I want to address a fundamental misunderstanding that seems to be directed at just about everyone here at Open Left-the notion that just because we frequently critricize Obama, we therefore hate him. This is, quite frankly, such an absurd notion on its face that I've been remise in not addressing it sooner. So let me be as clear as possible: To criticize a politician is not necessarily to attack him. Indeed, it is simply the most basic duty of a citizen, and a necessary precondition for the politician being criticized to reach their full potential.
Our leaders are not kings, indeed, they are not even our leaders. They are followers of the true leaders-those who recognize injustice and refuse to accept it.
Left: Civil Rights marchers paid the price of freedom in Selma, Alabama a week before LBJ took up their cause and introduced the Voting Rights Act, using their rallying cry, "We Shall Overcome." Congressman John Lewis was among those beaten.
Officeholders, on the other hand, may not be true leaders, but they are (1) public servants and (2) official leaders. On both counts, listening and responding to public criticism is, quite simply, an integral part of the job they've taken on. Bad things happen when they forget this-but worse things happen when the people themselves forget this. And that's what we seem to be in danger of, when Obama supporters start treating him like a man who can do no wrong, a man that none of us should criticize. We rightly criticize coservatives for taking this same attitude toward palapable fools, but the atttitude itself is fust as flawed when directed toward far superior men.
And that's where Lynodon Johnson comes it. You see, the Vietnam War was such a terrible event in our history, such a long, drawn-out, bloody crime, that it's difficult for most people to remember all the other things that Lyndon Johnson did-the things that, unlike the Vietnam War, he actually believed in. In order to really understand how bad the Vietnam War was, morally and political for our nation, you have to appreciate how good Lyndon Johnson really was. He was, in terms of his domestic record, the second greatest President of the 20th Century-second only to FDR. Part of his greatness was born of his own intentions, and part of it came from his openness to others.
I planned this diary yesterday afternoon, and then, in the evening, Bill Moyers made it immensely easier by talking precisely about the incident I was going to focus on, and how Johnson got there-that is, LBJ's speech introducing the Voting Rights Act, in which he took up the Civil Rights Movement's rallying cry, and said, on behalf of the entire nation, "We Shall Overcome."
Taking advantage of this fortuitous coincidence, I'll let Bill Moyers-who was a White House staffer at the time-carry the ball, striking a near-perfect balance:
BILL MOYERS:... Many many years ago, I was a young White House Assistant, when President Johnson at first wanted Martin Luther King to call off the marching, demonstrations, and protests. The civil rights movement had met massive resistance in the south, and the south, because of the seniority system, controlled congress, making it virtually impossible for congress to enact laws giving full citizenship to black Americans, no matter how desperate their lives. LBJ worried that the mounting demonstrations were hardening white resistance.
He had been the master of the Senate, the great persuader, who could twist your arm with such flair and flattery you thought he was actually doing you a favor by wrenching it from its socket. He reckoned that with a little time he could twist enough arms in Congress to end, or neutralize, the power of die-hard racists - all of them, including some of his old mentors, white supremacists who threatened to bring the government, if not the country, to its knees before they would see blacks eat at the same restaurants, go to the same schools, drink from the same fountains, and live in the same neighborhoods as whites.
As the pressure intensified on each side, Johnson wanted King to wait a little longer and give him a chance to bring Congress around by hook or crook. But Martin Luther King said his people had already waited too long. He talked about the murders and lynchings, the churches set on fire, children brutalized, the law defied, men and women humiliated, their lives exhausted, their hearts broken. LBJ listened, as intently as I ever saw him listen. He listened, and then he put his hand on Martin Luther King's shoulder, and said, in effect: "OK. You go out there Dr. King and keep doing what you're doing, and make it possible for me to do the right thing." Lyndon Johnson was no racist but he had not been a civil rights hero, either. Now, as president, he came down on the side of civil disobedience, believing it might quicken America's conscience until the cry for justice became irresistible, enabling him to turn Congress. So King marched and Johnson maneuvered and Congress folded.
NEWS COVERAGE: President Johnson calls for all Americans to back what he calls a turning point in history.
BILL MOYERS: The Civil Rights Act of 1964 ended segregation in public places.
MARCHERS: "We shall overcome...
BILL MOYERS: But they weren't done. King kept on marching, this time for the right to vote, and once again Johnson kept his word, and did the right thing. As one of his young assistants, I stood on the floor of the House that ides of March when morality and politics converged, and watched the faces of congress transfixed...mesmerized... knowing they were riding the surf of history as the president of the United States enlisted all of us in the cause.
LYNDON JOHNSON: It's all of us, who must overcome the crippling legacy of bigotry and injustice. And we shall overcome.
BILL MOYERS: As he finished, Congress stood and thunderous applause shook the chamber. Johnson would soon sign into law the Voting Rights Act of 1965 and black people were no longer second class citizens. Martin Luther King had marched and preached and witnessed for this day. Countless ordinary people had put their bodies on the line for it, been berated, bullied and beaten, only to rise, organize and struggle on, against the dogs and guns, the bias and burning crosses. Take nothing from them; their courage is their legacy. But take nothing from the president who once had seen the light but dimly, as through a dark glass - and now did the right thing. Lyndon Johnson threw the full weight of his office on the side of justice. Of course the movement had come first, watered by the blood of so many, championed bravely now by the preacher turned prophet who would himself soon be martyred. But there is no inevitability to history, someone has to seize and turn it. With these words at the right moment - "we shall overcome" - Lyndon Johnson transcended race and color, and history, too - reminding us that a president matters, and so do we.
This was Johnson's-and America's-finest hour, and it's the true measure of classical Greek tragedy that it should be all but forgotten due to how differently Johnson reacted to the issue of the Vietnam War-a war he did not believe, but that he felt he had to fight, or risk losing the political power to accomplish anything else, or even, possibly, risk beng impeached. Because it should not be forgotten, I'd like to quote some passages from Johnson speech, which was given shortly after the first Selma-to-Montgomery march had been stopped by a bloody police riot at the Edmond Pettis Bridge-an event known as "Bloody Sunday."
One week later, before the third, and ultimately successful march was held, Johnson gave the following speech-in effect letting the marchers know that they had already won over the nation.
I speak tonight for the dignity of man and the destiny of Democracy. I urge every member of both parties, Americans of all religions and of all colors, from every section of this country, to join me in that cause.
At times, history and fate meet at a single time in a single place to shape a turning point in man's unending search for freedom. So it was at Lexington and Concord. So it was a century ago at Appomattox. So it was last week in Selma, Alabama. There, long suffering men and women peacefully protested the denial of their rights as Americans. Many of them were brutally assaulted. One good man--a man of God--was killed.
There is no cause for pride in what has happened in Selma. There is no cause for self-satisfaction in the long denial of equal rights of millions of Americans. But there is cause for hope and for faith in our Democracy in what is happening here tonight. For the cries of pain and the hymns and protests of oppressed people have summoned into convocation all the majesty of this great government--the government of the greatest nation on earth. Our mission is at once the oldest and the most basic of this country--to right wrong, to do justice, to serve man. In our time we have come to live with the moments of great crises. Our lives have been marked with debate about great issues, issues of war and peace, issues of prosperity and depression.
But rarely in any time does an issue lay bare the secret heart of America itself. Rarely are we met with a challenge, not to our growth or abundance, or our welfare or our security, but rather to the values and the purposes and the meaning of our beloved nation. The issue of equal rights for American Negroes is such an issue. And should we defeat every enemy, and should we double our wealth and conquer the stars, and still be unequal to this issue, then we will have failed as a people and as a nation. For, with a country as with a person, "what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"
There is no Negro problem. There is no Southern problem. There is no Northern problem. There is only an American problem.
And we are met here tonight as Americans--not as Democrats or Republicans; we're met here as Americans to solve that problem. This was the first nation in the history of the world to be founded with a purpose.
The great phrases of that purpose still sound in every American heart, North and South: "All men are created equal." "Government by consent of the governed." "Give me liberty or give me death." And those are not just clever words, and those are not just empty theories. In their name Americans have fought and died for two centuries and tonight around the world they stand there as guardians of our liberty risking their lives. Those words are promised to every citizen that he shall share in the dignity of man. This dignity cannot be found in a man's possessions. It cannot be found in his power or in his position. It really rests on his right to be treated as a man equal in opportunity to all others. It says that he shall share in freedom. He shall choose his leaders, educate his children, provide for his family according to his ability and his merits as a human being.
To apply any other test, to deny a man his hopes because of his color or race or his religion or the place of his birth is not only to do injustice, it is to deny Americans and to dishonor the dead who gave their lives for American freedom. Our fathers believed that if this noble view of the rights of man was to flourish it must be rooted in democracy. This most basic right of all was the right to choose your own leaders. The history of this country in large measure is the history of expansion of the right to all of our people.
Many of the issues of civil rights are very complex and most difficult. But about this there can and should be no argument: every American citizen must have an equal right to vote....
The Constitution says that no person shall be kept from voting because of his race or his color.
We have all sworn an oath before God to support and to defend that Constitution. We must now act in obedience to that oath. Wednesday, I will send to Congress a law designed to eliminate illegal barriers to the right to vote. The broad principles of that bill will be in the hands of the Democratic and Republican leaders tomorrow....
This bill will strike down restrictions to voting in all elections, federal, state and local, which have been used to deny Negroes the right to vote....
The command of the Constitution is plain. There is no moral issue. It is wrong--deadly wrong--to deny any of your fellow Americans the right to vote in this country.
There is no issue of state's rights or national rights. There is only the struggle for human rights. I have not the slightest doubt what will be your answer....
But even if we pass this bill the battle will not be over. What happened in Selma is part of a far larger movement which reaches into every section and state of America. It is the effort of American Negroes to secure for themselves the full blessings of American life. Their cause must be our cause too. Because it's not just Negroes, but really it's all of us, who must overcome the crippling legacy of bigotry and injustice.
And we shall overcome....
I remember hearing that speech as a young teenager. It was one of the few times-indeed, perhaps the only time-when a President's speech has moved me to tears. First, it sent shivers down my spine. Then, it moved me to tears. I have no doubt that Lyndon Johnson was a great man and a great President, in part because of that speech, and the legislation that followed from it. But classic Greek tragedies only befall great men, and within a couple of years, I would be one of those who marched against the Vietnam War, and chanted, among other things, "Hey! Hey! LBJ! How many kids did you kill today?" I regret chanting that, not because it was wrong. I regret chanting that, because it was necessary in response to a great man who had lost his way.
As a result, I shall always deem it necessary to speak out and criticize our leaders, and do so sooner rather than later. It is a dire mistake to "give our leaders the benefit of the doubt," when silence betrays our own conscience, and potentially paves the way for enormous folly. This is, if anything, all the more true for a leader who is "one of our own." I have never felt the degree of respect for a President that I felt for Johnson after that speech, and after he signed the Voting Rights Act that that speech introduced. And I have never felt more betrayed by a President, either, after he dug in his heels on Vietnam.
So, with that past in mind, please be assured that whatever criticism I have today, of Barack Obama or any other Democratic leader, is only a pale echo of the criticism I had of LBJ. They have, after all, not fallen nearly so far. They have never come close to his heights. I may never be able to change that. But I will do everything in my power to prevent them from falling to his depths.
That is my simple duty as a citizen of the United States.
