Reflections on MLK Day
The beautiful new sculpture “The Embrace” by artist Hank Willis Thomas honoring Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his wife Coretta Scott King, got me thinking about the way things have and haven’t changed, and the overarching need to hold on to one another.
At the risk of sounding naïve, I admit I long for the time when Jews and Blacks were a solid block joined by a commonality of purpose: to fight against racism, antisemitism, and all forms of hatred and intolerance. That certainly seemed the case when I was growing up in New York. Our rabbi used many a sermon to talk about racial injustice. During Passover Seders, the family would veer into passionate discussions about racial segregation and, later, the war on poverty. Perhaps, in the fifties, there was such proximity to the Holocaust that Jews fully understood the consequences of unchecked bigotry. Perhaps African-Americans, too, knew that allies could help tear down the walls that kept their people enslaved in one way or another for more than a century. Of course, reality was likely more nuanced, but as a child, I incorporated Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s message: "We must all learn to live together as brothers, or perish together as fools."
When I was doing research for my upcoming book, In the Wake of Madness: My Family’s Escape from the Nazis, I encountered many lesser-known historical figures whose words and actions I admired. Among them was Supreme Court Justice Frank Murphy, an Irish Catholic raised by immigrant parents. When Japanese were rounded up and sent to internment camps in 1942, the action, Murphy wrote, reflected “the ugly abyss of racism,” much like "the abhorrent and despicable treatment of minority groups by the dictatorial tyrannies which this nation is now pledged to destroy." In 1944, the case of Korematzu vs. the United States came before the Supreme Court, challenging the policy of incarcerating Japanese Americans, including citizens. Here is part of Justice Murphy’s powerful dissent:
“All residents of this nation are kin in some way by blood or culture to a foreign land. Yet they are primarily and necessarily a part of the new and distinct civilization of the United States. They must, accordingly, be treated at all times as the heirs of the American experiment, and as entitled to all the rights and freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution." Murphy may have overlooked indigenous peoples, but otherwise captured the essence of who we are – or, at least, who were are supposed to be.
Even as the United States headed towards victory in WW2, Murphy was alarmed at continuing undercurrents of antisemitism. While Jews would be the first victims, he warned, “the course of history has shown unmistakably that one form of hatred breeds another. Hate-maddened people would turn on a second minority and then on a third. Each of us in America is a member of a minority in some way or other. Thus we would see our country torn into a multitude of warring groups.”
On the day marking the work and life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and all who have tried to make strides towards justice, however lamentably incremental they may be, I wish we could heed those words. The very idea that White Nationalism or antisemitism or any kind of “othering” could be considered a “political” issue makes me crazy. I recognize that every group has committed atrocities, that no nation of the world has an unblemished history – and that no community is monolithic. But, eyes wide open, we should still recognize our commonalities and have the courage to speak up against all injustice – even when it’s hard or inconvenient.
“The ultimate measure of a man,” Dr. King said, “is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”