I am blessed to have been among thousands of white college students who participated in the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. Watching and reading with a sense of nostalgia the media coverage commemorating the 50th anniversary of the march has reminded me of my strong belief that the enduring significance of the march cannot be fully understood if we focus primarily on its tangible accomplishments, important though they were. Clearly, the march was a key factor in the enactment of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and the Fair Housing Act of 1968. And although it doesn't get sufficient credit for other legislation, the momentum it created was at least partially responsible for immigration reform, the war on poverty, and Medicare and Medicaid.
But to judge the impact of the March only in terms of tangible accomplishments such as these pieces of legislation misses, I believe, the most important consequence of the march -- it empowered and inspired people at a deeper emotional level than ever before at a moment when anger and frustration threatened both the sense of hope and the courageous non-violence that had characterized the Civil Rights Movement to that point.
There had been brutal events in the spring and summer leading up to the March:
- Governor George Wallace had stood in the schoolhouse door at the University of Alabama to deny admission to black students.
On the day of the March, James Farmer, the head of CORE, was in jail in Plaquemines Parish, LA, where Leander Perez ruled with a vicious and racist iron hand.
Coming on the heels of the violent responses earlier to the sit-ins and the freedom rides, an increasing number of black people -- and some white people, primarily northern college students -- were being swayed by the more militant and angry rhetoric of Malcolm X. In the days before the March, skeptics and opponents--and even some supporters -- were anxious about possible violence and a low turn-out. Some feared -- and some hoped -- that, Bayard Rustin's organizational skill notwithstanding, it had the potential to sound the death knell for the non-violent aspect of the movement. Questions abounded:
- Would there be violence during the March?
Well, we know the answers:
- It was a peaceful, even festive, March.
We remain a long way from total victory, but, to me, the sense that victory is inevitable is the true meaning and significance of the March, and it is what should steel us for the rocky road that still remains.
Michael Wenger is a Senior Fellow at the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies. His recently published memoir is entitled My Black Family, My White Privilege: A White Man's Journey Through the Nation's Racial Minefield.