"Letter from a Birmingham Jail"

Referring to “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” as such seems to understate its content and historical importance. The piece reads with the intimacy of a traditional letter, yet it’s the title’s reference to the setting that merits its worthiness. The importance of the place is that King must have reflected how he, a peaceful protester, arrived there. Although King states that the purpose of his letter is to respond to the letter of the eight clergymen who penned “A Call for Unity,” King’s self-reflection and ruminations on America’s history and society imbue the letter. Consequently, King’s letter does, at times, read with the subtle intimacy yet, at other moments, King soars to rhetorical acmes more appropriate for speeches, posits profound philosophical statements characteristic of scholarly articles, and unveils psychological and sociological truths in the vein of Freud, Hegel, and Erikson. Even more exemplary than his ideas is King’s ability to express his ideas in a compelling, lucid, and, at times, overpowering manner. In a way, the letter is perhaps the perfect format for King to express his sound and compelling convictions while exuding his vibrant and enrapturing personality. But while it would be valuable to focus exclusively on the techniques King employed in authoring the paragon of letters, it is also appropriate and necessary to discuss the ideas that King presents in this historical letter.

There are many reverberations in King’s letter. The most compelling is his defense of justice, and in the process of articulating the characteristics of justice and the process of manifesting it in society, King attacks many moderate ideals including the concept of peace, the paradigm of time, and the antipathy of extremism. King referred to his demonstrations as “nonviolent direct action” programs. Yet the authors of “A Call for Unity” urged African-Americans to “withdraw support from [the] demonstrations and to unite locally in working peacefully for a better Birmingham,” as a means of pointing out that the demonstrations like those lead by King were not peaceful. To remedy this apparent conflict of concepts, King characterizes two kinds of peace: negative peace and positive peace. King defines negative peace as “the absence of tension,” which is a characteristic of order as opposed to justice. Consequently, negative peace retains the status quo. King and his followers attempted to alter the status quo using the more enlightened positive peace, or the presence of justice, as a method. King understood that order and justice are not synonymous and that enacting justice requires conflict and tension is also a characteristic of the ancient Greek understanding of the world. In fact, King makes several allusions to Socrates. The necessity of tension and its relation to Greek thought is articulated by King when he states:

“Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, so must we see the need for nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood.”

King’s relation of the process of the individual “creative analysis” to the social “understanding of brotherhood” is arresting in its intelligence and alarming in its poignancy. King calls for knowledge (understanding) and love (brotherhood), two of the most important topics for early Greek thinkers. The difference between the views of Socrates and King is the method. Both, of course, are nonviolent, but they work on different levels. The Socratic method is best reserved for individuals. King demands a more pragmatic approach, thus his method is more effective at the societal level. Nonetheless, the essence of each thinker’s thought is founded on the idea that strife is necessary to achieve ideals. King’s ideal in this case is justice, yet he does not ignore the more Socratic love and knowledge.

It is very interesting, though certainly not uncanny, that despite the lack of violence in both methods, each thinker encountered violent reactions. This was also recognized by King. In fact, he uses the trial of Socrates to dismiss the charge of the clergymen that King should be held reprehensible because his methods, though peaceful, led to violence. King retorts “isn’t this like condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to truth and his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by the misguided populace in which they made him drink hemlock?” Although King’s end was not the result of a trial, imbibing hemlock is an appropriate symbol for his assassination. King was cognizant of the looming threat of assassination during what would be his final days, but like Socrates, he was not deterred. I do not have the historical knowledge to understand exactly what King’s thoughts were, but it is possible to suppose that King’s humble understanding of the necessity of conflict to actualize justice influenced his willingness to endanger his life for the sake of justice. King clearly understood his role in bringing about justice, and if he did not include himself in the potentially violent world of tension, the possibility of acquiring justice through peaceful means would be jeopardized. King’s awareness of the threat against his life makes him a true martyr and puts him in select group with Socrates and Christ, another influential figure on King’s life.

King’s attack on the common American conception of time was the result of the assertion by the clergymen that King and his followers should be more patient and take their battle to the courts and not the streets. They state, “We recognize the natural impatience of people who feel that their hopes are slow in being realized. But we are convinced that these demonstrations are unwise and untimely.” King’s response is relatively prosaic yet keen: “Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively.” King doesn’t quite indict American veneration of time as a means of subjugating African-Americans, but he could; the “tragic misconception of time” is Americans’ passive conception. Time itself will not bring justice, action will. Time will merely stand idly by.

It is accurate to label King a religious extremist as many of his detractors did. In the post-9/11 era, this would sound like a scathing reprobation of King, and King did, in fact, take such a label as noxious. King, however, in his letter establishes his acceptance of the term “extremist” by rhetorically stating, “was not Jesus an extremist for love… was not Amos an extremist for justice… was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel… was not Martin Luther an extremist… and John Bunyan… and Abraham Lincoln… and Thomas Jefferson?” This profound attack on the moderate view of extremism points out that great religious and American figures could be charged with extremism. King does not claim to have the credentials of these figures, but he does use their history as a way to justify his radical views. King is still, however, aware that “extremism” is tinged with violence and asks, “will we be extremists for hate or for love?” King, of course, considers himself to be in the latter camp.

To articulate the soundness of King’s arguments and the almost poetic manner in which King expresses them warrants a book-length analysis. Thus this short blog post only superficially evaluates a few of the meritorious aspects of King’s work. What this post attempts to express is my surprise that such awesome thought is expressed in letter form. I wish I could better express my fascination with the form used, but in many ways, King’s piece defies expression. The thoughts can be analyzed and the devices and methods elucidated, but the pathos of the piece can only be felt through reading King’s own words. It is the same problem encountered through translating great works from one language to another: the words can be expressed, but the feeling in its exactitude cannot.

Perhaps my awe is partly the result of my misunderstanding of the greatness of King prior to reading the letter. I knew King was passionate and that few speechmakers in history can claim to have mastered the art as well as King. I was not, however, aware of King’s erudition. In a mere 10 pages, King must cite at least twenty different thinkers (this feat is amplified by the fact that he wrote the letter in prison sans the opportunity to reference books). His understanding of history and the relation of the individual to society is that of a scholar and a great thinker. This passion not only comes from a clear interest in the plight of African-Americans (after all, he claims in his letter that he would have delivered the same fraternal love for the Jews were he to find himself in Germany under the Third Reich). His passion also comes from great confidence, a confidence that comes from a very clear understanding of the world. I can only compare such an understanding to the Greek worldview, and I wish to delve into the similarities in the future. Expect a more refined post on the subject about a year from now.