individuals.
We know through painful experience that freedom is never
voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by
the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct
action campaign that was ``well timed'' in the view of those
who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation.
For years now I have heard the word ``Wait!'' It rings in the
ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This
``Wait'' has almost always meant ``Never.'' We must come
to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that
``justice too long delayed is justice denied.''
We have waited for more than 340 years for our
constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and
Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political
independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace
toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it
is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of
segregation to say, ``Wait.'' But when you have seen vicious
mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your
sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled
policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and
sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty
million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of
poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you
suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering
as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she
can't go to the public amusement park that has just been
advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her
eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored
children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to
form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to
distort her personality by developing an unconscious
bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an
answer for a five year old son who is asking: ``Daddy, why do
white people treat colored people so mean?''; when you take a
cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after
night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because
no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and
day out by nagging signs reading ``white'' and ``colored'';
when your first name becomes ``nigger,'' your middle name
becomes ``boy'' (however old you are) and your last name
becomes ``John,'' and your wife and mother are never given
the respected title ``Mrs.''; when you are harried by day and
haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living
constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to
expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer
resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating
sense of ``nobodiness''--then you will understand why [I]
find it difficult to wait.
I would now like to yield to my colleague Senator Cruz from Texas.
The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Texas.
Mr. CRUZ. Madam President, Dr. King's profoundly just and moral
letter from the Birmingham jail continued:
There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and
men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of
despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and
unavoidable impatience. You express a great deal of anxiety
over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a
legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to
obey the Supreme Court's decision of 1954 outlawing
segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may
seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One
may well ask: ``How can you advocate breaking some laws and
obeying others?'' The answer lies in the fact that there are
two types of laws: Just and unjust. I would be the first to
advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a
moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a
moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree
with St. Augustine that ``an unjust law is no law at all.''
Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one
determine whether a law is just or unjust? A just law is a
man made code that squares with the moral law or the law of
God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the
moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: An
unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal law
and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is
just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All
segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts
the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator
a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense
of inferiority. Segregation, to use the terminology of the
Jewish philosopher Martin Buber, substitutes an ``I it''
relationship for an ``I thou'' relationship and ends up
relegating persons to the status of things. Hence segregation
is not only politically, economically and sociologically
unsound, it is morally wrong and sinful. Paul Tillich has
said that sin is separation. Is not segregation an
existential expression of man's tragic separation, his awful
estrangement, his terrible sinfulness? Thus it is that I can
urge men to obey the 1954 decision of the Supreme Court, for
it is morally right; and I can urge them to disobey
segregation ordinances, for they are morally wrong.
Let us consider a more concrete example of just and unjust
laws. An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power
majority group compels a minority group to obey but does not
make binding on itself. This is difference made legal. By the
same token, a just law is a [law] that a majority compels
a minority to follow and that it is willing to follow
itself. This is sameness made legal. Let me give another
explanation. A law is unjust if it is inflicted on a
minority that, as a result of being denied the right to
vote, had no part in enacting or devising the law. Who can
say that the legislature of Alabama which set up that
state's segregation laws was democratically elected?
Throughout Alabama all sorts of devious methods are used
to prevent Negroes from becoming registered voters, and
there are some counties in which, even though Negroes
constitute a majority of the population, not a single
Negro is registered. Can any law enacted under such
circumstances be considered democratically structured?
Sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its
application. For instance, I have been arrested on a charge
of parading without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong in
having an ordinance which requires a permit for a parade. But
such an ordinance becomes unjust when it is used to maintain
segregation and to deny citizens the First Amendment
privilege of peaceful assembly and protest.
I hope you are able to see the distinction I am trying to
point out. In no sense do I advocate evading or defying the
law, as would the rabid segregationist. That would lead to
anarchy. One who breaks an unjust law must do so openly,
lovingly, and with a willingness to accept the penalty. I
submit that an individual who breaks the law that conscience
tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of
imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the
community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the
highest respect for law.
Of course, there is nothing new about this kind of civil
disobedience. It was evidenced sublimely in the refusal of
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to obey the laws of
Nebuchadnezzar, on the ground that a higher moral law was at
stake. It was practiced superbly by the early Christians, who
were willing to face hungry lions and the excruciating pain
of chopping blocks rather than submit to certain unjust laws
of the Roman Empire. To a degree, academic freedom is a
reality today because Socrates practiced civil disobedience.
In our own nation, the Boston Tea Party represented a massive
act of civil disobedience.
We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in
Germany was ``legal'' and
[[Page S2311]]
everything that the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary
was ``illegal.'' It was ``illegal'' to aid and comfort a Jew
in Hitler's Germany. Even so, I am sure that, had I lived in
Germany at the time, I would have aided and comforted my
Jewish brothers. If today I lived in a Communist country
where certain principles dear to the Christian faith are
suppressed, I would openly advocate disobeying that country's
antireligious laws.
I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and
Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few
years I have been gravely disappointed with the white
moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion
that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward
freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux
Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to
``order'' than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which
is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the
presence of justice; who constantly says: ``I agree with you
in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of
direct action''; who paternalistically believes he can set
the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a
mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro
to wait for a ``more convenient season.'' Shallow
understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating
than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will.
Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright
rejection.
I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that
law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice
and that when they fail in this purpose they become the
dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social
progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would
understand that the present tension in the South is a
necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative
peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust
plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men
will respect the dignity and worth of human personality.
Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not
the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the
hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the
open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that
can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be
opened with all its ugliness for the natural medicines of air
and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension
its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and
the air of national opinion before it can be cured.
Madam President, I yield to the Senator from Virginia.
The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Virginia.
Mr. KAINE. I thank the Senator from Texas.
Continuing:
In your statement you assert that our actions, even though
peaceful, must be condemned because they precipitate
violence. But is this a logical assertion? Isn't this like
condemning a robbed man because his possession of money
precipitated the evil act of robbery? Isn't this like
condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to
truth and his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by
the misguided populace in which they made him drink hemlock?
Isn't this like condemning Jesus because his unique God
consciousness and never ceasing devotion to God's will
precipitated the evil act of crucifixion? We must come to see
that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is
wrong to urge an individual to cease his efforts to gain his
basic constitutional rights because the quest may precipitate
violence. Society must protect the robbed and punish the
robber. I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject
the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for
freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother
in Texas. He writes: ``All Christians know that the colored
people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is
possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has
taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish
what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to
earth.'' Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception
of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is
something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure
all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used
either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel
that the people of ill will have used time much more
effectively than have the people of good will. We will have
to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words
and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence
of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels
of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of
men willing to be coworkers with God, and without this hard
work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social
stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge
that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to
make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending
national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is
the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of
racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.
You speak of our activity in Birmingham as extreme. At
first I was rather disappointed that fellow clergymen would
see my nonviolent efforts as those of an extremist. I began
thinking about the fact that I stand in the middle of two
opposing forces in the Negro community. One is a force of
complacency, made up in part of Negroes who, as a result of
long years of oppression, are so drained of self respect in
the sense of ``somebodiness'' that they have adjusted to
segregation; and in part of a few middle-class Negroes who,
because of a degree of academic and economic security and
because in some ways they profit by segregation, have become
insensitive to the problems of the masses. The other force is
one of bitterness and hatred, and it comes perilously close
to advocating violence. It is expressed in the various black
nationalist groups that are springing up across the nation,
the largest and best known being Elijah Muhammad's Muslim
movement. Nourished by the Negro's frustration over the
continued existence of racial discrimination, this movement
is made up of people who have lost faith in America, who have
absolutely repudiated Christianity, and who have concluded
that the white man is an incorrigible ``devil.''
I have tried to stand between these two forces, saying that
we need emulate neither the ``do nothingism'' of the
complacent nor the hatred and despair of the black
nationalist. For there is the more excellent way of love and
nonviolent protest. I am grateful to God that, through the
influence of the Negro church, the way of nonviolence became
an integral part of our struggle. If this philosophy had not
emerged, by now many streets of the South would, I am
convinced, be flowing with blood. And I am further convinced
that if our white brothers dismiss as ``rabble rousers'' and
``outside agitators'' those of us who employ nonviolent
direct action, and if they refuse to support our nonviolent
efforts, millions of Negroes will, out of frustration and
despair, seek solace and security in black nationalist
ideologies--a development that would inevitably lead to a
frightening racial nightmare.
Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The
yearning for freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is
what has happened to the American Negro. Something within has
reminded him of his birthright of freedom, and something
without has reminded him that it can be gained. Consciously
or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist, and
with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow
brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United
States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency toward
the promised land of racial justice. If one recognizes this
vital urge that has engulfed the Negro community, one should
readily understand why public demonstrations are taking
place. The Negro has many pent up resentments and latent
frustrations, and he must release them. So let him march; let
him make prayer pilgrimages to the city hall; let him go on
freedom rides--and try to understand why he must do so. If
his repressed emotions are not released in nonviolent ways,
they will seek expression through violence; this is not a
threat but a fact of history.
So I have not said to my people, ``Get rid of your
discontent.'' Rather, I have tried to say that this normal
and healthy discontent can be channeled through into the
creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this
approach is being termed extremist. But though I was
initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist,
as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a
measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an
extremist for love: ``Love your enemies, bless them that
curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them
which despitefully use you, and persecute you.'' Was not Amos
an extremist for justice: ``Let justice roll down like waters
and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.'' Was not Paul
an extremist for the Christian gospel: ``I bear in my body
the marks of the Lord Jesus.'' Was not Martin Luther an
extremist: ``Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me
God.'' And John Bunyan: ``I will stay in jail to the end of
my days before I make a butchery of my conscience.'' And
Abraham Lincoln: ``This nation cannot survive half slave and
half free.'' And Thomas Jefferson: ``We hold these truths to
be self evident, that all men are created equal . . .'' So
the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what
kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate
or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of
injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic
scene on Calvary's hill three men were crucified. We must
never forget that all three were crucified for the same
crime--the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for
immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other,
Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and goodness,
and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South,
the nation and the world are in dire need of creative
extremists.
I yield to the Senator from Alaska.
The PRESIDING OFFICER (Mr. Cassidy). The Senator from Alaska.
Ms. MURKOWSKI. He continues:
I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need.
Perhaps I was too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I
suppose I should have realized that few members of the
oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate
yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the
vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong,
persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however,
that some of our
[[Page S2312]]
white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this
social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are
still all too few in quantity, but they are big in quality.
Some--such as Ralph McGill, Lillian Smith, Harry Golden,
James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah Patton Boyle--have
written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic terms.
Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the
South. They have languished in filthy, roach infested jails,
suffering the abuse and brutality of policemen who view them
as ``dirty nigger-lovers.'' Unlike so many of their moderate
brothers and sisters, they have recognized the urgency of the
moment and sensed the need for powerful ``action'' antidotes
to combat the disease of segregation. Let me take note of my
other major disappointment. I have been so greatly
disappointed with the white church and its leadership. Of
course, there are some notable exceptions. I am not unmindful
of the fact that each of you has taken some significant
stands on this issue. I commend you, Reverend Stallings, for
your Christian stand on this past Sunday, in welcoming
Negroes to your worship service on a nonsegregated basis. I
commend the Catholic leaders of this state for integrating
Spring Hill College several years ago.
But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly
reiterate that I have been disappointed with the church. I do
not say this as one of those negative critics who can always
find something wrong with the church. I say this as a
minister of the gospel, who loves the church; who was
nurtured in its bosom; who has been sustained by its
spiritual blessings and who will remain true to it as long as
the cord of life shall lengthen.
When I was suddenly catapulted into the leadership of the
bus protest in Montgomery, Alabama, a few years ago, I felt
we would be supported by the white church. I felt that the
white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be
among our strongest allies. Instead, some have been outright
opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and
misrepresenting its leaders; all too many others have been
more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind
the anesthetizing security of stained glass windows. In spite
of my shattered dreams, I came to Birmingham with the hope
that the white religious leadership of this community would
see the justice of our cause and, with deep moral concern,
would serve as the channel through which our just grievances
could reach the power structure. I had hoped that each of you
would understand. But again I have been disappointed.
I have heard numerous southern religious leaders admonish
their worshipers to comply with a desegregation decision
because it is the law, but I have longed to hear white
ministers declare: ``Follow this decree because integration
is morally right and because the Negro is your brother.'' In
the midst of blatant injustices inflicted upon the Negro, I
have watched white churchmen stand on the sideline and mouth
pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities. In the
midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and
economic injustice, I have heard many ministers say: ``Those
are social issues, with which the gospel has no real
concern.'' And I have watched many churches commit themselves
to a completely other worldly religion which makes a strange,
un-Biblical distinction between body and soul, between the
sacred and the secular.
I have traveled the length and breadth of Alabama,
Mississippi and all the other southern states. On sweltering
summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at the
South's beautiful churches with their lofty spires pointing
heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlines of her
massive religious education buildings. Over and over I have
found myself asking: ``What kind of people worship here? Who
is their God? Where were their voices when the lips of
Governor Barnett dripped with words of interposition and
nullification? Where were they when Governor Wallace gave a
clarion call for defiance and hatred? Where were their voices
of support when bruised and weary Negro men and women decided
to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the bright
hills of creative protest?''
Yes, these questions are still in my mind. In deep
disappointment I have wept over the laxity of the church. But
be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can
be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. Yes,
I love the church. How could I do otherwise? I am in the
rather unique position of being the son, the grandson and the
great grandson of preachers. Yes, I see the church as the
body of Christ. But, oh! How we have blemished and scarred
that body through social neglect and through fear of being
nonconformists.
There was a time when the church was very powerful--in the
time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed
worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the
church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas
and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that
transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early
Christians entered a town, the people in power became
disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians
for being ``disturbers of the peace'' and ``outside
agitators.'' But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction
that they were ``a colony of heaven,'' called to obey God
rather than man. Small in number, they were big in
commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be
``astronomically intimidated.'' By their effort and example
they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and
gladiatorial contests. Things are different now. So often the
contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an
uncertain sound. So often it is an archdefender of the status
quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church,
the power structure of the average community is consoled by
the church's silent--and often even vocal--sanction of things
as they are.
But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before.
If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit
of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit
the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant
social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every
day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church
has turned into outright disgust.
Perhaps I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized
religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our
nation and the world? Perhaps I must turn my faith to the
inner spiritual church, the church within the church, as the
true ekklesia and the hope of the world. But again I am
thankful to God that some noble souls from the ranks of
organized religion have broken loose from the paralyzing
chains of conformity and joined us as active partners in the
struggle for freedom. They have left their secure
congregations and walked the streets of Albany, Georgia, with
us. They have gone down the highways of the South on tortuous
rides for freedom.
Mr. President, I yield to my friend from Alabama and thank him for
his leadership.
Mr. JONES. Mr. President, Dr. King continues:
Yes, they have gone to jail with us. Some have been
dismissed from their churches, have lost the support of their
bishops and fellow ministers. But they have acted in the
faith that right defeated is stronger than evil triumphant.
Their witness has been the spiritual salt that has preserved
the true meaning of the gospel in these troubled times.
They have carved a tunnel of hope through the dark mountain
of disappointment. I hope the church as a whole will meet the
challenge of this decisive hour. But even if the church does
not come to the aid of justice, I have no despair about the
future. I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in
Birmingham, even if our motives are at present misunderstood.
We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over
the nation, because the goal of America is freedom. Abused
and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with
America's destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we
were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic
words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of
history, we were here. For more than two centuries our
forebears labored in this country without wages; they made
cotton king; they built the homes of their masters while
suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation--and yet
out of a bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and
develop. If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not
stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will
win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and
the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing
demands. Before closing I feel impelled to mention one
other point in your statement that has troubled me
profoundly. You warmly commended the Birmingham police
force for keeping ``order'' and ``preventing violence.'' I
doubt that you would have so warmly commended the police
force if you had seen its dogs sinking their teeth into
unarmed, nonviolent Negroes. I doubt that you would so
quickly commend the policemen if you were to observe their
ugly and inhumane treatment of Negroes here in the city
jail; if you were to watch them push and curse old Negro
women and young Negro girls; if you were to see them slap
and kick old Negro men and young boys; if you were to
observe them, as they did on two occasions, refuse to give
us food because we wanted to sing our grace together. I
cannot join you in your praise of the Birmingham police
department.
It is true that the police have exercised a degree of
discipline in handling the demonstrators. In this sense they
have conducted themselves rather ``nonviolently'' in public.
But for what purpose? To preserve the evil system of
segregation. Over the past few years I have consistently
preached that nonviolence demands that the means we use must
be as pure as the ends we seek. I have tried to make clear
that it is wrong to use immoral means to attain moral ends.
But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or perhaps
even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends.
Perhaps Mr. Connor and his policemen have been rather
nonviolent in public, as was Chief Pritchett in Albany,
Georgia, but they have used the moral means of nonviolence to
maintain the immoral end of racial injustice. As T. S. Eliot
has said: ``The last temptation is the greatest treason: To
do the right deed for the wrong reason.''
I wish you had commended the Negro sit inners and
demonstrators of Birmingham for their sublime courage, their
willingness to suffer and their amazing discipline in the
midst of great provocation. One day the South will recognize
its real heroes. They will be the James Merediths, with the
noble sense of purpose that enables them to face jeering and
hostile mobs, and with the agonizing loneliness that
characterizes the life
[[Page S2313]]
of the pioneer. They will be old, oppressed, battered Negro
women, symbolized in a seventy two year old woman in
Montgomery, Alabama, who rose up with a sense of dignity and
with her people decided not to ride the segregated buses, and
who responded with ungrammatical profundity to one who
inquired about her weariness: ``My feets is tired, but my
soul is at rest.'' They will be the young high school and
college students, the young ministers of the gospel and a
host of their elders, courageously and nonviolently sitting
in at lunch counters and willingly going to jail for
conscience' sake. One day the South will know that when these
disinherited children of God sat down at lunch counters, they
were in reality standing up for what is best in the American
dream and for the most sacred values in our Judeo Christian
heritage, thereby bringing our nation back to those great
wells of democracy which were dug deep by the founding
fathers in their formulation of the Constitution and the
Declaration of Independence.
Never before have I written so long a letter. I'm afraid it
is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you
that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing
from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is
alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters,
think long thoughts, and pray long prayers?
If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the
truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to
forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the
truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to
settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to
forgive me.
I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also
hope that circumstances will soon make it possible for me to
meet each of you, not as an integrationist or a civil-rights
leader but as a fellow clergymen and a Christian brother. Let
us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will
soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be
lifted from our fear drenched communities, and in some not
too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and
brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their
scintillating beauty.
Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood,
MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.
Mr. President, I am struck by a fortuitous phrase in the closing of
this remarkable letter: ``One day the South will recognize its real
heroes.''
The South will recognize its real heroes indeed--heroes like Dr.
King, like Rosa Parks, like my old friend Fred Shuttlesworth; heroes
like Congressman John Lewis, like Fannie Lou Hamer, like Ida B. Wells;
heroes like the countless others who stood alongside them in the fight
for civil rights and like the innocent victims swept up in the brutal
crackdowns during this hopeful movement toward universal human dignity.
We carry on their legacy in our daily lives--in our schools, in our
houses of worship, in our workplaces, and throughout our society. That
includes in the institution of the U.S. Senate. It is also carried on
in the work of Dr. King's family members, like Martin Luther King III.
Dr. King wrote his letter in the midst of this struggle and knew that
much work still lay ahead. Less than 6 months after his arrest, the
Klan in Birmingham planted a bomb outside the ladies' lounge of the
16th Street Baptist Church, and it killed four innocent young African-
American girls.
A year later, though, Congress passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
The year after that, it passed the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Historic
changes were afoot. Yet, despite this incredible historic progress--or
perhaps because of it--in April 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was
assassinated in Memphis, TN. He was just 39 years old. He gave his life
for this cause. He gave his life in a struggle during which so many
gave their lives.
We have to remember this is not ancient history. We know that we
still have our challenges albeit in a world that has, no doubt,
benefited tremendously from the progress he achieved, but it is still a
work in progress. It will always be a work in progress.
If we truly believe in carrying on his legacy, we must recognize that
we cannot stand idly by when we see injustice and that we cannot stand
idly by when we see a reemergence of hateful rhetoric in our public
discourse. We have seen it before. We have seen it before in Birmingham
and elsewhere. We have seen before the devastating violence that can
follow, and it lives with us today. It lives with us today in tragedies
like those of Charleston, Charlottesville, Pittsburgh, and now New
Zealand.
We need to strive not just for civility but to make sure we live in a
country that does not hold each other in contempt. That bears
repeating. We talk a lot in this Chamber about civility and respect and
dignity, but the fact is, when we leave this Chamber and go out into
the world, people will hold each other in contempt more so than is just
public discourse. That has to change, ladies and gentlemen. It has to
change. Importantly, we--each of us--should continue to do our part to
ensure that the art of the moral universe continues to bend toward
justice.
I thank my colleagues who joined me this evening for this historic
event. It has been an honor and a privilege.
I yield the floor.
The PRESIDING OFFICER (Ms. Murkowski). The Senator from Ohio.