On the interrelation of the arts, spirituality, and social change:
DR. VINCENT HARDING: Often when I'm thinking about these things, I'm thinking about the music that came out of the freedom movement. I'm remembering literally what people looked like when they were singing these freedom songs. I have constant memories that people, in a sense, were singing their freedom. They were indicating by the songs themselves that they were determined to move towards freedom. The creativity of song was a part of the creativity that they were exhibiting in the Southern freedom movement particularly, in creating a new society. I see creativity not simply in creating particular works of art, or creativity in doing a particular piece of music; creativity was expressing itself by people saying, "We can build a better world. This is our creative contribution to this society and to this world. And we're going to let you know how we feel about this by singing the songs that we are creating or re-creating."
One of the things that comes to my mind, for instance, would be Mrs. Fanny Lou Hamer taking the songs of the Christian religious tradition, like "Go Tell It on the Mountain," to "Let my people go." She takes an old African-American Christmas spiritual and brings the Hebrew story of "Let my people go" into that and brings the struggle of black people in America in our own time into that. I was fascinated one day back in what seems like a long-ago time now, when the Berlin Wall was being dismantled, to hear people on top of that wall, taking those bricks down and singing in German that same song. So for me, creativity is in the acts of creating a new society, and the songs that came out of the acts -- all of that is part of the creativity.
On art and Martin Luther King:
Martin King was an artist in a whole variety of ways. One of the ways is his use of the language of the people -- taking the language of the people, returning it to them as they had given it to him, and creating in many cases a higher form that they could know was actually theirs, and therefore they could feel very right about participating in the creative action with him, the action of transformation. It was in that language, in that sensing that change was possible, in that envisioning of new possibilities, in that dreaming that we saw the artist in him coming through.
On Dr. King and the freedom songs:For King, the songs were as much a part of his life as breathing. It was nothing that had to be added on or brought in; he didn't have to say, "Oh, we ought to have some songs in this mass meeting." There was no way you could meet without singing. There was no way in which you could organize without singing. Singing became central to the whole experience. I remember back in the days when the Nation of Islam was in an earlier form, when they were very determined to be as unlike Christian churches as possible and decided that they weren't going to sing. I was talking to a friend of mine from Vietnam who had been involved in the struggle against French colonialism, and I said to him, "John, have you ever known a freedom movement where there was no singing?" And he said, "I can't think of one." You simply have to have song in order to work for freedom. That was a part of Martin; he simply had to have that. In a way, you could say that his preaching was a kind of singing; that was his artistry. But all of that was just almost not necessary to be thought out in categories. All of that flowed together as a part of the art of creation.
I have long been very moved by one of the songs that was used in the movement, "This Little Light of Mine," which a lot of people knew from Sunday school and other settings, but which took on a whole meaning. I'm moved by what happened in Selma when they used that song in the midst of tremendous dangers and misuse and abuse by the authorities there. The young people sang, "I'm gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." Then they said, "Tell Governor Wallace..." But what they said was not, "Tell Governor Wallace he's a white honky and he's no good"; they simply used the song to say, "Tell Governor Wallace I'm gonna let it shine. ... Tell Chief Clark I'm gonna let it shine." They didn't need to attack those people; what they needed to do was powerfully, through the song, affirm that they had a spirit in them that they were going to share with the world, and no one in the world was going to stop them from doing it. That has always been a memory for me -- the way they refused to enter into the destructive spirit of their oppressors but instead took their powerful strength, which was always represented by Martin's action and preaching, and in their own particular way said, "We too are the carriers of light, and we want the governor and the police chief and everybody else to know that we're going to keep carrying it, too."


On telling the story of the freedom movement:
On poetry: