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

Floor Speech

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Mr. JONES. Madam President, one of the greatest indictments I believe ever written was written on scraps of paper in a lonely jail cell in Birmingham, AL, in 1963. The letter from a Birmingham jail written by Dr. Martin Luther King is a call to action.

Last year, for the first time in the history of this body, the entire letter was read on the Senate floor by three Republicans, three Democrats--a bipartisan effort, a bipartisan reading of a letter that is so important, the words of which still resonate today.

Today, we do it again. I am pleased that we have once again three Republicans and three Democrats to take part in this historic reading. At this point, as we get to that letter, I would like to yield the floor to my friend from South Carolina, Senator Scott, for a special introduction for this important reading

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Mr. JONES. Madam President, continuing reading the letter from Birmingham jail:

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. Such 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 a 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 the maintenance of the status quo. I have hoped 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 just 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 policeman 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 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 [an expletive], your middle named 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.

Mr. President, I want to first thank my colleagues who joined me today.

As Senator Scott said, we had hoped to do this in April on the anniversary of the writing of this letter. Unfortunately, the pandemic overtook us. But, as Senator Scott said, I don't think the timing could be any better than today.

Just as last year when we did this, I am sure that each of my colleagues today will leave the floor with an even greater appreciation of Dr. King's legacy and I hope a better understanding of where America finds itself today.

When we think of Dr. King, we usually see him on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial eloquently and passionately describing his dream for America or behind a pulpit in Memphis urging his audience to press forward, to not be discouraged in their quest for civil and equal rights because he had been to the mountaintop and he had seen the Promise Land.

It is, frankly, somewhat astounding to read his thoughts that were read on the floor today and picture him in a small, dirty jail cell, writing in longhand on napkins and scraps of paper and newspaper to a group of ministers who were not hateful as much as they were questioning the need for action at that particular moment in 1963.

There are some who would say that, to share my thoughts on our situation today, I need to move beyond a letter written in 1963, beyond a call of action so long ago. Certainly, it is true that there are more contemporary voices and writings that explain how we should see our times and what actions are needed today, now and in the present. After all, although it was uncertain in the spring of 1963, Dr. King, in a movement, would go on to achieve historic changes with the signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and so many other legislative victories.

But I believe we are at a similar moment today, in this time, in this place, and that Dr. King's words are as contemporary as they are powerful. You see, in 1963, Alabama had become the focal point of the racism and division and hatred that existed throughout our Nation. Bombings and fires in Black neighborhoods were commonplace; suspects never apprehended; a Governor promising segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever; Bull Connor shocking the Nation when he unleashed vicious police dogs and firehoses on innocent children engaged in a peaceful protest; and later in that year, a church bombing that killed four young girls simply because of the color of their skin.

The question on the day Dr. King was arrested was, Why now? Why the risk of jail and perhaps death to protest conditions in a city that Dr. King had described as the most segregated in America--a city, though, that had just elected a new city government that had promised change? It is a question Dr. King and all Black Americans had heard for too long, and it was time for an answer

I believe the wisdom of this letter is perhaps the best frame to view how we move forward during this moment, the movement of this time, the movement of this generation. In passage after passage, Dr. King warns us how easily people can fall back to accepting the status quo, how easily people can hear the word ``wait'' when, in fact, the word means ``never.''

From a jail cell in Birmingham in 1963, Dr. King told us that action in that moment was critical so that issues of racism and inequality throughout the land would no longer be ignored. And here we are, 57 years later--57 years later--and his words are still just as timely. The action in this moment, our moment, is likewise critical so that issues of systemic racism and inequality can finally be erased.

While so many seem to be heeding Dr. King's call for action--across the country, we see it time and again: hundreds, if not thousands, of people heeding Dr. King's call for action today--my greatest fear at this moment, quite frankly, is that so many people who have felt powerless or unaffected who are willing to march and speak out, ready to change the fairness of our laws and society--my greatest concern is that these good people will get distracted. It is easy to be overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem. It is understandable to not know where to begin. But it is not enough to simply agree any longer, to simply have a conversation.

Remember, Dr. King confesses to the ministers to whom he is responding that he has been gravely disappointed with what he terms, in 1963, the ``White model.''

If a conversation is all that comes from the moment we are in, then our society will have lost the greatest chance of our lifetime to remedy wrongs that have compounded for centuries.

It is time for both our institutions and our society to meaningfully reverse the degenerating sense of nobodiness.

In this moment, we have a critical mass of society that understands the legitimate and unavoidable patience of which Dr. King spoke. The last few months have made the truths of being Black in America clear to all.

We have watched somewhat helplessly as a pandemic killed Black people at the rate of almost 2\1/2\ times that of other Americans, not from a mutation of the virus but from an underfunded health system that too often deprives Black Americans care for diabetes, heart disease, and other health issues that are now described as preexisting conditions.

We have watched an economic toll as Black-owned businesses failed at twice the rate of others, and unemployment for Black Americans grows faster and will stay higher than those of the rest of America.

Of course, through this pandemic, we have also seen the heroes: Black workers delivering packages, stocking grocery stores, and serving on frontlines in hospitals and as first responders. But the economic reality of being Black in America remains a sin of our Nation

There have certainly been many Black Americans who have pushed through a system weighted against them to prosper, to find the American dream. We celebrate those folks but must face the fact that discrimination and institutional racism push much too hard against the health, education, job opportunities, and financial security of those whom this Government of the United States of America once counted as only three-fifths of a person.

Then, while in the course of this pandemic, as we were seeing the truths of this system and society that have been easy to pretend did not really exist, on our screens came a video of a Black man being killed with the knee of a police officer on the back of his neck.

The image of George Floyd on the ground--as low as one could possibly, physically get in life--with the knee of a police officer--an agent of the State--on his neck, keeping him on the ground, was far more than just an image of the legalities of a violation of George Floyd's civil rights and the color of law; it was an image of a society and a culture that keep the knee on the necks of Black Americans through systemic racism and discrimination.

George Floyd's cries of ``I can't breathe'' were not just the cries of an innocent man pleading for his life but the cries of so many of our fellow Americans who are choked by healthcare systems that deny them access to quality and affordable healthcare; who are, in Dr. King's words, ``smothering in an airtight cage of poverty,''; who can't breathe the fresh air of affordable housing, education, and economic opportunities; or who simply have to hold their own breath when they or their sons or their daughters venture away from their home, fearing a police encounter that will take their life.

Perhaps even more than the dogs and the firehoses in Birmingham or the State trooper beatings on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, AL, the video of George Floyd's last moments on Earth was a confluence of events that gave our Nation an image of itself that it could no longer bear.

I truly--I truly and fully believe that the soul of America has come to the streets of America looking for a way for all of her people to live in a more just society; that we are at a time when what I have called a crisis trifecta of health, economic, and inequality has resulted in a careful examination and introspection of our beliefs and our priorities about race and about poverty; that we have come to understand more than at any time in the history of our country that whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.

Standing on the floor of the U.S. Senate, though, I know that this moment requires more than introspection on our part. We in this body and in government as a whole have the power to effect actual change. To not do so with speed would be forever unpardonable.

As a person, as an individual, as a citizen of the United States, I know that I must, like everyone in this country, open my heart and my mind to listen with concern and empathy and to act as an individual. But I also know that as a U.S. Senator, I am ready to act, freely admitting that I might not have the ideal solution or all of the answers but not letting the theoretical perfect be the enemy of tangible change that we must see, not asking our citizens to wait any longer than they already have.

As a body, we have acted before, and we should act again. To that end, we are seeing proposals for law enforcement reform from the administration, from congressional leaders on both sides of the political aisle, and in both Houses of the U.S. Congress. I am hopeful--even optimistic--that we can find the common ground necessary to achieve meaningful reform, but we will need to do more for this country.

As Dr. King reminds us, sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its application. I would add to that that a law that seemed to hold such promise at one time can be eroded to the point where it becomes unjust.

To that end, I respectfully submit that we should review the Voting Rights Act to make sure that easy success at the ballot box is a reality, especially in the midst of a healthcare crisis. We should examine existing laws and practices in education to make sure everyone has equal access to a quality education. We should examine existing laws to ensure that everyone has equal economic opportunities, including protections from employment discrimination.

To that extent, I should add that, with the historic Supreme Court decision yesterday--one which I applaud, even though some in this body may not--we should immediately bring the Equality Act to the floor of the Senate and affirm our commitment to ending discrimination in the workplace in any form, against any individual.

We should examine again existing laws that continue to deny quality, affordable healthcare to poor and low-income households, including giving States like Alabama the incentives necessary to expand Medicaid to get those Federal dollars to help lift those individuals who not only struggled before this pandemic but have lost their healthcare during this pandemic.

We need to examine laws like the Fair Housing Act, signed only a week after Dr. King's assassination, in order to ensure that that act fulfills the promise upon which it was enacted.

We spend billions of dollars each year to perpetuate housing that keeps people without means, especially Black families, trapped in places where it is difficult to access education, healthy food, and economic opportunities. Unfortunately, all signs are pointing to a worsening housing crisis because of the pandemic.

As a people and as a Congress, we cannot let this moment pass. By saying that, I mean more than just passing reforms. Surely reforms are needed, but the greater need is not just to reform but to transform, to make a dramatic change in the nature and character of our institutions and our culture toward a more just government and society.

To that end, as we focus on heeding Dr. King's call to action written in 1963, we should also remember his words written just 3 years after the passage of the Civil Rights Act and 2 years after the passage of the Voting Rights Act. In his 1967 final book ``Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos Or Community?'' Dr. King wrote:

[America] has been sincere and even ardent in welcoming some change. But too quickly apathy and disinterest rise to the surface when the next logical steps are to be taken. Laws are passed in a crisis mood after a Birmingham or a Selma, but no substantial fervor survives the formal signing of legislation. The recording of the law in itself is treated as the reality of the reform.

The point is simply, but significantly, to those of you who have suffered long for equality and for opportunity: Keep this moment alive. Keep it alive beyond the crisis mood we find ourselves in today by continuing to engage those who have more recently seen your plight through new eyes. Demand that we not just meet this moment with more division, intolerance, and anger at one another that pulls us farther apart and deeper into chaos where we have failed to heal. That cannot be America's future.

Demand that it not be, as Dr. King's letter warned, simply a moment for another conversation that makes it sound like something is changing but it never does.

The path from the first slave ship to land on these shores, to the lone, barren jail cell in Birmingham, AL, where Dr. King wrote his letter that we read today, to the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and Rayshard Brooks--that path is a long one--too long. It is a path of a multigenerational failure to be the America of our ideals, where the Civil War is actually over and we are truly one Nation, with liberty and justice for all.

I will tell you, as a son of the South--the Deep South--that we should not lose this moment. We in the South have been at the center of this divide for too long, and we can be at the center of healing it and leading the Nation to a more just society.

Since our country's inception, we have said the words: ``All are created equal.'' We have pledged that we are a nation with justice for all--all, not some--all. But we know that we have never lived up to that ideal. We all know it.

In response to many of the protests that are taking place across this country today, where voices and T-shirts and face masks proclaim that ``Black lives matter,'' some insist on saying that ``all lives matter.'' Of course they do, but we will not be a country where we are all truly equal and where justice is for all until we can all say the words ``Black lives matter'' and mean it.

We have to mean it now. All of us must reject the voices of hatred and intolerance and division. All of us must embrace taking action to root out injustice and to seek justice and opportunity for all. The road to racial justice in America has taken far too long, but it is a path we must walk together if we are to reach the mountaintop.

To my colleagues, I say: Join me and others. To the people of Alabama and our Nation I say: Join together.

It is time, America. It is time.

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