[nfbmi-talk] Blindness: The Lessons of History

[trising]

The Lesson of History

 Blindness: The Lessons of History

 An Address Delivered By Kenneth Jernigan

 Napoleon, in one of his more expansive moments, is said to have quipped: "History is merely a legend agreed upon." Queen Elizabeth 
I, reportedly squelched
Mary Queen of Scots with the regal comment: "No, history will not vindicate you, for I will write it." In other words, according to 
this view, history
is only a myth and a fable.

 But there are those who think otherwise. A time-honored cliche proclaims,    with almost mystic authority: "History repeats itself, 
and those who do
  not learn it are doomed to relive it." The very qualities which make this    pronouncement so attractive are also the ones which 
make it so dangerous
as    a standard of conduct. Its slick phraseology and apparent logic divert attention    from its oversimplification. History does, 
indeed, repeat itself-but
never    precisely, and never exactly. There is always a new twist, a different nuance,    an added element. For one thing, the past 
event itself (the
one which is currently    in the process of being repeated) is now a factor. Its former occurrence is    part of the pattern. It has 
left its mark and
skewed the picture. Those who    fail to recognize this truth can never effectively learn the lessons of history.    History can 
give us a sense of heritage
and broaden our perspective; it can    help us understand and cope with the present; and it can assist us in predicting    the 
future.

 Tonight (in July of 1980) we stand at the threshold of the fifth decade of our organization.  As we look back to the past and call 
up our heritage so
that we may deal with the present and plan for the future, let us bear in mind what the poet Tennyson said in the middle of the 
nineteenth century: "I
am a part of all that I have met." Let us also remember that history has its cycles, its not quite repetitions, and its patterns and 
lessons for those
who can read and understand.

 When the blind came to organize in 1940, the situation was as bleak as it could possibly be.  It was bright enough to create hope 
and dark enough to make
that hope seem impossible.  Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, the brilliant scholar and constitutional lawyer who founded our movement and led 
it for the first quarter
century, summed up the early years as only he could have done it:

 The paramount problems of our first decade, the 1940's, [he said] were not so much qualitative as quantitative: we had the 
philosophy and the programs,
but we lacked the membership and the means.  The workers were few and the cupboard was bare.

 Each month as we received our none too bountiful salary as a young instructor at the University of Chicago Law School, Hazel and I 
would distribute it
among the necessaries of life: food, clothing, rent, Federation stamps, mimeograph paper, ink, and other supplies.  So did we share 
our one-room apartment.
 The mimeograph paper took far more space in our closet than did our clothes.  We had to move the mimeograph machine before we could 
let down the wall
bed to retire at night.  If on a Sunday we walked along Chicago's lake front for an hour, four or five fewer letters were written, 
dropping our output
for that day to fewer than twenty-five.

 The decade of the forties was a time of building: and build we did, from a    scattering of seven state affiliates at our first 
convention to more than
four    times that number in 1950. In the decade of the forties we proved our organizational    capacity, established our 
representative character, initiated
legislative programs    on the state and national levels, and spoke with the authority and voice of    the blind speaking for 
themselves.1

 This is the way Dr. tenBroek summed up the first decade. The second decade,    the 1950's, was a time of both triumph and trouble. 
It began with hope
and momentum.    It ended with internal strife and a civil war. By the mid fifties we had forty-seven    state affiliates, money in 
the treasury, and power
in the halls of Congress.    In the fifties we established our magazine, the Braille Monitor, and    began to outline to ourselves 
and to others the distinctive
nature of what we    were and what we intended to be. By the end of the decade we were so divided    and demoralized that our very 
existence as a continuing
and viable movement    seemed highly doubtful.

 Dr. tenBroek recognized, as did the rest of us in that corps of leaders he    trained in the fifties, that it was no mere accident 
or coincidence that
our    growing independence and influence were followed by furious attacks from without    by the agencies, and defections and 
strife from within by people
who had been    our colleagues in the movement. The governmental and private agencies (the American    Foundation for the Blind, the 
sheltered shops, and
the rehabilitation and social    work establishment) had money and position and prestige. They used these resources    lavishly-not 
as instruments to aid
the blind but as weapons to fight us    and to protect their vested interests. They intimidated, offered jobs and positions    to 
our potential leaders,
promised services and rewards, threatened reprisals,    and did everything else in their power to break our spirit and crush our 
determination.    They
complained to the post office and tried to discredit our mailings and fund    appeals. They exploited the vulnerability of blind 
vendors and sheltered
shop    workers. They coerced and promised and rewarded. The purpose was clear: It was    nothing less than the complete and total 
destruction of the National
Federation    of the Blind. In the face of such pressure it is not surprising that strains    developed from within-that what might, 
in normal times, have
been minor    problems of thwarted ambition or temperamental difference became major conflict    and civil war.

 That first tide of Federationism and independence (which, during the fifties, lapped higher and higher up the walls of the agency 
establishment and the
bastions of custodialism and exclusion) fell back upon itself at the end of the decade, spent and exhausted.

 But the Federation did not die. The movement did not disintegrate. Too much    was at stake. Too many lives had been touched. The 
blind had, for the first
   time in their existence, sensed the possibility of first-class status-and    they would simply not be denied. We knew (all of 
us-not just the leaders
   but also the rank-and-file: the old, the young; the educated, the uneducated-everyone    of us) that what we had so painfully 
achieved must not be surrendered,
that    self-organization (once lost) might not come again for a generation or a century.    Those of us who were left in the 
movement closed ranks, fought
where we could,    encouraged each other, remembered our heritage, and marched toward the future.    We understood from first-hand 
experience what the
black demonstrators meant    when they surrounded the factory gates and shouted with mingled hope and desperation:

 "I go to my grave.
 Before I be a slave."

 The decade of the sixties was almost the exact reverse of the fifties.  It began in despair and ended in triumph.  The Federation 
drew itself together,
shook off the civil war, and began to rebuild.  It was during the sixties that we lost our great leader, Dr. tenBroek, but he had 
done his work well.
The progress continued.  By the end of the decade we were bigger, stronger, better financed, and more united than we had ever been.

 Perhaps the sixties can best be capsulized by the opening verse of our Battle Song, which was composed in 1964.  It is known by 
every Federationist:

 "Blind eyes have seen the vision of the Federation way; New White Cane    legislation brings the dawn of a new day; Right of the 
blind to organize is
   truly here to stay; Our cause goes marching on."

 And our cause did go marching on, swinging into the seventies. And what a    decade it was! At the beginning of the seventies we 
were saying to the world,
   "We know who we are"; and by the end we were confidently adding, "And    we will never go back!" In the seventies the tide of 
Federationism rose
higher than it had ever reached before-far beyond the peak of the fifties.    It was during this decade that we completed the 
transition from a scattered
   confederacy to a single, united national movement-powerful, self-assured,    and full of destiny. We knew that whatever happened 
to the blind in the
years    ahead, the responsibility was ours. Our future, for the first time in history,    was in our own hands. Despite the odds, 
we could do with it
what we would. If    we had the intelligence and the guts, we could win first-class status and the    full rights of citizenship. We 
did not shrink from
the challenge. We welcomed    it. In fact, we demanded it. Our declaration of independence and purpose left    no doubt as to the 
course we intended to
follow. "We want no strife or    confrontation," we said, "but we will do what we have to do. We are    simply no longer willing to 
be second-class citizens.
They tell us that there    is no discrimination and that the blind are not a minority; but we know who    we are, and we will never 
go back!"

 More and more in the seventies we discovered the truth about our heritage and history, and drew strength and pride from what we 
learned.  Our annual conventions
were the largest meetings of blind persons ever held anywhere in the world, and (with affiliates in every state in the nation) we 
came universally to be
recognized as the strongest force in the field of work with the blind.

 Then, the cycles of history began to assume familiar patterns.  Superficially viewed, it was a second run of the 1950's.  As our 
voice grew louder and
our strength increased, so did the antagonism and fear on the part of the custodial agencies.  As early as the mid 1960's, there 
were hints and signs of
what was to come.  The American Foundation for the Blind, seeing its influence diminishing, undertook a new tactic to tighten its 
loosening grip on the
lives of the blind.  It announced that it was establishing a so-called "independent" accrediting system for all groups doing work 
with the blind.  As a
first step, the Foundation appointed what it called the Commission on Standards and Accreditation of Services for the Blind 
(COMSTAC).  The Commission
was to hold meetings, appoint subcommittees, and arrive at a "consen- sus" for the entire field.  Certain blind people (mostly 
agency officials or persons
who were, as the saying goes, "unaffiliated" and, therefore, largely uninformed) were brought to the meetings; but tight control was 
carefully maintained.


 When COMSTAC had finished its work and written its documents, it appointed    NAC (the National Accreditation Council for Agencies 
Serving the Blind and
Visually    Handicapped). The accreditation was, of course, to be purely voluntary and altogether    impartial. The American 
Foundation for the Blind provided
NAC's first Executive    Director, gave most of the money, prepared to control our lives for at least    the rest of the century, 
declared the whole process
democratic, and said it    was all very "professional"-as, indeed, in a way it was.

 By the middle of the seventies it was clear that the principal issues of the    fifties were again to be put to the test. It was 
the old question: Did
we have    the right to run our own lives, or did the agencies have the right to do it    for us? As the decade advanced, the 
struggle exceeded in bitterness
anything    which had ever before been seen in the field of work with the blind. Many of    the agencies worked with us and shared 
our aspirations, but
others (the reactionary    custodians in the American Foundation-NAC combine) abandoned all but the shallowest    pretense of 
dignity and so-called "professionalism"
and tried by brute    force to beat the blind into line. Especially did they concentrate their hatred    upon the National 
Federation of the Blind and
its leaders.

 But the 1970's were not the 1950's, and 1980 is not 1960.  The custodial agencies we face today are not the agencies of twenty 
years ago, nor are we the
blind of that generation.  We are stronger and more knowledgeable than we were then, and the agencies which oppose us (of course, 
many do not) are more
desperate, more frightened, and more shaken in their confidence.  Even the most reactionary are now forced to give at least lip 
service to consumer participation
and the rights of the blind.

 1960 and 1980 have many similarities, but they also have distinct and significant differences.  For one thing, the forces which 
oppose us today have (probably
because of our greater strength and their greater desperation) combined in a closer alliance than was the case twenty years ago. 
Led by the American Foundation
for the Blind, this alliance consists of NAC; our break-away splinter group, the American Council of the Blind; the Affiliated 
Leadership League of and
for the Blind; and a handful of other would-be custodians and keepers.  They have interlocked their boards, concerted their actions, 
pooled their hundreds
of millions of dollars of publicly contributed funds and tax money, and undertaken the deliberate and calculated destruction of 
independent organization
and self-expression on the part of the blind.

 If what I say seems exaggerated, consider a prime example right here in this    city where we are meeting. Consider the Minneapolis 
Society for the Blind
and    its President, Dick Johnstone. The Minneapolis Society for the Blind accepts    federal and state funds and solicits 
charitable contributions from
the public-at-large-all    in the name of helping the blind. Mr. Johnstone (the Society's President) supposedly    serves without 
any compensation whatsoever,
purely as a matter of public service    and civic duty. Yet, last fall at the NAC meeting in Oklahoma City Mr. Johnstone    made a 
speech about the National
Federation of the Blind (the largest organization    of blind people in this country-a group one would think he would particularly 
love and cherish
since his purpose is to help the blind and promote our interests).    Here are some of the things Mr. Johnstone said:

 All NAC needs now is a few more teeth-and the money to apply them. Money    can come to NAC-the same way it was lost: with 
pressure! ... NAC has a
policy right now, in hand, ready to go. They can help you in any problems with    the NFB without board action. Dr. Bleeker [NAC's 
Executive Director]
has that    authority, right now, unlike other agencies who have had to fiddle around and    go to their boards. Believe me, the 
Minneapolis Society for
the Blind is going    to have a policy the same way: any help you need, you'll get it out of us ...    Anything we needed [from NAC] 
we got ... One thing
we did learn, and we have    researched this a little; and I hope you will, too, to prove it to yourselves:    fight! ... Negotiate? 
Never! ... The only
thing the National Federation of the    Blind respects is strength. The power is with us right now, if we will use our    heads and 
use it. If we unite
and help one another, as you united to help us,    we can't lose ... It's time we go on the offensive, quit hiding our heads in 
the sand ... Programs
and agencies banding together in strength can only secure    success for NAC and all other legitimate agencies ... The National 
Federation    of the Blind
is going to come back and fight harder than ever, now. The pressure    is on us, the legitimate blind, to counter the new attacks 
that are sure to    come
...

 How does one account for this bitter tirade? Is this the talk of a dedicated volunteer working devotedly for a "professional" 
service agency, which has
only the well-being of the blind at heart? And what does he mean by the "legitimate blind?" Is Mr. Johnstone (in addition to damning 
our morals and denying
our right to exist) also questioning our paternity? This is not the language of service and love, but of slander and war.  It smacks 
of dark alleys, blackjacks,
and hoodlumism.  Why?

 Perhaps the answer is not so difficult after all.  Possibly there is a perfectly plausible explanation, one which may explain not 
only the conduct of
Mr. Johnstone and the Minneapolis Society for the Blind but also the behavior of many of the others who attack and condemn us with 
such spleen and irrational
hatred.

 First, let us consider Mr. Johnstone personally-this dedicated, unpaid    volunteer. He has been President of the Minneapolis 
Society for the Blind for
   many years. The Minneapolis Daily American in its June 2, 1972, edition carried    an article headlined: "Charity Group Refuses 
To Talk/Blind Are Being
Kept    In The Dark/President Of Non-Profit Society Given Whopping Contract." The    article says in part:

 The Minneapolis Society for the Blind has refused to answer questions regarding bids on a federally assisted construction project.

 The question arose when the Daily American learned that Richard Johnstone, president of the Society, also is president of the South 
Side Plumbing and
Heating Company, which has the mechanical contract on the project ...

 Frank A. Church, a U.S. official in the Chicago office of the Department of Health, Education and Welfare said that "special 
problems" are raised if a
member of the board bids on such a contract.

 Perhaps the fact that we of the National Federation of the Blind exposed and publicized this situation helps explain Mr. 
Johnstone's attitude toward us.
 Some professionalism! Some volunteer! It may also help explain the attitude of the Minneapolis Society in general.  But there is 
more: In the early 1970's
the Minneapolis Society for the Blind had a thirty member board of directors, none of whom was blind.  According to the By-Laws 
anybody who made a cash
contribution was, thereby, a member.  When the blind tried to become members, the Board of the Society declared that all members 
were expelled and that,
in the future, nobody would be considered a member except those on the Board.  As Federationists know, we took the matter to court 
in the early 1970's;
and after some seven years of battle and delay, we forced the Minneapolis Society to abide by the state law and honor the provisions 
of its own articles
of incorporation.  The courts made the Society accept blind members and hold an election.  The issue is still not finished and 
awaits further action by
the courts.  Is it surprising that Mr. Johnstone and the Minneapolis Society hate us and wish we would cease to exist? Not really.

 But there is still more.  There is the Kettner case.  Lawrence Kettner was "evaluated" so that the Society could get an exemption 
and wiggle out of paying
him the federal minimum wage.  To say the least, the "evaluation" was unusual.  Kettner was evaluated over a period of fourteen 
days, but the studies of
his work were made only on the third, fourth, sixth, and eighth days.  His duties were changed; the equipment was faulty; and there 
were delays in bringing
him supplies.  Even so, Kettner's productivity increased markedly (from 49% of normal production to 79%), showing the unfairness of 
not giving him time
studies after the eighth day of the fourteen day period.  He says he was called into the Director's office and badgered into signing 
a statement that he
was capable of only 75% of normal production.  He says he was told he would not be paid for the work he had done if he did not sign. 
He needed the money.
 He signed.  Even as this was happening, he secured a job in private industry at a rate above the minimum wage.

 We publicized the Kettner case far and wide, and we told the Department of    Labor about it. Yes, I think I can understand why Mr. 
Johnstone and the
Minneapolis    Society for the Blind hate the organized blind movement-and it has nothing    to do with so-called high-toned 
"professionalism." It is a
matter    of money and cover-up and exploitation. It is as simple and as despicable as    that.

 As to Mr. Johnstone's statement concerning the "legitimate blind," I would say this: He is not blind, so I do not see how that part 
applies; and as to
the question of legitimacy, I would think (in the circumstances) the Minneapolis Society for the Blind would not want to discuss it. 
The matter of unblemished
paternity is a sensitive issue.  So much, then, for Mr. Johnstone and his talk about the "legitimate blind.  "

 But what about the others who attack us, the others in the American Foundation for the Blind-NAC combine? Are their reasons for 
hating us similar to those
of Mr. Johnstone and his Minneapolis Society? Let us call them off and examine their "legitimacy." First, the Cleveland Society for 
the Blind.  It is locked
in a battle with blind snack bar operators.  In 1972 the Director of the Society told the blind operators that they must contribute 
specified amounts to
the United Torch Campaign or face dismissal.  Under the Federal Randolph-Sheppard Program, Ohio was authorized to take as a service 
charge no more than
three percent from the gross earnings of operators, but the Cleveland Society was taking eight percent.  This could amount to as 
much as half of the net
earnings of an operator.  Moreover, as a condition of employment each blind operator was forced to sign an agreement giving the 
Cleveland Society unbelievable
power over his or her personal life.  The operator had to agree (and I quote) to: "have an annual physical check-up; eat a balanced 
diet; obtain adequate
rest commensurate with the hours to be worked at a snack bar; bathe daily; shampoo frequently; use appropriate deodorants; wear 
clean underclothing; and
wear comfortable shoes."

 We in the Federation (at least, most of us do) believe in regular bathing    and good personal hygiene, but we are not willing (as 
a condition of employment)
   to have somebody cram it down our throats-tell us how much rest to get,    what kind of food to eat, what kind of deodorants to 
use, and when to change
   our underwear. In the newspapers the Director of the Cleveland Society defended    his rules by saying that "Blind people have to 
be especially careful."


 And, of course, he is right. We do have to be careful-of people like    him. We (you and I, the National Federation of the Blind) 
took this Director
  and his custodial agency to court and publicized what he was doing. The battle    still continues. Is it any wonder that the 
Cleveland Society for the
Blind and    its Director hate the organized blind movement and wish we would cease to exist?    Not really. Yet, they tell us that 
there is no discrimination
and that the blind    are not a minority; but we know who we are, and we will never go back.

 The Cincinnati Association for the Blind and the Houston Lighthouse for the Blind have refused to comply with orders from the 
National Labor Relations
Board that they permit their blind workers to organize.  We stimulated those organizing efforts and are now fighting these two 
agencies in the Federal
courts.  Is it surprising that they hate us and brand us as "militants" and "trouble-makers?" Not at all.  How could it be 
otherwise?

 The Chicago Lighthouse for the Blind used every tactic it could (including the firing of blind organizers) to prevent blind 
employees from forming a union.
 We took the matter to the National Labor Relations Board, and we picketed.  It is hardly necessary to add that the Chicago 
Lighthouse is a principal leader
in the combine which attacks us.  We picketed the Evansville Association for the Blind and told the public what the Association was 
doing (all in the name
of charity, and with publicly contributed funds) to exploit and hurt blind people.  We picketed the Columbia Lighthouse for the 
Blind in Washington, D.C.,
when it was having a gala charity ball attended by leading socialites.  We told these socialites and the public-at-large how the 
Lighthouse really operates,
and what it is doing to the lives of blind people.  Agency officials in Florida and Alabama have been criminally indicted.  All of 
these groups (the Minneapolis
Society for the Blind, the Cleveland Society, the Cincinnati Association, the Houston Lighthouse, the Chicago Lighthouse, the 
Evansville Association, the
Columbia Lighthouse, and the Alabama and Florida agencies) have two things in common: They exploit the blind, and they are all 
accredited by NAC.

Then there is New York-New York, the home territory and the special turf    of the American Foundation for the Blind and NAC. In 
1978 there was a state
   audit of Industries for the Blind of New York, Inc. The audit showed that this    organization (which was the principal 
governmental procurement agency
for blind-made    products in the state) spent its money on liquor and lavish parties and expensive    cars and high salaries and 
God knows what else which
the average human being    would consider to be totally unrelated to the welfare of the blind. And what    is Industries for the 
Blind of New York, Inc.?
Well, it is a board consisting    of the representatives of ten agencies, seven of which are accredited by NAC.    They are 
flagships in the NAC fleet.
Wesley Sprague, Director of the New York    Association for the Blind, is (of all things) the long-time Chairman of NAC's 
Commission on Standards. Joseph
Larkin, Director of the Industrial Home for    the Blind of Brooklyn, is a NAC board member. Peter Salmon, the Industrial Home's 
former Director, is
NAC's past president.

 There are some five hundred organizations and groups in this country which    might conceivably choose to be accredited by NAC. 
Yet, by January of 1980
(a    decade and a half after its formation) NAC was forced to admit that it had only    seventy-nine agencies in its fold. But let 
me hasten to add that
these are very    special agencies. Our best information indicates that they probably have a total    combined wealth of somewhere 
in the neighborhood
of a half a billion dollars.    Think about it!-half a billion dollars! A few of them may truly be service    oriented and dedicated 
to high standards
and the best interests of the blind-but    there are the others, the ones that Mr. Johnstone would presumably call the 
"legitimate blind." I have detailed
for you the conduct of sixteen    of these. Sixteen! More than twenty percent of NAC's entire membership. And    there is evidence 
which could be brought
against many of the rest. NAC: What    a sorry, miserable spectacle! It is not a concern for "professionalism"    which is the bur 
under the saddle of
some of these people. It is the fear that    we may expose their real concerns: the making of money, the lapping of liquor,    the 
lust for luxury, and
the push for power.

 No, it is not surprising that the American Foundation for the Blind-NAC combine    hates us and that they are determined to destroy 
the National Federation
of    the Blind. We are the principal threat to their master plan-their effort    to gain complete control over the lives of every 
blind man, woman, and
child    in this nation-their hope to live happily in luxury ever after. To speak    of "legitimacy" in the same breath with NAC is 
reminiscent of what
   Franklin Roosevelt said in 1936 about mentioning the depression in the presence    of the Republican Party. It is like showing a 
rope to the family
of a man who    has been hanged.

 As I have already said, there are both similarities and differences between    the 1950's and the 1970's-between 1960 and 1980. In 
the fifties the external
   attacks brought severe internal conflict. In the late seventies we saw some    of the same tendencies-but even though the 
pressures have been greater
   this time around, the dissension among us has been minimal, giving testimony    to our increased strength and maturity as a 
movement. We are a part
of all that    we met in the 1950's. We learned-and history does not quite repeat itself.

 There is also a new element, one which was not present twenty years ago.  In the fifties we had not yet become strong enough to get 
very many of our own
people appointed to positions of leadership in the agencies.  By the seventies the situation was different.  In 1976 and 1977 we 
came within a vote or
two of having a majority in the National Council of State Agencies for the Blind.  A number of our own members had been named as 
state directors, and many
of the other state directors were and are supportive of our cause.

 However, there was a problem, one from which we must learn. Just because an    individual calls himself or herself a Federationist, 
that does not necessarily
   mean that he or she is immune to the temptations of agency power-the ability    to control lives and the urge to equate one's own 
interests with those
of the    blind consumers. Increasingly in the seventies we became strong enough to bring    reform to a growing number of agencies 
and to play a deciding
role in determining    who their directors would be. Quite naturally, our people (having suffered so    grievously from the poor 
service and custodial
treatment dished out by the agencies)    wanted to have Federationists as directors. Sometimes we made bad choices. It    was almost 
as if, out of reaction
to the miserable service we had received,    we said: "Give us a Federationist-any Federationist-just so long as    we can throw off 
the yoke of what we
have had." It was a mistake-one    for which we are now paying.

 Some of these so-called Federationists had hardly been appointed to office    before they tried to take over the affiliates in 
their states and make them
   mere auxiliaries and fronts for their own vested interests. They put aside their    loyalties and principles and seemed to forget 
that they had obtained
their jobs    as part of a national movement-the overall struggle of the blind as a people    to be free. They forgot (if, indeed, 
they had ever truly
believed) what it is    that has brought us as far as we have come on the road to first-class status    and the full rights of 
citizenship. No individual
or state organization-no    local group or single person-could have done it alone. It required the    combined effort of us all. It 
still requires that
combined effort if we are    to finish the journey. In its absence none of us (not a single blind human being)    will go the rest 
of the way to equality
and freedom. We should have been more    selective in supporting candidates for agency leadership-but we are a part    of all that 
we have met. We have
learned. Fortunately we are strong enough to    absorb the shock of the lesson. We will not make the same mistake again. In    the 
future the primary test
of whether we will support an individual for a position    of leadership in an agency will not be whether that person is called a 
Federationist    but
what kind of philosophy and commitment the individual demonstrates. Of course,    this has always been our concern, but the emphasis 
is now different and
the    care more thorough. Better a neutral (one with the basics of a good philosophy,    who is willing to work with us in 
partnership to win our support)
than a Federationist    in name only (one who takes it for granted that, because of his or her reputation    as a Federationist-even 
a strong Federationist-we
will automatically    be supportive, regardless of the agency's conduct or behavior). We have come    too far on the road of 
liberation to turn back now.
We are not willing to exchange    one master for another, even if the new would-be custodian has been our colleague    or uses the 
name "Federationist."
We will say it as often as we must:    We want no strife or confrontation, but we will do what we have to do. They    tell us that 
the blind are not a
minority and that there is no discrimination;    but we know who we are, and we will never go back.

 As Federationists know, I get a constant stream of letters from blind people from all over the country.  Some of these letters are 
highly literate.  Others
are not.  Taken together, they show the pattern and give the details of what it is like to be blind in America today.  They tell of 
the hopes and aspirations
and problems which the blind confront.  I want to share with you a brief passage from one of these letters.  It is from a woman in 
her early fifties.
In page after page she cries out with the heartache of a life of frustration.  Here is part of what she says:

 I went to the state rehabilitation agency because I was seeking employment.  I believe I was referred there by the employment 
service.  I couldn't understand
why no one wanted to hire me.  The reason given most frequently was lack of experience.  But I was young.  "How does one get that 
experience?" I kept asking
myself.  And the rehabilitation agency could do nothing to help me.  I am sure that each employer I saw felt that I should get my 
experience some place
else ...

 This part of her letter refers to her early twenties.  When she comes to the present (the time of her early fifties) she says:

 The rehabilitation agency can still do nothing to help me.  My efforts to obtain employment are the same continuing story.  I won't 
drag it out any further
except to say that I have met with repeated failure.  I haven't enough skill to get a typing job, and apparently I haven't the 
training or skill (or is
it that I can't get the opportunity?) to do anything else.  I never have enough experience to compete, but as was the case when I 
was young, how can I
get that experience if no one will give me a chance to try? And (now that I am in my fifties) who is going to give me the chance to 
try with my lack of
experience?

 I feel already as though I am in forced retirement. I shudder to think how    the actual retirement years will be. I am not sure 
where to go from here-whether
   I should try to change my life, or merely be resigned to the fact that this    is probably how it will be from now on.

 I am sure that my story is not new to you.  You must hear something like it almost every day.  Perhaps you can measure my despair 
by the number of pages
in this letter.  I see my life ebbing away and I have yet to find my niche to occupy.  This inactivity and lack of a life's work is 
not how I would choose
to spend what is left of my productive years.  I dreamed of the future when I was young.  Now, I look around me sometimes and say, 
"Dear God, this is the
future." I'm living it now.  Perhaps it is the only future I will ever have.

 How can I answer such a letter? What can I say to ease the burden or lighten    the load? Day by day the hope has been killed, the 
spirit has been crushed,
   and the dream destroyed. Yet, NAC and Mr. Johnstone tell us that all will be    well if we will only leave it to them and their 
agencies. All they need,
they    say, is a few more teeth-and enough money to crush the NFB. How twisted!    How pathetic! In their luxury and so-called 
"professionalism" they
   do not even know of the existence of the deprivation and the misery-of    the daily struggles and problems of the ordinary blind 
individual.

 As we stand at the door of the fifth decade of our organization, we must thoroughly understand the lessons of history, for the 
eighties will be a time
of trial and decision.  They will require all that we have in the way of ability and devotion and courage.  We must work not only 
for ourselves but also
for the blind of the next generation, for they are our children.  If not biologically, they are surely morally our children, and we 
must make certain that
they have the chance for better lives and fuller opportunities than we have had.

 When we talk of history, we usually think of the past-but what will future    historians say of us-of you and me-of the National 
Federation of the
Blind in 1980? What will they say of our struggle for freedom and our battle    with NAC, the American Foundation for the Blind, and 
the other custodial
agencies?    As I said in 1973, future historians can only record the events which we make    come true.

 They can help us be remembered, but they cannot help us dream.  That we must do for ourselves.  They can give us acclaim, but not 
guts and courage.  They
can give us recognition and appreciation, but not determination or compassion or good judgment.  We must either find those things 
for ourselves, or not
have them at all.

 We have come a long way together in this movement.  Some of us are veterans, going back to the forties; others are new recruits, 
fresh to the ranks.
Some are young; some are old.  Some are educated, others not.  It makes no difference.  In everything that matters we are one; we 
are the movement; we
are the blind ...

 If we falter or dishonor our heritage, we will betray not only ourselves but    those who went before us and those who come after. 
But, of course, we
will not    fail. Whatever the cost, we shall pay it. Whatever the sacrifice, we shall make    it. We cannot turn back or stand 
still. Instead, we must
go forward.2

 We shall prevail against NAC and the other custodial agencies; we shall prevail against social exclusion and discrimination; and we 
shall prevail against
those few in our own movement who would destroy it with bitterness and strife.  We are stronger and more determined now than we have 
ever been, and we
have learned well the lessons of history.  My brothers and my sisters, the future is ours.  Come! Join me in the battle line, and we 
will make it all come
true.