The Answer To Injustice Is Not To

When I Sang My American Folk Melodies In Budapest, Prague, Tiflis, Moscow, Oslo, Or The Hebrides Or On The Spanish Front, The People Understood And Wept Or Rejoiced With The Spirit Of The Songs. I Found That Where Forces Have Been The Same, Whether People Weave, Build, Pick Cotton, Or Dig In The Mine, They Understand Each Other In The Common Language Of Work, Suffering, And Protest.

In Russia I Felt For The First Time Like A Full Human Being. No Color Prejudice Like In Mississippi, No Color Prejudice Like In Washington. It Was The First Time I Felt Like A Human Being.

I Feel Closer To My Country Than Ever. There Is No Longer A Feeling Of Lonesome Isolation. Instead-peace. I Return Without Fearing Prejudice That Once Bothered Me . . . For I Know That People Practice Cruel Bigotry In Their Ignorance, Not Maliciously

Why Should The Negroes Ever Fight Against The Only Nations Of The World Where Racial Discrimination Is Prohibited, And Where The People Can Live Freely? Never! I Can Assure You, They Will Never Fight Against Either The Soviet Union Or The Peoples' Democracies.

Every Artist, Every Scientist, Must Decide Now Where He Stands. He Has No Alternative. There Is No Standing Above The Conflict On Olympian Heights. There Are No Impartial Observers. Through The Destruction, In Certain Countries, Of The Greatest Of Man's Literary Heritage, Through The Propagation Of False Ideas Of Racial And National Superiority, The Artist, The Scientist, The Writer Is Challenged. The Struggle Invades The Formerly Cloistered Halls Of Our Universities And Other Seats Of Learning. The Battlefront Is Everywhere. There Is No Sheltered Rear.