Mr. President, I will continue: 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.…
Mr. President, I will continue:
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 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.