John Whitehead's Commentary
Remembering Martin Luther King, Jr.: How Far Has America Really Come?
Had he lived, Martin Luther King, Jr., would have been 73 years old this year. Had he lived, he might still have been rallying America to live up to his dream of racial equality and justice for all. This father of the civil rights movement might have led the charge for welfare reform and gun control. Certainly, he would have been a champion for the poor and underrepresented in our society.
But he did not live.
On April 4, 1968, an assassin's bullet did what 13 years of jailings, beatings, bombings and death threats could not do, ripping a three-inch hole in King's face as he stood on the balcony of a Memphis hotel. Within an hour, America's most renowned champion of nonviolent protest was dead.
Yet not everyone mourned his passing.
I was a college student at the time and full of hope that things could get better, people could change the world, peace could be real. But I was in for a rude awakening. On the day King died, I was in a restaurant in Fayetteville, Ark., when I heard people cheering. When I asked what the commotion was all about, a student at a neighboring table explained, "Martin Luther King has just been killed." I was stunned and horrified.
A peace warrior had been murdered, and many were delighted. That evening, I heard reports that others had cheered King's death. It was later reported that an FBI agent in Atlanta declared, "They finally got the s.o.b.!"
It was a chilling realization that human beings could be so cruel as to rejoice over the brutal slaying of a man of peace. But King had made many enemies through the years. Although his popularity had been on the wane for two years, he continued to speak his conscience, even though it meant alienating many of his supporters. He appealed to many black separatists, planned an anti-poverty march in Washington, DC, that would include both blacks and whites, and spoke out against the Vietnam War. As a result, he found himself under attack by conservative whites, black power advocates and even many moderate blacks who were frustrated with his stance against the Vietnam War. Even the FBI had a hand in persecuting King for his stand on social issues--at one point, agents sent King a note urging suicide.
Without a doubt, King was a man who inspired strong emotions and reactions, even in death. Within days of his murder, racial rioting swept the nation. Restraint disintegrated. King's assassination radicalized even further many in the black civil rights movement, to such an extent that many believed nonviolence went to the grave with him. African-American activist Stokely Carmichael proclaimed, "When white America killed Dr. King, she declared war on us."
King's assassination, followed by the summer riots of 1968, caused whatever understanding existed between blacks and whites to evaporate. The schism is still deeply embedded in the American social fabric.
With King's death, the American poor lost their most effective intercessor, and oppressed people around the world lost their most articulate voice. His prophetic words mirrored a twentieth-century America that had acquired global power but also one that had sacrificed some of its most treasured values on the altar of institutional racism, economic injustice and international influence.
King's legacy has been formidable. His stinging indictments against complacency in the face of evil awakened a generation to the need to stand for truth. He became our conscience and our advocate--not just for some but for all races and people. As author James Baldwin said of King, he succeeded in a way no one "before him has managed to do, to carry the battle into the individual heart and make its resolution the providence of the individual will. He has made it a matter, on both sides of the racial fence, of self-examination."
More than anything, King made Americans live up to their creed. "Justice for all" became more than a phrase to be echoed by schoolchildren.
Reverend Ralph Abernathy, one of Dr. King's best friends, tended to him as he lay dying. Abernathy then addressed his Sunday sermon that dark week in April 1968 to King in the form of a letter:
Those who killed you did not know that you loved them and that you worked for them as well....They thought that they could kill our movement by killing you, Martin. We promise you, Martin, that we will tighten our fellowship and cover our word. Don't worry, my friend. We will pull our load. We will do our best. With the help of our friends and above all with the help of God.
If we are truly to remember Martin Luther King, Jr., pay tribute to his life, and honor the cause for which he died, then we must stand fast to Abernathy's promise to "pull our load." King put aside complacency to speak out against the evils of the time. He risked his life to champion the causes of the oppressed. He pressed on to the end when it seemed as if all were against him.
If we are to honor his life and his legacy, we can do no less.
But he did not live.
On April 4, 1968, an assassin's bullet did what 13 years of jailings, beatings, bombings and death threats could not do, ripping a three-inch hole in King's face as he stood on the balcony of a Memphis hotel. Within an hour, America's most renowned champion of nonviolent protest was dead.
Yet not everyone mourned his passing.
I was a college student at the time and full of hope that things could get better, people could change the world, peace could be real. But I was in for a rude awakening. On the day King died, I was in a restaurant in Fayetteville, Ark., when I heard people cheering. When I asked what the commotion was all about, a student at a neighboring table explained, "Martin Luther King has just been killed." I was stunned and horrified.
A peace warrior had been murdered, and many were delighted. That evening, I heard reports that others had cheered King's death. It was later reported that an FBI agent in Atlanta declared, "They finally got the s.o.b.!"
It was a chilling realization that human beings could be so cruel as to rejoice over the brutal slaying of a man of peace. But King had made many enemies through the years. Although his popularity had been on the wane for two years, he continued to speak his conscience, even though it meant alienating many of his supporters. He appealed to many black separatists, planned an anti-poverty march in Washington, DC, that would include both blacks and whites, and spoke out against the Vietnam War. As a result, he found himself under attack by conservative whites, black power advocates and even many moderate blacks who were frustrated with his stance against the Vietnam War. Even the FBI had a hand in persecuting King for his stand on social issues--at one point, agents sent King a note urging suicide.
Without a doubt, King was a man who inspired strong emotions and reactions, even in death. Within days of his murder, racial rioting swept the nation. Restraint disintegrated. King's assassination radicalized even further many in the black civil rights movement, to such an extent that many believed nonviolence went to the grave with him. African-American activist Stokely Carmichael proclaimed, "When white America killed Dr. King, she declared war on us."
King's assassination, followed by the summer riots of 1968, caused whatever understanding existed between blacks and whites to evaporate. The schism is still deeply embedded in the American social fabric.
With King's death, the American poor lost their most effective intercessor, and oppressed people around the world lost their most articulate voice. His prophetic words mirrored a twentieth-century America that had acquired global power but also one that had sacrificed some of its most treasured values on the altar of institutional racism, economic injustice and international influence.
King's legacy has been formidable. His stinging indictments against complacency in the face of evil awakened a generation to the need to stand for truth. He became our conscience and our advocate--not just for some but for all races and people. As author James Baldwin said of King, he succeeded in a way no one "before him has managed to do, to carry the battle into the individual heart and make its resolution the providence of the individual will. He has made it a matter, on both sides of the racial fence, of self-examination."
More than anything, King made Americans live up to their creed. "Justice for all" became more than a phrase to be echoed by schoolchildren.
Reverend Ralph Abernathy, one of Dr. King's best friends, tended to him as he lay dying. Abernathy then addressed his Sunday sermon that dark week in April 1968 to King in the form of a letter:
Those who killed you did not know that you loved them and that you worked for them as well....They thought that they could kill our movement by killing you, Martin. We promise you, Martin, that we will tighten our fellowship and cover our word. Don't worry, my friend. We will pull our load. We will do our best. With the help of our friends and above all with the help of God.
If we are truly to remember Martin Luther King, Jr., pay tribute to his life, and honor the cause for which he died, then we must stand fast to Abernathy's promise to "pull our load." King put aside complacency to speak out against the evils of the time. He risked his life to champion the causes of the oppressed. He pressed on to the end when it seemed as if all were against him.
If we are to honor his life and his legacy, we can do no less.
ABOUT JOHN W. WHITEHEAD
Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute. His most recent books are the best-selling Battlefield America: The War on the American People, the award-winning A Government of Wolves: The Emerging American Police State, and a debut dystopian fiction novel, The Erik Blair Diaries. Whitehead can be contacted at staff@rutherford.org. Nisha Whitehead is the Executive Director of The Rutherford Institute. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.
Publication Guidelines / Reprint Permission
John W. Whitehead’s weekly commentaries are available for publication to newspapers and web publications at no charge. Please contact staff@rutherford.org to obtain reprint permission.
