Sam Cedar (42:58)
How very delighted I am to see you expressing your concern about the issues that will be discussed tonight by turning out in such large numbers. I also want to say that I consider it a great honor to share this program with Dr. Bennett, Dr. Comminger and Rabbi Heschel, some of the distinguished leaders and personalities of our nation. Of course, it's always good to come back to Riverside Church. Over the last eight years, I have had the privilege of preaching here almost every year in that period. It is always a rich and rewarding experience to come to this great church and this great poetry. I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice. I join you in this meeting because I am in deepest agreement with the aims and work of the organization which has brought us together clergy and laymen concerned about Vietnam. The recent statement of your executive committee are the sentiments of my own heart. And I found myself in full accord when I read its opening lines. A time and comes when silence is betrayal. That time has come for us in relation to Vietnam. The truth of these words is beyond doubt. But the mission to which they called us is the most difficult one. Even when pressed by the divine of inner truth, men do not easily assume the task of opposing their government's policy, especially in time of war. Nor does the human spirit move without great difficulty against all the apathy of conformist thought within one's own bosom and in the surroundings world. Moreover, when the issues at hand seem as perplexing as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict, we are always on the verge of being mesmerized by uncertainty. But we must move on. Some of us who have already begun to break the silence of the night have found that the calling to speak is often a vocation of agony. But we must speak. We must speak with all the humility that is appropriate to our limited vision. But we must speak. We must rejoice as well, for sure, that this is the first time in our nation's history that a significant number of its religious leaders have chosen to move beyond the prophesying of smooth patriotism to the high grounds of a firm descent based upon the mandates of conscience and the reading of history. Perhaps a new spirit is rising among us. If it is, let us trace its movements and pray that our own inner being may be sensitive to its guidance, for we are deeply in need of a new way beyond the darkness that seems so close around. Over the past two years, as I have moved to break the betrayal of my own silences and to speak from the burnings of my own heart, as I have called for radical departures from the destruction of Vietnam, many quick persons have questioned me about the wisdom of my path. At the heart of their concerns, this query has often loomed large and loud. Why are you speaking about the war, Dr. King? Why are you joining the voices of dissent? Peace and civil rights don't mix, they say. Aren't you hurting the cause of your people? They ask. And when I hear them, though I often understand the source of their concern, I am nevertheless greatly saddened. For such questions mean that here inquiries have not really known my commitment or my calling. Indeed, their questions suggest that they do not know the world in which they live. In the light of such tragic misunderstandings, I deem it of signal importance to try to state clearly and I trust concisely, while I believe that the path from Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, the church in Montgomery, Alabama, where I began my pastorate, leads clearly through this sanctuary, tonight, I come to this platform tonight to make a passionate plea to my beloved nation. This speech is not addressed to Hanoi or to the National Liberation Day. It is not addressed to China or to Russia. Nor is it an attempt to overlook the ambiguity of the total situation and the need for a collective solution to the tragedy of Vietnam. Neither is it an attempt to make North Vietnam on the National Liberation Front, paragons of virtue. Not to overlook the role they must play in the successful resolution of the problem. While they both may have justifiable reasons to be suspicious of the good faith of the United States, life and history give eloquent testimony to the fact that conflicts are never resolved without trustful give and take on what sides. Tonight, however, I wish not to speak with Hanoi and the National Liberation Front, but rather to my fellow Americans. Since I am a preacher by calling, I suppose it is not surprising that I have seven major reasons for bringing Vietnam into the field of my moral vision. That is, at the outset, a very obvious and almost fascinating connection between the war in Vietnam and the struggle I and others have been waging in America. A few years ago, there was a shining moment in that struggle. It seemed as if there was a real promise of hope for the poor, both black and white. During the poverty slogan, there were experiments, hopes, new beginnings. Then came the buildup in Vietnam, and I watched this program, broken and eviscerated as if it was some idle political plaything of a society gone mad on war. I knew that America would never invest the necessary funds or energy in rehabilitation of its poor so long as adventures like Vietnam continued to draw men and skills and money like some demonic, destructive suction tube. So I was increasingly compelled to see the war as an enemy of the poor and to attack it as such. Perhaps a more tragic recognition of reality took the place, and it became clear to me that the war was going far more than devastating the hopes of the poor at home. It was sending their sons and their brothers and their husbands to fight and to die in extraordinarily high proportions relative to the rest of the population. We were taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society in sending them 8,000 miles to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harvard. So we have been repeatedly faced with the curl iron watching negro and white boys on TV stream, and they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools. So we watched them in brutal solidarity burning the huts of a poor village. But we realized that they would hardly live on the same block in Chicago. I cannot be silent in the patience of such fro manipulation of the poor. My third reason moves to an even deeper level of awareness, for it grows out of my experience in the ghettos of the North. Over the last three years, especially the last three summers, as I have walked among the desperate, rejected and angry young men, I have told them that Molotov cocktails in rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through non violent action. But they ask, and rightly so, what about Vietnam? They ask if our own nation was as using massive doses of violence to solve its problem, bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghetto without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today. My own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of the hundreds of thousands trembling under our bonds, I cannot be silent. For those who ask the question, are you a civil rights leader and thereby mean to exclude me from the movement for peace? I have this further answer. In 1957, when a group of us formed the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, we chose as our motto to save the soul of America. We were convinced that we could not limit our vision to certain rights for black people, but instead affirmed the conviction that America would never be free a sage from itself until the descendants of his slaves loose completely from the shackles they still wear. In a way, we were agreeing with Langston Hughes, that black bard of Holland who had written earlier, oh yes, I say it plain. America never was America to me. And yet I swear this oath, America will be. Now it should be incandescently clear that no one who has any concern for the integrity and life of America today can ignore the present war. If America's soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must reach Vietnam. It can never be saved so so long as it destroys the people's hopes of men the world over. So it is that those of us who are yet determined that America will be are led down the path of protest and dissent, working for the health of our land. As if the weight of such a commitment to the life and health of America were not enough, Another burden of responsibility was placed upon me in 1954. And I cannot forget that the Nobel Peace Prize was also a commission. A commission to work harder than I had ever worked before for the brotherhood of man. This is a calling that takes me beyond national allegiances. But even if it were not present, I would get happy to live with the meaning of my commitment to the ministry of Jesus Christ. To me, the relationship of this ministry to the making of peace is so obvious that I sometimes marvel at those who ask me why I'm speaking against. Could it be that they do not know that the good news was Meant for all men. For Communists, capitalists, for their children and ours, for black and for white, for revolutionary and conservative. Have they forgotten that my ministry is in obedience to the one who loved his enemies so fully that he died for them? What then can I say to the Vietcong or to Castro? Or tomorrow as a feast minister of this one? And I threatened them with death. Must I not share with them my life? Finally, as I tried to explain for you and for myself the road that leads from Montgomery to this place, I would have offered all that was most valid if I simply said that I must be true to my conviction that I share with all men the calling to be a son of the living God. Beyond the calling of race, a nation, a creed. Is this vocation of sonship and brotherhood. Because I believe that the Father is deeply concerned. Especially for his suffering and helpless and outcast children. I come to night to speak for them. This I believe to be the privilege and the burden of all of us who deem ourselves bound by allegiances and loyalties which are broader and deeper than nationalism. And which go beyond our nation's self defined goals and positions. We are called to speak for the weak, for the forceless, for the victims of our nation to those it calls enemy. For no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brother. And as I ponder the madness of Vietnam and such within myself are ways to understand and respond in compassion, my mind goes constantly to the people of that peninsula. I speak now not of the soldiers of each side, not of the ideologies of the liberation front, not of the hunter inside gone. But simply of the people who have been living under the curse of war for almost three continuous decades now. I think of them too, because it is clear to me that there will be no meaningful solution there. Until some attempt is made to know them and hear their broken cries. They must see Americans as strange liberals. Vietnamese people proclaim their own independence in 1954. In 1945, brother, after a combined French and Japanese occupation and before the communist revolution in China, they were led by Ho Chi Minh. Even though they quoted the American Declaration of Independence in their own documented freedom, we refused to recognize them. Instead, we decided to support France in its conquest of a farmer colony. Our government felt then that the Vietnamese people were not ready for independence. We again fell victim to the deadly Western arrogance that has poisoned the international atmosphere for so long. With that tragic decision, we rejected a revolutionary government seeking self determination. And a government that had been established not by China, for whom the Vietnamese have no great luck. But by clearly indigenous forces that included some countries. For the peasants, this new government meant real land reform. One of the most important needs in their lives. Nine years following 1945, we denied the people of Vietnam the right of independence. For nine years we vigorously supported the French in their abortive effort to recolonize Vietnam. Before the end of the war, we were meeting 80% of the French war cause. Even before the French were defeated at Vin Bien Phu, they began to despair of their reckless action. But we did not. We encouraged them with our huge financial and military supplies to continue the war even after they had moved. Soon we would be paying almost the full cost of this tragic attempt at recolonization. After the French were defeated, it looked as if independence and land reform would come again through the Geneva agreement. Then stared back came the United States. Determined that Ho should not unify the temporarily divided nation. The peasants watched again as we supported one of the most vicious modern dictators, our chosen man, Premier Diem. The peasants watched and cringed. His Diem ruthlessness of rooted out all opposition, supported their extortionist landlords and refused even to discuss reunification with the North. Peasants watched as all of this was presided over by United States interns. Then by increasing numbers of United States troops who came to help quell the insurgency that Diem's methods had aroused. Diem was overthrown. They may have been happy, but the long line of military dictators seemed to offer no real change, especially in terms of their need for land and peace. The only change came from America as we increased our troop commitments in support of governments with were singularly corrupt, inept and without popular support. All the while the people read our leaflets and received the regular promises of peace and democracy and land reform. Now they languish under our bonds and consider us, not their fellow Vietnamese, the real enemy. They move sadly and apathetically as we herd them off the land of their fathers. In the concentration camps where minimal social needs are rally met. They know they must move on or be destroyed by our bombs. So they go. Primarily women and children and ages. They watch as we poison that water, as we kill a million acres of their crops. They must weep as the bulldozers roared through their areas preparing to destroy the precious trees. They wandered into the hospitals with at least 20 casualties from American firepower. For one Viet Cong inflicted injury. So far we may have killed a million of them, mostly children. They wander into the towns and see thousands of the children. Homeless, without clothes, running in packs on the streets like animals. They see the children Degraded by our soldiers as they beg for food. They see the children selling their sisters to our soldiers. Soliciting for their mothers. What do the peasants think if we allow ourselves with the landlords. And as we refuse to put any action into our many words concerning land reform. What do they think as we test out our latest weapons on them? Just as the Germans tested out new medicine and new tortures in the concentration camps of Europe? Where are the roots of the independent Vietnam claim to be built? Is is it among these bossless ones? We have destroyed that two most cherished institutions. The family and the village. We have destroyed their land and their crops. We have cooperated in the crescent of the nation's only non communist revolutionary political force. The Unified Buddhist Church. We have supported the enemies of the peasants of Saigon. We have corrupted their women, children, killed their men. Now that is little left to build on, save thickness. Soon the only solid, solid physical foundations remaining. Will be found at our military bases. And in the concrete of the concentration camps we call fortified hamlets. Peasants may well wonder if we plan to build our new Vietnam on such grounds as these. But we blame them for such thoughts. We must speak for them and raise the questions they cannot raise. These two are our brothers. Perhaps the more difficult, for no best necessary task. Is to speak to those who have been designated as our enemies. What is the National Liberation Front, that strangely anonymous group we call VC of Communists? What must they think of the United States of America? And they realize that we permitted the repressions and the cruelty of the deeds. Which helped to bring them into being as a resistance group in the South. What do they think of our condoning the violence which led to their own taking up arms? How can they believe in our integrity. When now we speak of aggression from the North. As if there were nothing more essential to the war? How can they trust us? For now we charge them with violence after. After the murderous reign of Diem. And charge them with violence. While we pour every new weapon of death into their land. Surely we must understand their feelings. Even if we do not condone their actions. Surely we must see that the men we supported pressed them to their violence. Surely we must see that our own computerized plans appear destruction simply dwarf their greatest acts. How do they judge us when our officials know that their membership is less than 25% communist. And yet insist on giving them the blanket name? What must they be thinking when they know that we are aware of their control of major sections of Vietnam? And yet we appear ready to to allow national elections. In which this highly organized political Parallel government will not have a part. They ask how we can speak of free elections. When the Saigon press is censored and controlled by the military hunter. And they're surely right to wonder what kind of new government we plan to help form without them. The only party in real touch with the peasants. They question our political goals. And they deny the reality of a peace settlement from which they will be excluded. Their questions are frighteningly relevant. Is our nation planning to build on political myth again. Then show it up from the power of new violence? Yet is a true meaning and value of compassion and nonviolence. When it helps us to see the enemy's point of view, to hear his questions, to know his assessment of ourselves. For from his view we may indeed see the basic weaknesses of our own condition. And if we are mature, we may learn and grow in profit. From the wisdom of the brothers who are call the opposition. So too, with Hanoi in the north. Where our bombs now pummel the land and our minds endangered the waterways. We are met by a deep but understandable mistrust. To speak for them is to explain this lack of confidence in Western words. And especially their distrust of American intentions. Now in Hanoi are the men who led the nation to independence against the Japanese and the French. The men who sought membership in the French commonwealth. And were betrayed by the weakness of Paris and the willfulness of the colonial armies. It was they who led a second struggle against French domination at tremendous cost. And then were persuaded to give up the land they controlled. Between the 13th and 17th parallel. As a temporary measure. At Geneva after 1954. They watched us conspire with Diem to prevent elections. Which could have surely brought Ho Chi Minh to power over a united Vietnam. They realized they had been betrayed again. And we ask why they do not leap to negotiate. These things must be remembered.