Barack Obama

Yes We Can

I've Been to the Mountaintop

I've Been to the Mountaintop
~ By Martin Luther King

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/USAmountaintop.htm

April 3, 1968
Memphis, Tennessee

You know, several years ago, I was in New York City autographing the first book that I had written. And while sitting there autographing books, a demented black woman came up. The only question I heard from her was, "Are you Martin Luther King?"

And I was looking down writing, and I said yes. And the next minute I felt something beating on my chest. Before I knew it I had been stabbed by this demented woman. I was rushed to Harlem Hospital. It was a dark Saturday afternoon. And that blade had gone through, and the X-rays revealed that the tip of the blade was on the edge of my aorta, the main artery. And once that's punctured, you drown in your own blood--that's the end of you.

It came out in the New York Times the next morning, that if I had sneezed, I would have died. Well, about four days later, they allowed me, after the operation, after my chest had been opened, and the blade had been taken out, to move around in the wheel chair in the hospital. They allowed me to read some of the mail that came in, and from all over the states, and the world, kind letters came in. I read a few, but one of them I will never forget. I had received one from the President and the Vice-President. I've forgotten what those telegrams said. I'd received a visit and a letter from the Governor of New York, but I've forgotten what the letter said. But there was another letter that came from a little girl, a young girl who was a student at the White Plains High School. And I looked at that letter, and I'll never forget it. It said simply, "Dear Dr. King: I am a ninth-grade student at the Whites Plains High School." She said, "While it should not matter, I would like to mention that I am a white girl. I read in the paper of your misfortune, and of your suffering. And I read that if you had sneezed, you would have died. And I'm simply writing you to say that I'm so happy that you didn't sneeze."

And I want to say tonight, I want to say that I am happy that I didn't sneeze. Because if I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around here in 1960, when students all over the South started sitting-in at lunch counters. And I knew that as they were sitting in, they were really standing up for the best in the American dream. And taking the whole nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the Founding Fathers in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around in 1962, when Negroes in Albany, Georgia, decided to straighten their backs up. And whenever men and women straighten their backs up, they are going somewhere, because a man can't ride your back unless it is bent. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been here in 1963, when the black people of Birmingham, Alabama, aroused the conscience of this nation, and brought into being the Civil Rights Bill. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have had a chance later that year, in August, to try to tell America about a dream that I had had. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been down in Selma, Alabama, to see the great movement there. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been in Memphis to see a community rally around those brothers and sisters who are suffering. I'm so happy that I didn't sneeze.

And they were telling me, now it doesn't matter now. It really doesn't matter what happens now. I left Atlanta this morning, and as we got started on the plane, there were six of us, the pilot said over the public address system, "We are sorry for the delay, but we have Dr. Martin Luther King on the plane. And to be sure that all of the bags were checked, and to be sure that nothing would be wrong with the plane, we had to check out everything carefully. And we've had the plane protected and guarded all night."

And then I got into Memphis. And some began to say that threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers?

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

http://www.nytimes.com/books/98/01/18/home/king-oslo.html

December 11, 1964

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Oslo, Norway

Your Majesty, your Royal Highness, Mr. President, excellencies,
ladies and gentlemen:

I accept the Nobel prize for peace at a moment when 22 million
Negroes of the United States of America are engaged in a creative
battle to end the long night of racial injustice. I accept this award
in behalf of a civil rights movement which is moving with
determination and a majestic scorn for risk and danger to establish a
reign of freedom and a rule of justice.

I am mindful that only yesterday in Birmingham, Ala., our children,
crying out for brotherhood, were answered with fire hoses, snarling
dogs and even death. I am mindful that only yesterday in
Philadelphia, Miss., young people seeking to secure the right to vote
were brutalized and murdered.

I am mindful that debilitating and grinding poverty afflicts my
people and chains them to the lowest rung of the economic ladder.

Therefore, I must ask why this prize is awarded to a movement which
is beleaguered and committed to unrelenting struggle: to a
movement which has not won the very peace and brotherhood
which is the essence of the Nobel prize.

After contemplation, I conclude that this award which I received on
behalf of that movement is profound recognition that nonviolence is
the answer to the crucial political and moral question of our time--
the need for man to overcome oppression and violence without
resorting to violence and oppression.

Civilization and violence are antithetical concepts. Negroes of the
United States, following the people of India, have demonstrated that
nonviolence is not sterile passivity, but a powerful moral force
which makes for social transformation. Sooner or later, all the
people of the world will have to discover a way to live together in
peace, and thereby transform this pending cosmic elegy into a
creative psalm of brotherhood.

If this is to be achieved, man must evolve for all human conflict a
method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The
foundation of such a method is love.

The tortuous road which has led from Montgomery, Ala., to Oslo
bears witness to this truth. This is a road over which millions
of Negroes are traveling to find a new sense of dignity. This
same road has opened for all Americans a new era of progress
and hope....

The Power of Non-Violence

~ By Dr. Arun Gandhi, grandson of Mahatma Gandhi (founder of
the M.K.Gandhi Institute for Non-Violence), in his June 9 lecture at
the University of Puerto Rico.


I was 16 years old and living with my parents at the
institute my grandfather had founded 18 miles outside of
Durban, South Africa, in the middle of the sugar plantations.
We were deep in the country and had no neighbors, so my
two sisters and I would always look forward to going to town
to visit friends or go to the movies.

One day, my father asked me to drive him to town for an
all-day conference, and I jumped at the chance. Since I was
going to town, my mother gave me a list of groceries she
needed and, since I had all day in town, my father asked me
to take care of several pending chores, such as getting the car
serviced.

When I dropped my father off that morning, he said, "I will
meet you here at 5:00 p.m., and we will go home together."
After hurriedly completing my chores, I went straight to
the nearest movie theatre. I got so engrossed in a John
Wayne double-feature that I forgot the time. It was 5:30
before I remembered. By the time I ran to the garage and
got the car and hurried to where my father was waiting for
me, it was almost 6:00.

He anxiously asked me, "Why were you late?"

I was so ashamed of telling him I was watching a John Wayne
western movie that I said, "The car wasn't ready, so I had
to wait," not realizing that he had already called the
garage.

When he caught me in the lie, he said: "There's something
wrong in the way I brought you up that didn't give you
the confidence to tell me the truth. In order to figure out
where I went wrong with you, I'm going to walk home 18 miles
and think about it."

So, dressed in his suit and dress shoes, he began to walk
home in the dark on mostly unpaved, unlit roads.

I couldn't leave him, so for five-and-a-half hours I drove
behind him, watching my father go through this agony for a
stupid lie that I uttered. I decided then and there that I
was never going to lie again. I often think about that
episode and wonder, if he had punished me the way we punish
our children, whether I would have learned a lesson at all.
I don't think so. I would have suffered the punishment and
gone on doing the same thing. But this single non-violent
action was so powerful that it is still as if it happened
yesterday. That is the power of non-violence.