Term : “I have a dream” de Martin Luther King
I have a dream (traduit en français par « Je fais un rêve») est le nom donné au discours prononcé le par le pasteur et militant américain Martin Luther King, devant le Lincoln Memorial, à Washington, durant la Marche sur Washington pour l’emploi et la liberté. Devant plus de 250 000 manifestants, King en appelle solennellement à la fin du racisme aux États-Unis et revendique l’égalité des droits civiques et économiques entre Blancs et Afro-Américains. Point d’orgue du Mouvement des droits civiques, le discours est généralement considéré comme l’un des plus importants du XXe siècle.
Le discours débute par une référence à la Proclamation d’émancipation qui a libéré plusieurs millions d’esclaves en 1863. King déclare ensuite « qu’un siècle plus tard, le Nègre n’est toujours pas libre ». Poursuivant son discours, il s’écarte peu à peu de ses notes et improvise une anaphore, martelant l’expression « I have a dream » après que Mahalia Jackson (célèbre chanteuse de gospel américaine) lui a crié : « Parle-leur de ton rêve, Martin ! »
Celui-ci décrit alors son rêve de liberté et d’égalité émergeant d’un monde marqué par l’esclavage et la haine. Selon le journaliste Jon Meacham, par cette seule phrase, Martin Luther King rejoint Jefferson et Lincoln parmi les hommes qui ont façonné les États-Unis modernes.
Selon le membre de la Chambre des représentants et militant afro-américain John Lewis, qui prit également la parole ce jour-là au nom du Comité de coordination des étudiants non violents : « En parlant comme il l’a fait, il a éduqué, il a inspiré, il a guidé non pas simplement les gens qui étaient là, mais les gens partout en Amérique ainsi que les générations à venir ».
Martin Luther King et le mouvement des droits civiques ne sont pourtant pas appréciés de l’opinion publique et la marche est rejetée par les deux tiers des Américains. D’après les sondages effectués par le New York Times en 1964, les New-Yorkais voient en Martin Luther King un « extrémiste » et jugent « excessives » les revendications de droits civiques.
Le 4 avril 1968, Martin Luther King est assassiné à Memphis.
Intégralité du discours (vidéo et texte):
Analyse :
Allusions et citations
En plus de sa vive rhétorique, il introduisit plusieurs citations soigneusement choisies et des allusions politiques et religieuses pour renforcer son propos. Dans l’ordre d’apparition :
Premièrement, à Abraham Lincoln, pour son discours de Gettysburg et pour la Proclamation d’émancipation (lors de son discours, Martin Luther King se tenait au pied de la statue de Lincoln) :
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation.
— « Il y a cent ans, un grand Américain, dans l’ombre symbolique duquel nous nous tenons aujourd’hui, a signé la Proclamation d’Émancipation. »
Aux documents fondateurs des États-Unis d’Amérique (Constitution et Déclaration d’indépendance) :
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”
— « Je fais le rêve qu’un jour cette nation se lèvera et vivra le vrai sens de sa foi : « Nous tenons ces vérités comme allant de soi, que les hommes naissent égaux. » »
When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed to the inalienable rights of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
— « Quand les architectes de notre république écrivirent les textes magnifiques de la Constitution et de la Déclaration d’Indépendance, ils signèrent un billet à ordre que chaque Américain allait retrouver dans son héritage. C’était la promesse que chacun – oui, les noirs tout autant que les blancs – serait assuré de son droit inaliénable à la vie, à la liberté et à la quête du bonheur. »
À Amos 5:24 :
we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
— « nous ne sommes pas satisfaits et nous ne serons satisfaits que le jour où la justice se déversera comme un torrent et la droiture comme un fleuve puissant. »
À Isaïe 40:4-5 :
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.
— « Je fais le rêve qu’un jour chaque vallée s’élèvera et chaque colline et montagne sera aplanie, les endroits rugueux seront lissés et les endroits tortueux redressés, et la gloire du Seigneur sera révélée et tous les êtres faits de chair la verront ensemble. »
À la chanson My Country, ‘Tis of Thee :
this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning “My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my father’s died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!”
— « tous les enfants de Dieu pourront chanter avec un sens nouveau cette chanson patriotique, « Mon pays, c’est de toi, douce patrie de la liberté, c’est de toi que je chante. Terre où reposent mes aïeux, fierté des pèlerins, de chaque montagne, que la liberté retentisse ! »
Enfin, aux mots du vieux negro spiritual Free at Last :
Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
— « Enfin libres ! Enfin libres ! Dieu Tout-Puissant merci, nous sommes enfin libres ! »
Texte intégral :
“I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the “unalienable Rights” of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: “For Whites Only.” We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest — quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification” — one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day — this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride, From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
Martin Luther King, Washington DC le 28 août 1963.