[Congressional Record Volume 168, Number 61 (Wednesday, April 6, 2022)]
[Senate]
[Pages S2006-S2011]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]



       Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Letter From Birmingham Jail

  Mr. BROWN. Madam President, it is my honor to--this is something I 
get to do once a year now--it is my honor to join Senator Rounds of 
South Dakota and Senator Hirono from Hawaii, and then Senator Collins 
later, Senator Baldwin, Senator Romney, and Senator Warnock, to join my 
colleagues of both parties on the floor to read one of the greatest 
pieces of writing of the 20th century, Dr. King's letter from the 
Birmingham jail.
  I thank those Senators for joining us. Our former colleague, Senator 
Doug Jones, began this tradition. He did it in 2019 and 2020. As he 
left the Senate in late 2020, he asked me to continue the tradition 
that he began. He would have been here on the floor with us to watch 
and to listen, but he was called to the White House on his work with 
Judge Jackson.
  This is a bipartisan reading. I very purposely chose three Republican

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friends--Senator Rounds will go first--and three Democrat friends, 
followed by Senator Hirono. And let me just lay out where we are and 
what we are doing.
  It is April 1963. Dr. King was held in the Birmingham Jail for the 
supposed crime of leading a series of peaceful protests and boycotts in 
the city of Birmingham, AL. The goal was to put pressure on the 
business community to end discrimination in their hiring for local 
jobs. Some White ministers from Alabama would take issue with these 
boycotts. They said: Slow down, Dr. King. Don't move too fast. We are 
for voting rights, too. We are for ending discrimination, but don't 
demand too much all at once.
  Dr. King rejected that premise. That is what this letter is about. It 
is about demanding justice now for people in Alabama whose skin was 
Black and who simply could not vote because of the color of their skin.
  We can't wait around and hope that problems in families' lives will 
solve themselves. It is up to us as citizens, as leaders, as members of 
our churches in our communities.
  Dr. King made this point more eloquently and persuasively, certainly, 
than I can. We will begin the reading of the letter with Senator Rounds 
from South Dakota.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from South Dakota.
  Mr. ROUNDS. Madam President, ladies and gentlemen of the Senate: 
First of all, to my friend and colleague, Senator Brown, I thank you 
for the opportunity to participate today, and I hope to do my best to 
add a feeling of strength to the message that Dr. Martin Luther King 
shared in his letter.
  This is a reading from a ``Letter From Birmingham Jail,'' Dr. Martin 
L. King Jr., April 16, 1963.

       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.'' Seldom do I pause to answer 
     criticism of my work and ideas. If I sought to answer all the 
     criticisms that cross my desk, my secretaries would have 
     little time for anything other than such correspondence in 
     the course of the day, and I would have no time for 
     constructive work. But since I feel that you are men of 
     genuine good will and that your criticisms are sincerely set 
     forth, I want to try to answer your statement in what I hope 
     will be patient and reasonable terms.
       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.
       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 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?'' 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 byproduct 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. 
     Like many others, we waited to see Mr. Connor defeated, and 
     to this end, we endured postponement after postponement. 
     Having aided in this community need, we felt that our direct 
     action program could be delayed no longer.

  Ms. HIRONO.

       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

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     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 country 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 [a racial slur], 
     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 we find it difficult to wait. 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.

  Ms. COLLINS.

       I hope, sirs, that 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 to consciously 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 code 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 a 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 everything 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.

  Mr. BROWN.

       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 to 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.
       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

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     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.

  Ms. BALDWIN.

       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 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 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.

  Mr. ROMNEY.

       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

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     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. 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.

  Mr. WARNOCK.

       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 it 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 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 
     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's 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 unreasonably 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.

  I yield the floor.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER (Ms. Baldwin). The Senator from Ohio.
  Mr. BROWN. Madam President, thanks to my colleagues, Senator Warnock, 
Senator Baldwin in the Presiding Officer's Chair, Senator Rounds, 
Senator Hirono, Senator Collins, and Senator Romney for joining me to 
read these powerful words today.
  This tradition began in 2019 when Senator Doug Jones from Alabama, a 
leader in the civil rights movement, as Senator Warnock who just spoke 
also is--he began this tradition in 2019. And then when he left the 
Senate in 2020, he asked me to continue and together read these 
powerful words--a diverse group on the floor today. We come from 
different backgrounds. We disagree on a number of things. We love this 
country. We know we can do better for the people who make it work.
  In my meeting yesterday with Judge Jackson--soon to be Justice 
Jackson--we talked about the deep connection between civil rights and 
workers' rights. Dr. King spoke to labor audiences throughout his life. 
He preached with a unique eloquence about the inherent dignity of work. 
He said that

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``so often we overlook the work and significance of those who are not 
in professional jobs, of those who are not in the so-called big jobs . 
. . Whenever you are engaged in work that serves humanity and is for 
the building of humanity,'' Dr. King said, ``it has dignity and it has 
worth.'' He said that ``no labor is really menial unless you're not 
getting adequate wages.''
  I think about the campaign Dr. King waged when he was assassinated. 
We will never forget that he was martyred in Memphis while fighting for 
some of the most exploited workers in the country: sanitation workers 
in segregated Memphis.
  We know too many workers face a similar exploitation today. We have 
seen, over the past 2 years, how many workers corporations call 
essential but treat as expendable. It is their whole business model.
  It is not a coincidence that many of those workers look like the ones 
for whom Dr. King was fighting for, that they are not the ones in the 
so-called--his words--``big jobs.''
  When on occasion, a company tries to do the right thing when they 
announce a pay raise or investment in workers, often Wall Street 
punishes them.
  This week, Starbucks--a corporation currently fighting its own 
workers trying to organize a union--announced they are throwing a bone 
to workers. The company is going to do a little tiny bit less in 
executive compensation in the form of stock buybacks this year and do 
some investment in the workers instead, and their stock price went 
down. The Wall Street business model doesn't just do nothing for 
workers--pardon the grammar--it actively discourages investment in 
workers.
  It has to change. Until hard work pays off for all workers, Dr. 
King's work remains unfinished. That means paying all workers a living 
wage. Senator Warnock is still on the floor, and Senator Baldwin, the 
Presiding Officer, are two of the people that fight the hardest for 
that.
  All workers must make a living wage, have more power over their 
schedule, provide good benefits and safety on the job, and not fight 
organizing a union. That means all workers get a fair share of the 
wealth that they create. It means recognizing the dignity of the 
communities that Black Americans have built over generations. That is 
how we bring ourselves closer to the society that Dr. King envisioned 
where all labor has dignity.
  I suggest the absence of a quorum.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The clerk will call the roll.
  The senior assistant legislative clerk proceeded to call the roll.
  Mr. PETERS. Madam President, I ask unanimous consent that the order 
for the quorum call be rescinded.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.