I
Letter from a Birmingham Jail
We know through painful experience that freedom is never
voluntarily given by the oppressor, it must be demanded by the
oppressed. Frankly, I have never yet engaged in a direct action
movement that was “well-timed” according to the timetable of
those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segrega
tion. For years now I have heard the word “Wait.” It rings in
the ear of every Negro with a piercing familiarity. This “Wait”
has always meant “Never." It has been a tranquilizing thalido
mide, relieving the emotional stress for a moment only to give
birth to an ill-formed infant of frustration. . . . We have waited
for more than three hundred and forty years for our constitu
tional and God-given rights. . . .
Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and
establish such creative tension that a community that has consis
tently refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks
so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer lx* ignored. I just
referred to the creation of tension as a part of the work of the
nonviolent register. This may sound rather shocking. But I must
confess that I am not afraid of the word tension. I have earnestly
worked and preached against violent tension, but there is a type
of constructive nonviolent tension that is necessary for growth__
There are just laws and there are unjust laws. I would agree
with St. Augustine that “An unjust law is no law at all.” . . .
I hope you can see the distinction I am trying to point out. In
no sense do I advocate evading or defying the law as the rabid
segregationist would do. This would lead to anarchy. One who
breaks an unjust law must do it openly, lovingly. . . . I submit that
an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust,
and willingly accepts the penalty by staying in jail to arouse the
conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality ex
pressing the very highest respect for law. . . .
I started 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 of Negroes who, as a result of long years
of oppression, have been so completely drained of self-respect
and a sense of “somebodiness” that they have adjusted to segre
gation, and, on the other hand, of a few Negroes in the middle
class who, because.of a degree of academic and economic security
and because at points they profit by segregation, have uncon
sciously become insensitive to the problems of the masses. The
other force is one of bitterness and hatred and comes perilously
close to advocating violence. . . . I have tried to stand between
these two forces saying that we need not follow the “do-nothing-
ism” of the complacent or the hatred and despair of the black
nationalist. There is a more excellent way of love and nonviolent
protest. I’m grateful to God that, through the Negro church, the
dimension of nonviolence entered our struggle. If this philosophy
had not emerged I am convinced that by now many streets of the
South would be Mowing with blood. And I am further convinced
that if our white brothers dismiss as “rabble rousers” and “out
side agitators” those of us who are working through the channels
of nonviolent direct action, and refuse to support our nonviolent
efforts, millions of Negroes, out of frustration and despair, will
seek solace and security in black nationalist ideologies, a develop
ment that will lead inevitably to a frightening racial nightmare.
. . . The question is not whether we will be extremist, but what
kind of extremist will we be? Will we be extremists for hate or
will we be extremists for love? Will we be extremists for the
preservation of injustice, or will we be extremists for the cause
of justice........ Jesus Christ was an extremist for love, truth, and
goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. So, after all,
maybe the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of
creative extremists.
April, 196.}
li i r m i ngha in, Ala ba in a
You’ re our kind o f people. We’ re your kind o f store.
IVeVe got what it takes!
Portland Observer. January 26, 1963 Section II Page 5