Dreams and Utopias

The historical merit of Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech is to paint the utopia of equality as a possible direction.

An isolated dream is an illusion or a fantasy, sometimes the prelude to a hallucination. But a shared dream is a collective utopia, a possible challenge. When Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech on Aug. 28, 1963 on the Lincoln Memorial stairs, he constructed one of the most powerful contemporary utopias. Those 1,666 words shook the world with three principles: more unity, more equality, more democracy. The same principles that 100 years earlier in mid-June of 1858 Illinois Senator Abraham Lincoln, running as a candidate at the Republican Convention in Springfield, transmitted in his memorable speech: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Politics as a necessary utopia, which, as a result, should be possible and realistic, utopia as a project.

The connection between Lincoln and King in both of their speeches and in their projection is explicitly and emotionally evident. “But 100 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.” Thus spoke MLK.

The first version of “Utopia,” the fundamental book by Renaissance humanist Thomas More, was published in 1516. The text is political satire, but also allegorical and romantic. More wanted to condemn the excess of power, greed and material obsession. He describes, through a narrator who is an explorer, an ideal world (an island), rationally organized (in other words, fair) that becomes a peaceful community that establishes common ownership of property. The social organization of the island (work, property, leisure) tried to dissolve all social differences and promote equality. An imaginary city, a nonexistent city, a “nowhere,” as Francisco de Quevedo translated “Utopia” to Castilian. Since then, utopia has been presented as something unattainable, more nonexistent than unthinkable, more impossible than incomprehensible.

The historical merit of MLK’s speech is to paint the utopia of equality as a possible direction, not as an unattainable island; nor as an island of marginalization, but as a way of coping, integration and social and civic redemption: “the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice,” “from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.” A collective motion through a tortuous and difficult geography that will not prevent a collective dream from being fulfilled: “Every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low.” The March on Washington served as both a metaphor and an initial step.

“I have a dream” is not an oneiric thought, but rather a political vision. Again, the connection to Lincoln is unique and inviting. The president, constantly tortured by fate and the historical implications of his most dramatic decisions, rummaged through his dreams (or his nightmares) in order to interpret the future and confirm the present. Lincoln dreamed — several days prior — how he would be assassinated, according to the explanations of his wife, who for many years deciphered and interpreted his dreams in the context of their tortuous relationship of mutual dependency and many intertwined psychological layers of reproaches and mixed feelings.

Dreams have been inspiration for and premonition of extraordinary and historical creations. John Lennon wrote “Imagine” after having heard the melody in a dream. Paul McCartney said the same thing about the melody of “Yesterday.” And Albert Einstein reported that his theory of relativity was inspired by a series of dreams that he had between April and June of 1905. But the dream of MLK was beyond creation and invention. It became a social chorus, a political flag and a generational hymn.

Fifty years later, his speech is now part of a universal culture. It transcends context and concrete history in order to become situated on a moral level and be transformed into something imperishable and inexhaustible. Fifty years later, politics — particularly our closest reality — have broken away from words that thrill, that interpret and project, that accept and proclaim. The discrediting of politics is threefold: It does not have dreams that become challenges, it does not defend utopias that are committed to action and it does not find words that urge and promote collective change — all these which are much more than the sum of the individual parts.

“I Have a Dream” is not a speech, but rather a permanent manifesto for action and mobilization, a path more than a destination or a goal. It is therefore not surprising that more than 2 million undocumented immigrants who came to the United States as children and who could potentially benefit from Barack Obama’s adoption of the law called the Dream Act are known today as the “dreamers.”

The dream continues: the American dream for many and the universal dream for all. The dream of brotherhood. Eternal thanks, Martin Luther King.

Antoni Gutiérrez is a communications adviser and political consultant. On the occasion of the commemoration of the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King’s speech, he has coordinated the publication of a free “e-book,” with many participating authors such as Federico Mayor Zaragoza, Juan María Hernández-Puértolas, Gumersindo Lafuente, Fran Carrillo, Rafael Vilasanjuan, Carlos Páez, Roberto Trad, Francesc Pujol, Yago de Marta, Xavier Peytibi and Ángela Paloma Martín. It will be available as of Aug. 28 on the commemorative website www.gutierrez-rubi.es/istillhaveadream.