See photos of the event here.
REMARKS BY THE
PRESIDENT
AT THE “LET FREEDOM
RING” CEREMONY
COMMEMORATING THE
50TH ANNIVERSARY OF
THE MARCH ON
WASHINGTON
Lincoln Memorial
3:07 P.M. EDT
THE PRESIDENT: To the King
family, who have sacrificed and inspired so much; to President Clinton;
President Carter; Vice President Biden and Jill; fellow Americans.
Five decades ago today, Americans
came to this honored place to lay claim to a promise made at our
founding: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are
created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable
rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
In 1963, almost 200 years after
those words were set to paper, a full century after a great war was fought and
emancipation proclaimed, that promise -- those truths -- remained unmet.
And so they came by the thousands from every corner of our country, men and
women, young and old, blacks who longed for freedom and whites who could no
longer accept freedom for themselves while witnessing the subjugation of
others.
Across the land, congregations sent
them off with food and with prayer. In the middle of the night, entire
blocks of Harlem came out to wish them well. With the few dollars they
scrimped from their labor, some bought tickets and boarded buses, even if they
couldn’t always sit where they wanted to sit. Those with less money
hitchhiked or walked. They were seamstresses and steelworkers, students
and teachers, maids and Pullman porters. They shared simple meals and
bunked together on floors. And then, on a hot summer day, they assembled
here, in our nation’s capital, under the shadow of the Great Emancipator -- to
offer testimony of injustice, to petition their government for redress, and to
awaken America’s long-slumbering conscience.
We rightly and best remember Dr.
King’s soaring oratory that day, how he gave mighty voice to the quiet hopes of
millions; how he offered a salvation path for oppressed and oppressors
alike. His words belong to the ages, possessing a power and prophecy
unmatched in our time.
But we would do well to recall that
day itself also belonged to those ordinary people whose names never appeared in
the history books, never got on TV. Many had gone to segregated schools
and sat at segregated lunch counters. They lived in towns where they
couldn’t vote and cities where their votes didn’t matter. They were
couples in love who couldn’t marry, soldiers who fought for freedom abroad that
they found denied to them at home. They had seen loved ones beaten, and
children fire-hosed, and they had every reason to lash out in anger, or resign
themselves to a bitter fate.
And yet they chose a different
path. In the face of hatred, they prayed for their tormentors. In
the face of violence, they stood up and sat in, with the moral force of
nonviolence. Willingly, they went to jail to protest unjust laws, their
cells swelling with the sound of freedom songs. A lifetime of indignities
had taught them that no man can take away the dignity and grace that God grants
us. They had learned through hard experience what Frederick Douglass once
taught -- that freedom is not given, it must be won, through struggle and
discipline, persistence and faith.
That was the spirit they brought
here that day. That was the spirit young people like John Lewis brought
to that day. That was the spirit that they carried with them, like a
torch, back to their cities and their neighborhoods. That steady flame of
conscience and courage that would sustain them through the campaigns to come --
through boycotts and voter registration drives and smaller marches far from the
spotlight; through the loss of four little girls in Birmingham, and the carnage
of the Edmund Pettus Bridge, and the agony of Dallas and California and Memphis.
Through setbacks and heartbreaks and gnawing doubt, that flame of
justice flickered; it never died.
And because they kept marching,
America changed. Because they marched, a Civil Rights law was
passed. Because they marched, a Voting Rights law was signed.
Because they marched, doors of opportunity and education swung open so their
daughters and sons could finally imagine a life for themselves beyond washing
somebody else’s laundry or shining somebody else’s shoes. (Applause.)
Because they marched, city councils changed and state legislatures changed, and
Congress changed, and, yes, eventually, the White House changed.
(Applause.)
Because they marched, America
became more free and more fair -- not just for African Americans, but for women
and Latinos, Asians and Native Americans; for Catholics, Jews, and Muslims; for
gays, for Americans with a disability. America changed for you and for
me. and the entire world drew strength from that example, whether the
young people who watched from the other side of an Iron Curtain and would
eventually tear down that wall, or the young people inside South Africa who
would eventually end the scourge of apartheid. (Applause.)
Those are the victories they won,
with iron wills and hope in their hearts. That is the transformation that
they wrought, with each step of their well-worn shoes. That’s the debt
that I and millions of Americans owe those maids, those laborers, those
porters, those secretaries; folks who could have run a company maybe if they
had ever had a chance; those white students who put themselves in harm’s way,
even though they didn't have; those Japanese Americans who recalled their own
internment; those Jewish Americans who had survived the Holocaust; people who
could have given up and given in, but kept on keeping on, knowing that “weeping
may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Applause.)
On the battlefield of justice, men
and women without rank or wealth or title or fame would liberate us all in ways
that our children now take for granted, as people of all colors and creeds live
together and learn together and walk together, and fight alongside one another,
and love one another, and judge one another by the content of our character in
this greatest nation on Earth. (Applause.)
To dismiss the magnitude of this
progress -- to suggest, as some sometimes do, that little has changed -- that
dishonors the courage and the sacrifice of those who paid the price to march in
those years. (Applause.) Medgar Evers, James Chaney, Andrew
Goodman, Michael Schwerner, Martin Luther King Jr. -- they did not die in
vain. (Applause.) Their victory was great.
But we would dishonor those heroes
as well to suggest that the work of this nation is somehow complete. The
arc of the moral universe may bend towards justice, but it doesn’t bend on its
own. To secure the gains this country has made requires constant
vigilance, not complacency. Whether by challenging those who erect new
barriers to the vote, or ensuring that the scales of justice work equally for
all, and the criminal justice system is not simply a pipeline from underfunded
schools to overcrowded jails, it requires vigilance. (Applause.)
And we'll suffer the occasional
setback. But we will win these fights. This country has changed too
much. (Applause.) People of goodwill, regardless of party, are too
plentiful for those with ill will to change history’s currents.
(Applause.)
In some ways, though, the securing
of civil rights, voting rights, the eradication of legalized discrimination --
the very significance of these victories may have obscured a second goal of the
March. For the men and women who gathered 50 years ago were not there in
search of some abstract ideal. They were there seeking jobs as well as
justice -- (applause) -- not just the absence of oppression but the presence of
economic opportunity. (Applause.)
For what does it profit a man, Dr.
King would ask, to sit at an integrated lunch counter if he can’t afford the
meal? This idea -- that one’s liberty is linked to one’s livelihood; that
the pursuit of happiness requires the dignity of work, the skills to find work,
decent pay, some measure of material security -- this idea was not new.
Lincoln himself understood the Declaration of Independence in such terms -- as
a promise that in due time, “the weights should be lifted from the shoulders of
all men, and that all should have an equal chance.”
And Dr. King explained that the
goals of African Americans were identical to working people of all races:
“Decent wages, fair working conditions, livable housing, old-age security,
health and welfare measures, conditions in which families can grow, have
education for their children, and respect in the community.”
What King was describing has been
the dream of every American. It's what's lured for centuries new arrivals
to our shores. And it’s along this second dimension -- of economic
opportunity, the chance through honest toil to advance one’s station in life --
where the goals of 50 years ago have fallen most short.
Yes, there have been examples of
success within black America that would have been unimaginable a half century
ago. But as has already been noted, black unemployment has remained
almost twice as high as white unemployment, Latino unemployment close
behind. The gap in wealth between races has not lessened, it's
grown. And as President Clinton indicated, the position of all working
Americans, regardless of color, has eroded, making the dream Dr. King described
even more elusive.
For over a decade, working
Americans of all races have seen their wages and incomes stagnate, even as
corporate profits soar, even as the pay of a fortunate few explodes.
Inequality has steadily risen over the decades. Upward mobility has
become harder. In too many communities across this country, in cities and
suburbs and rural hamlets, the shadow of poverty casts a pall over our youth,
their lives a fortress of substandard schools and diminished prospects,
inadequate health care and perennial violence.
And so as we mark this anniversary,
we must remind ourselves that the measure of progress for those who marched 50
years ago was not merely how many blacks could join the ranks of
millionaires. It was whether this country would admit all people who are
willing to work hard regardless of race into the ranks of a middle-class
life. (Applause.)
The test was not, and never has
been, whether the doors of opportunity are cracked a bit wider for a few.
It was whether our economic system provides a fair shot for the many -- for the
black custodian and the white steelworker, the immigrant dishwasher and the
Native American veteran. To win that battle, to answer that call -- this
remains our great unfinished business.
We shouldn’t fool ourselves.
The task will not be easy. Since 1963, the economy has changed. The
twin forces of technology and global competition have subtracted those jobs
that once provided a foothold into the middle class -- reduced the bargaining
power of American workers. And our politics has suffered.
Entrenched interests, those who benefit from an unjust status quo, resisted any
government efforts to give working families a fair deal -- marshaling an army
of lobbyists and opinion makers to argue that minimum wage increases or stronger
labor laws or taxes on the wealthy who could afford it just to fund crumbling
schools, that all these things violated sound economic principles. We'd
be told that growing inequality was a price for a growing economy, a measure of
this free market; that greed was good and compassion ineffective, and those
without jobs or health care had only themselves to blame.
And then, there were those elected
officials who found it useful to practice the old politics of division, doing
their best to convince middle-class Americans of a great untruth -- that
government was somehow itself to blame for their growing economic insecurity;
that distant bureaucrats were taking their hard-earned dollars to benefit the
welfare cheat or the illegal immigrant.
And then, if we're honest with
ourselves, we'll admit that during the course of 50 years, there were times
when some of us claiming to push for change lost our way. The anguish of
assassinations set off self-defeating riots. Legitimate grievances
against police brutality tipped into excuse-making for criminal behavior.
Racial politics could cut both ways, as the transformative message of unity and
brotherhood was drowned out by the language of recrimination. And what
had once been a call for equality of opportunity, the chance for all Americans
to work hard and get ahead was too often framed as a mere desire for government
support -- as if we had no agency in our own liberation, as if poverty was an
excuse for not raising your child, and the bigotry of others was reason to give
up on yourself.
All of that history is how progress
stalled. That's how hope was diverted. It's how our country
remained divided. But the good news is, just as was true in 1963, we now
have a choice. We can continue down our current path, in which the gears of
this great democracy grind to a halt and our children accept a life of lower
expectations; where politics is a zero-sum game where a few do very well while
struggling families of every race fight over a shrinking economic pie -- that’s
one path. Or we can have the courage to change.
The March on Washington teaches us
that we are not trapped by the mistakes of history; that we are masters of our
fate. But it also teaches us that the promise of this nation will only be
kept when we work together. We’ll have to reignite the embers of empathy
and fellow feeling, the coalition of conscience that found expression in this
place 50 years ago.
And I believe that spirit is there,
that truth force inside each of us. I see it when a white mother recognizes
her own daughter in the face of a poor black child. I see it when the
black youth thinks of his own grandfather in the dignified steps of an elderly
white man. It’s there when the native-born recognizing that striving
spirit of the new immigrant; when the interracial couple connects the pain of a
gay couple who are discriminated against and understands it as their own.
That’s where courage comes from --
when we turn not from each other, or on each other, but towards one another,
and we find that we do not walk alone. That’s where courage comes from.
(Applause.)
And with that courage, we can stand
together for good jobs and just wages. With that courage, we can stand
together for the right to health care in the richest nation on Earth for every
person. (Applause.) With that courage, we can stand together for
the right of every child, from the corners of Anacostia to the hills of
Appalachia, to get an education that stirs the mind and captures the spirit,
and prepares them for the world that awaits them. (Applause.)
With that courage, we can feed the
hungry, and house the homeless, and transform bleak wastelands of poverty into
fields of commerce and promise.
America, I know the road will be
long, but I know we can get there. Yes, we will stumble, but I know we’ll
get back up. That’s how a movement happens. That’s how history
bends. That's how when somebody is faint of heart, somebody else brings
them along and says, come on, we’re marching. (Applause.)
There’s a reason why so many who
marched that day, and in the days to come, were young -- for the young are
unconstrained by habits of fear, unconstrained by the conventions of what
is. They dared to dream differently, to imagine something better.
And I am convinced that same imagination, the same hunger of purpose stirs in
this generation.
We might not face the same dangers
of 1963, but the fierce urgency of now remains. We may never duplicate
the swelling crowds and dazzling procession of that day so long ago -- no one
can match King’s brilliance -- but the same flame that lit the heart of all who
are willing to take a first step for justice, I know that flame remains.
(Applause.)
That tireless teacher who gets to
class early and stays late and dips into her own pocket to buy supplies because
she believes that every child is her charge -- she’s marching.
(Applause.)
That successful businessman who
doesn't have to but pays his workers a fair wage and then offers a shot to a
man, maybe an ex-con who is down on his luck -- he’s marching.
(Applause.)
The mother who pours her love into
her daughter so that she grows up with the confidence to walk through the same
door as anybody’s son -- she’s marching. (Applause.)
The father who realizes the most
important job he’ll ever have is raising his boy right, even if he didn't have
a father -- especially if he didn't have a father at home -- he’s
marching. (Applause.)
The battle-scarred veterans who
devote themselves not only to helping their fellow warriors stand again, and
walk again, and run again, but to keep serving their country when they come
home -- they are marching. (Applause.)
Everyone who realizes what those
glorious patriots knew on that day -- that change does not come from
Washington, but to Washington; that change has always been built on our
willingness, We The People, to take on the mantle of citizenship -- you are
marching. (Applause.)
And that’s the lesson of our
past. That's the promise of tomorrow -- that in the face of impossible
odds, people who love their country can change it. That when millions of
Americans of every race and every region, every faith and every station, can
join together in a spirit of brotherhood, then those mountains will be made
low, and those rough places will be made plain, and those crooked places, they
straighten out towards grace, and we will vindicate the faith of those who
sacrificed so much and live up to the true meaning of our creed, as one nation,
under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. (Applause.)
END 3:36
P.M. EDT
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