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Martin
Luther King's
"Letter from
Birmingham Jail"
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 statements 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 an 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 bad
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 with
with-drawal 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
mayoralty 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-oat 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.
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, we 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 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 stiff
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 dark 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 no 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. 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 won ask: "How
can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying
others?" The answer lies in the fact that there
fire two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be
the Brat 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 distort 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 awful. Paul Tillich 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 ace 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.
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 good will 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 fan 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 an 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 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: "An
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 rational 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
co-workers 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 6e solid rock of human
dignity.
You speak of our activity in Birmingham as
extreme. At fist I was rather disappointed that
fellow clergymen would see my nonviolent efforts as
those of an extremist. I began thinking about the
fact that 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 and a 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 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 an men are created
equal ..." So the question is not whether we will
be extremists, but what kind of extremists we viii
be. We we be extremists for hate or for love? Will
we be extremist 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, Jeans 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 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 non segregated 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 Rio 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 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 leader
era; an 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, on
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
Walleye 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? l 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. Par 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 vi
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
jai 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, ham and
all over the nation, because the goal of America k
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 handing the demonstrators.
In this sense they have conducted themselves rather
"nonviolently" in pubic. 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 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 fleets 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 Judaeo-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
k 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 clergyman 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.
[Please Note: This document
has not been edited for spelling, grammar, or
usage. It is presented as given in the original
source.]
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