by Thomas F. Jackson
In 1968, a united black community in Memphis
stepped forward to support 1,300 municipal sanitation workers as they
demanded higher wages, union recognition, and respect for black personhood
embodied in the slogan “I Am a Man!” Memphis’s black women organized tenant and
welfare unions, discovering pervasive hunger among the city’s poor and black
children. They demanded rights to food and medical care from a city
and medical establishment blind to their existence.
That same month, March 1968, 100 grassroots
organizations met in Atlanta to support Martin Luther King’s dream of a
poor people’s march on Washington. They pressed concrete demands for
economic justice under the slogan “Jobs or Income Now!” King celebrated the
“determination by poor people of all colors” to win their human rights.
“Established powers of rich America have deliberately exploited
poor people by isolating them in ethnic, nationality, religious
and racial groups,” the delegates declared.
So when King came to Memphis to support the
strike, a local labor and community struggle became intertwined with
his dream of mobilizing a national coalition strong enough to reorient
national priorities from imperial war in Vietnam to domestic
reconstruction, especially in America’s riot-torn cities. To non-poor
Americans, King called for a “revolution of values,” a move from
self-seeking to service, from property rights to human rights.
King’s
assassination—and the urban revolts that followed—led to a local Memphis
settlement that furthered the cause of public employee unionism. The Poor
People’s March nonviolently won small concessions in the
national food stamp program. But reporters covered the bickering and
squalor in the poor people’s tent city, rather than the movement’s detailed
demands for waging a real war on poverty. Marchers wanted guaranteed public
employment when the private sector failed, a raise in the federal minimum wage,
a national income floor for all families, and a national commitment to
reconstruct cities blighted by corporate disinvestment and white flight. And
they wanted poor people’s representation in urban renewal and social service
programs that had customarily benefited only businesses or the middle
class. King’s dreams reverberated back in the movements that had risen him up.
It is widely believed that King’s deep dedication
to workers’ rights and international human rights came late in life, when
cities burned, Vietnamese villagers fled American napalm, and King faced
stone-throwing Nazis in Chicago’s white working-class inner suburbs. But King
began his public ministry in Montgomery in 1956, dreaming of “a world in which
men will no longer take necessities from the masses to give luxuries to
the classes.” He demanded that imperial nations give up their
power and privileges over oppressed and colonized peoples struggling
against “segregation, political domination, and economic
exploitation”—whether they were in South Africa or South Alabama.
King’s commitments to economic justice
and workers’ rights are becoming more widely appreciated today as we
continue to confront all of the unresolved challenges King confronted in
his day.
Beyond Civil Rights
Around 1964, King announced that the movement had
moved “beyond civil rights.” Constitutional rights to free assembly, equality
in voting, and access to public accommodations had marched forward with little
cost to the nation, he said. Human rights—to dignified work, decent wages,
income support, and decent housing for all
Americans—would cost the nation billions of
dollars. In other speeches, however, King recognized that human rights
and civil rights were bound up with each other, part of a “Worldwide Human
Rights Revolution.”
The practical experience of building a movement had
already made these connections. In Montgomery’s struggle to desegregate
bus seating, for example, King heralded the American “right to protest for
right,” but discovered that it was inseparable from the human rights to work
and eat. Why? Hundreds of African Americans were fired or evicted or
denied public aid for expressing themselves politically, and King was
intimately involved in campaigns for their material relief. This pattern
continued throughout the 1960s. The southern struggle for rights became a
struggle against poverty long before Lyndon Johnson’s wars in Vietnam and on
poverty.
Similarly, in New York City in 1959, King joined A.
Philip Randolph and Malcolm X in supporting the white, black and Puerto
Rican workers of New York’s newly organized Local 1199. Over 3,000 hospital
workers—laundry workers, cafeteria workers, janitors and orderlies—struck
seven New York private hospitals. At the bottom of the new service economy they
were legally barred from collective bargaining; excluded from minimum wage
protections and unemployment compensation; and denied the medical insurance
that might give them access to the hospitals where they worked. Harlem’s black
community rallied to their defense. King cheered a struggle that transcended “a
fight for union rights” and had become a multiracial “fight for human rights.”
Today We Continue the Struggles
King’s commitments to economic justice and workers’
rights are becoming more widely appreciated today as we continue to
confront all of the unresolved challenges King confronted in his day.
Joblessness is still pervasive under the official unemployment statistics,
and wages remain too low to lift millions of people out of poverty.
Conservative politicians and globalizing corporations have
relentlessly chipped away at union rights and workplace safety.
Tattered safety nets have become even shoddier for poor people
who are not capable of earning. Forty-seven million Americans are,
medically, second-class citizens. Unequal landscapes of wealth and
opportunity in housing and schools still make the words “American apartheid” a
dirty but accurate epithet. And again, in a different part of the world,
our military wages a war of empire cloaked in robes of democratic
idealism. On the right, complacent religious leaders preach family
morality and personal responsibility, while neglecting our collective
moral commitments to materially supporting “the least of these.” But
across the country too, citizens are uncovering stones of hope and finding
new democratic determination. We have come a long way, but we have a
long way to go, as King would say. Lost ground and shattered dreams are
bearable, he would have preached, as we continue the struggles for
multiracial democracy, economic justice, and human dignity that were begun
long ago, under even more challenging circumstances than we face
today.
Thomas F. Jackson is Associate Professor of History
at the University of North Carolina Greensboro, and author of the prizewinning From
Civil Rights to Human Rights: Martin Luther King Jr. and the Struggle for
Economic Justice (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007)
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