Sunday, January 20, 2002
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King helped America
realize its dream
His life and work continue
to provide guidance in
a troubled worldBy Burl Burlingame
bburlingame@starbulletin.com
"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."-- Martin Luther King Jr.
There aren't many Americans who have called down as much lightning on their heads as Martin Luther King Jr., whose "day" we commemorate tomorrow. In the wake of his assassination -- not murder -- nearly a third of a century ago, there's no part of the nation that doesn't have a King highway or building; a scholarship, foundation or school; celebration, debate or argument.
And why not? King was one of the great Americans. He reminded us of who we are, and that we're part of a great social, democratic experiment that's still in progress. America isn't set in stone. America is a flickering concept kept alive by people like King, people who light candles glimmering in the darkness, no matter what the illumination reveals.
There are those who revere King as a shining saint. There are those who despise him deeply. Neither can really tell you why. The man touches Americans on a deep, inchoate level that bubbles somewhere below rationality. He percolates in our social consciousness.
This is a man who challenged us to behave decently.
This is a man who, by doing so, was considered such a threat by the government that lumbering task forces were created just to disparage and belittle him.
This is a man who was shot down under mysterious, creepy circumstances, and who sensed the end was around the corner and carried on nonetheless, and who, in the years since, has become a malleable totem of beliefs of all stripes. Like all icons, citizens interpret Martin Luther King to their own ends, rather than commemorating the man's life and his extraordinary accomplishments.
Think about how you view Martin Luther King Day. Is it a historical milestone, a religious holiday, a time-out, a social reflection? Or is it a day like any other?
How would King himself view the holiday? Baptist minister and professor Michael Eric Dyson, whose book, "I May Not Get There With You: The True Martin Luther King, Jr.," paints King as a complex, continually evolving individual who was uncomfortable with being the front man for civil rights and suggested in an interview last year that King would be appalled at the "commodification" of his name and legacy.
After all, his image is being used to sell soft drinks. His heirs are squabbling over how big a "fee" to demand for a King memorial on the National Mall in Washington, and the Martin Luther King Center for Non-Violence is a commercial enterprise, licensing broadcast rights to the phrase "I have a dream."
Is there a true image of King, or do we see him in a variety of funhouse mirrors, distorted and slipping through our fingers? What would he have preferred?
More to the point, do we care what King preferred? He's no longer merely a human being; he's an icon, an idea, an empty vessel to be filled with our own aspirations. He means exactly what we want him to mean.
King himself disliked being so closely identified with his mission, believing he was just one of many working to achieve civil rights. The goal, keeping your eyes on the prize, was what mattered. "I may not get there with you," said King, "but I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the promised land."
Not black people, mind you; people. We're all on this bus.
By such powerful, ringing statements, King came to personify the movement whether he wanted to or not. He was certainly the last great public orator in American history.
He was no saint. The FBI made sure we all knew that. Even saints have human flaws. What was important was not that they slipped, but that they transcended these slips to embody the ideals of belief, in King's case, devotion to the concept of equal citizenship at the core of American democracy.
"I think that not only do saints make poor role models, they are incapable in one sense of identifying radically with those of us who are mere mortals," said Dyson.
"Martin Luther King Jr.'s mortality says to us that here's a figure who got up every day of his life facing tremendous odds and yet overcame them ... if King overcame them, certainly you and I can overcome those problems as well."
King's life is over; his work is not. Blacks have moved squarely into the middle class and in some cities -- such as King's home base of Atlanta --now control local politics and business. Some black politicians -- such as ex-Atlanta mayor Bill Campbell, the target of a federal corruption investigation -- are such an integral part of the power structure that they have become warped by it. At the same time, many black schools still fall behind others, and a disproportionate number of poor and homeless in America are non-white.
Some contemporary black churches, certainly, have given up on the American promise of political equality and have instead focussed on the American fever dream of material possessions and financial stability. Listen to the Rev. Al Sharpton and subtract finances from his demands and posturing, and what's left is just a gust of disturbed air.
All this means is that black politicians and institutions now have the freedom to be as ineffective as white editions.
Certain truths about life and liberty may be "self-evident," but that doesn't mean they don't need to be discussed. Alone among the world's holidays, a day devoted to the memory of Martin Luther King -- and more importantly, dedicated to shining a light on his work -- is a uniquely American and democratic ideal.
King and his work need to be continually evaluated and re-evaluated, and as a lightning rod for American introspection, his commemoration continues to make us good citizens. Maybe one day a year isn't enough.