We need human rights now more thank ever....

 


 One of the earliest uses of the term “human rights” is attributed to Frederick Douglas when he referred to the fundamental rights of enslaved African-Americans at the time when the United States did not recognize their humanity or their rights. Indeed, the idea that all individuals have fundamental rights rooted in the concept of human dignity and that the international arena might provide support in domestic rights struggles has often resonated with marginalized and disenfranchised people. So it was no surprise that U.S. rights organizations, including the NAACP and the American Jewish Congress, played a crucial role in the birth of the modern human rights movement. Both groups helped to ensure that human rights were included in the UN Charter which founded the United Nations.

An Orator, an Abolitionist, an Editor, and a Statesman…..WHO AM I?

Mr. Frederick Douglass (1818-1895)

In the 1840s, I rose to prominence on the abolitionist circuit as I presented my story of slave life in Maryland and my escape to freedom.  My newspaper, The North Star, was a mouthpiece of the anti-slavery movement and carried addresses by the leading abolitionists of the day.  During the U>S> Civil War, I used my unique perspective to encourage President Lincoln to all African Americans to engage in the fight.  In the years after the war, I continued to fight tirelessly for equality and suffrage for both African Americans and women.  My Washington, D.C. home is now a landmark monument to my struggle for equality.  An Orator, an Abolitionist, an Editor, and a Statesman…..WHO AM I?

Frederick Douglass’s time in Ireland, when he became “a man

Douglass said that as a slave he had heard his master berate O’Connell’s anti-slavery activities and that he had read some of his speeches, which had been reprinted in American newspapers. It was no surprise then, that while in Ireland he would want to hear the Irishman in person. Douglass was not, as it has sometimes been suggested, invited to Conciliation Hall, the headquarters of the Repeal Association, by O’Connell. Hearing that O’Connell was in Dublin, he decided to attend a Repeal meeting, although once there, “having observed the denseness of the crowd, I almost despaired of getting in.” But he did squeeze in and, in a letter he composed later that night, admitted to having been entranced by O’Connell’s eloquence:

“I have heard many speakers within the last four years – speakers of the first order; but I confess, I have never heard one, by whom I was more completely captivated than by Mr. O’Connell. . . . It seems to me that the voice of O’Connell is enough to calm the most violent passion. . . . There is a sweet persuasiveness in it, beyond any voice I ever heard. His power over an audience is perfect.”

Towards the end of the meeting when the audience was thinning out, Douglass moved to the front of the hall where he was introduced to O’Connell by a fellow American. He was then invited on stage to say a few words. Douglass recorded, “although I scarce knew what to say, I managed to say something, which was quite well received.”  In the course of his short speech, his admiration for the Irish man was palpable:

“The poor trampled slave of Carolina had heard the name of the Liberator with joy and hope, and he himself had heard the wish that some black O’Connell would yet rise up among his countrymen and cry ‘Agitate, agitate, agitate!’” he said.

The phrase “Black O’Connell” appears to have originated with Douglass, who, later in life, would suggest that the appellation had been bestowed upon him by O’Connell – a claim that has been frequently repeated. However, the real significance of this phrase is what it reveals about Douglass’s appeal for black people to take responsibility for their own liberation.

Douglass left Dublin at the beginning of October, to travel to other parts of the country. He gave lectures in Wexford, Waterford, Youghal, Limerick and Belfast.  His treatment as an equal; continued to surprise and delight him. He wrote, “I saw no-one that seemed to be shocked or disturbed at my dark presence. No one seemed to feel himself contaminated by contact with me.”

Douglass left Ireland in January 1846. He continued his tour in Britain, staying away from America for almost two years. He gave almost 200 lectures, over 40 of them in Ireland. On the eve of his departure from Belfast, Douglass reflected on his isolation: “. . . as to nation, I belong to none. . . . The land of my birth welcomes me to her shores only as a slave, and spurns with contempt the idea of treating me differently. So I am an outcast from the society of my childhood, and an outlaw in the land of my birth.”

He went on to add, “I can truly say, I have spent some of the happiest moments of my life since landing in this country.”
Shortly after leaving Ireland, Douglass wrote to Garrison. The letter revealed that, as a result of this visit, he had come to see the crusade for abolition as part of a much wider struggle for social justice:

“I see much here to remind me of my former condition, and I confess I should be ashamed to lift up my voice against American slavery, but that I know the cause of humanity is one the world over. He who really and truly feels for the American slave, cannot steel his heart to the woes of others; and he who thinks himself an abolitionist, yet cannot enter into the wrongs of others, has yet to find a true foundation for his anti-slavery.”

Douglass’s time in Ireland freed him in another way; he wrote his own Preface to the Irish edition of Narrative, thus demonstrating a new-found confidence in no longer having to rely on a white abolitionist to give his writing authority.

The timing of Douglass’s visit coincided with the first appearance of a blight in the potato crop. At this stage nobody knew that the crop failure would mark the onset of prolonged famine in Ireland. Douglass did comment on the poverty of the Irish people, even in Dublin. But he, like O’Connell, drew an important distinction between Irish oppression and American slavery, explaining, “The Irish man is poor, but he is not a slave. He may be in rags, but he is not a slave. He is still the master of his body.”

Douglass’s time in Ireland, when he became “a man,” helped to consolidate his view that the struggle of black slaves was part of a wider struggle for social justice. His experiences in 1845 provided a prism through which he could view suffering and oppression everywhere, and articulate the demand for universal human rights. This approach remained pivotal to his subsequent political activities. Towards the end of his life, Douglass served as Minister to Haiti. In 1893, no longer in that position, he paid public tribute to the beleaguered country – the first black republic – referencing both Ireland and Daniel O’Connell in his speech:

“It was once said by the great Daniel O’Connell, that the history of Ireland might be traced, like a wounded man through a crowd, by the blood. The same can be said of the history of Haiti as a free state.”

Frederick Douglass Discusses the meaning of the Fourth of July

Frederick Douglass Discusses the meaning of the Fourth of July

 

As the city's most distinguished resident, Frederick Douglass was requested to address the

citizens of Rochester on the Fourth of July celebration in 1852. The speech he delivered, under

the title, "What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?", illustrates the great power, insight and

integrity of the man.

Fellow Citizens:

Pardon me, and allow me to ask, why am I called upon to speak here today?

What have I or those I represent to do with your national independence? Are the great principles

of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence,

extended to us? And am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering to the national

altar, and to confess the benefits, and express devout gratitude for the blessings resulting from

your independence to us?

Would to God, both for your sakes and ours, that an affirmative answer could be truthfully

returned to these questions. Then would my task be light, and my burden easy and delightful. For

who is there so cold that a nation's sympathy could not warm him? Who so obdurate and dead to

the claims of gratitude, that would not thankfully acknowledge such priceless benefits? Who so

stolid and selfish that would not give his voice to swell the halleluiahs of a nation's jubilee, when

the chains of servitude had been torn from his limbs? I am not that man. In a case like that, the

dumb might eloquently speak, and the "lame man leap like a hare."

But such is not the state of the case. I say it with a sad sense of disparity between us. I am not

included within the pale of this glorious anniversary! Your high independence only reveals the

immeasurable distance between us. The blessings in which you this day rejoice are not enjoyed in

common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity, and independence bequeathed by

your fathers is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought life and healing to you has

brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth of July is

yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must

mourn. To drag a man in fetters into the grand illuminated temple of liberty, and call upon him to

join you in joyous anthems, were inhuman mockery and sacrilegious irony. Do you mean,

citizens, to mock me, by asking me to speak today? If so, there is a parallel to your conduct. And

let me warn you, that it is dangerous to copy the example of a nation whose crimes, towering up

to heaven, were thrown down by the breath of the Almighty, burying that nation in irrecoverable

ruin. I can today take up the lament of a peeled and woe-smitten people.

"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down. Yes! We wept when we remembered Zion. We

hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away

captive, required of us a song; and they who wasted us, required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one

of the songs of Zion. How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O

Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave

to the roof of my mouth."

Fellow citizens, above your national, tumultuous joy, I hear the mournful wail of

millions, whose chains, heavy and grievous yesterday, are today rendered more intolerable by the

jubilant shouts that reach them. If I do forget, if I do not remember those bleeding children of

sorrow this day, "may my right hand forget her cunning, and may my tongue cleave to the roof of

my mouth!" To forget them, to pass lightly over their wrongs, and to chime in with the popular

theme, would be treason most scandalous and shocking, and would make me a reproach before

God and the world. My subject, then, fellow citizens, is "American Slavery." I shall see this day

and! its popular characteristics from the slave's point of view. Standing here, identified with the

American bondman, making his wrongs mine, I do not hesitate to declare, with all my soul, that

the character and conduct of this nation never looked blacker to me than on this Fourth of July.

Whether we turn to the declarations of the past, or to the professions of the present, the conduct of

the nation seems equally hideous and revolting. America is false to the past, false to the present,

and solemnly binds herself to be false to the future. Standing with God and the crushed and

bleeding slave on this occasion, I will, in the name of humanity, which is outraged, in the name of

liberty, which is fettered, in the name of the Constitution and the Bible, which are disregarded

and trampled upon, dare to call in question and to denounce, with all the emphasis I can

command, everything that serves to perpetuate slavery-the great sin and shame of America! "I

will not equivocate; I will not excuse"; I will use the severest language I can command, and yet

not one word shall escape me that any man, whose judgment is not blinded by prejudice, or who

is not at heart a slave-holder, shall not confess to be right and just.

But I fancy I hear some of my audience say it is just in this circumstance that you and

your brother Abolitionists fail to make a favorable impression on the public mind. Would you

argue more and denounce less, would you persuade more and rebuke less, your cause would be

much more likely to succeed. But, I submit, where all is plain there is nothing to be argued. What

point in the anti-slavery creed would you have me argue? On what branch of the subject do the

people of this country need light? Must I undertake to prove that the slave is a man? That point is

conceded already. Nobody doubts it. The slave-holders themselves acknowledge it in the

enactment of laws for their government. They acknowledge it when they punish disobedience on

the part of the slave. There are seventy-two crimes in the State of Virginia, which, if committed

by a black man (no matter how ignorant he be), subject him to the punishment of death; while

only two of these same crimes will subject a white man to like punishment. What is this but the

acknowledgment that the slave is a moral, intellectual, and responsible being? The manhood of

the slave is conceded. It is admitted in the fact that Southern statute-books are covered with

enactments, forbidding, under severe fines and penalties, the teaching of the slave to read and

write. When you can point to any such laws m reference to the beasts of the field, then I may

consent to argue the manhood of the slave. When the dogs in your streets, when the fowls of the

air, when the cattle on your hills, when the fish of the sea, and the reptiles that crawl, shall be

unable to distinguish the slave from a brute, then I will argue with you that the slave is a man!

For the present it is enough to affirm the equal manhood of the Negro race. Is it not astonishing

that, while we are plowing, planting, and reaping, using all kinds of mechanical tools, erecting

houses, constructing bridges, building ships, working in metals of brass, iron, copper, silver, and

gold; that while we are reading, writing, and cyphering, acting as clerks, merchants, and

secretaries, having among us lawyers, doctors, ministers, poets, authors, editors, orators, and

teachers; that while we are engaged in all the enterprises common to other men digging gold in

California, capturing the whale in the Pacific, feeding sheep and cattle on the hillside, living,

moving, acting, thinking, planning, living in families as husbands, wives, and children, and above

all, confessing and worshipping the Christian God, and looking hopefully for life and immortality

beyond the grave-we are called upon to prove that we are men?

Would you have me argue that man is entitled to liberty? That he is the rightful owner of his own

body? You have already declared it. Must I argue the wrongfulness of slavery? Is that a question

for republicans? Is it to be settled by the rules of logic and argumentation, as a matter beset with

great difficulty, involving a doubtful application of the principle of justice, hard to understand?

How should I look today in the presence of Americans, dividing and subdividing a discourse, to

show that men have a natural right to freedom, speaking of it relatively and positively, negatively

and affirmatively? To do so would be to make myself ridiculous, and to offer an insult to your

understanding. There is not a man beneath the canopy of heaven who does not know that slavery

is wrong

for him.

What! Am I to argue that it is wrong to make men brutes, to rob them of their liberty, to work

them without wages, to keep them ignorant of their relations to their fellow men, to beat them

with sticks, to flay their flesh with the last, to load their limbs with irons, to hunt them with dogs,

to sell them at auction, to sunder their families, to knock out their teeth, to burn their flesh, to

starve them into obedience and submission to their masters? Must I argue that a system thus

marked with blood and stained with pollution is wrong? No; I will not. I have better employment

for my time and strength than such arguments would imply.

What, then, remains to be argued? Is it that slavery is not divine; that God did not establish it; that

our doctors of divinity are mistaken? There is blasphemy in the thought. That which is inhuman

cannot be divine. Who can reason on such a proposition? They that can, may; I cannot. The time

for such argument is past.

At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. Oh! had I the ability, and

could I reach the nation's ear, I would today pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting

reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not

the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The

feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the

propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its

crimes against God and man must be denounced.

What to the American slave is your Fourth of July? I answer, a day that reveals to him more than

all other days of the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To

him your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty an unholy license; your national greatness,

swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciation of tyrants,

brass-fronted impudence; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your prayers and

hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are to him

mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy-a thin veil to cover up crimes which

would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation of the earth guilty of practices more

shocking and bloody than are the people of these United States at this very hour.

Go where you may, search where you will, roam through all the monarchies and despotisms of

the Old World, travel through South America, search out every abuse and when you have found

the last, lay your facts by the side of the every-day practices of this nation, and you will say with

me that, for revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns without a rival