Progress and Power:

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Progress and Power: The First Jernigan Presidency

On Easter Sunday, in the year 1980, Kenneth Jernigan sat down to write an informal
Report to the Members on the state of their Federation, over which he had presided
for more than a decade. Looking backward through the years he was struck both
by the scale of progress in the movement and by the profusion of forms it had
taken. If you consider the Federation of 1960 and compare it with the Federation
of 1980, he wrote, the advancement is almost unbelievable. In 1960 we customarily
had three or four hundred people at our annual convention banquets. We now have
in the neighborhood of four times that many! Then, we had no recorded issue
of the Braille Monitor, no presidential releases on cassette, no seminars,
no nationwide distribution of television and radio public service announcements,
no Pre-Authorized Check plan, no members-at-large and Associates program, and
no affiliates in several of the states.

The Federation's President continued:

Today, what a difference! The Monitor is the most influential publication
in the field of the blind. Whether they admit it or not, our opponents know
it as well as we do. Our public service spots cover the airwaves of the nation,
and the presidential releases bind us together in a family of unity and a common
bond of shared information and interest. We have our own national headquarters
building; and our Braille, print, and recorded materials go out by the hundreds
of thousands each year.

Our
leadership seminars are strengthening our ties as nothing else
could. Each
year our March on Washington and our continuing NAC
demonstrations
bring hundreds of us together from throughout the
nation to give
testimony to our ongoing strength and commitment.

What other group (either of
or for the blind) could muster the
numbers we
bring together to carry out our projects? Everybody
knows the
answer: None.

So wrote the leader of the world's largest organization of blind people, reviewing
the accomplishments and setbacks of the era just past an era that constituted,
during most of its span of years, what has come to be known as the first Jernigan
presidency. That tenure in office had begun in 1968, following the death of
the Federation's founder and first President, Jacobus tenBroek. It came to an
end in 1977, when mounting health problems forced Jernigan (temporarily, as
it turned out) to resign his office. During those nine years most of the advances
and innovations he was later to enumerate, in his Easter Report to the members,
came into being along with others which were largely taken for granted, such
as the steady but phenomenal growth of Federation membership and attendance
at National Conventions. Even in the late sixties the sheer numbers of participating
members seemed remarkable to old-timers in the movement; at the Des Moines convention
in 1968 there were nearly a thousand people on the floor at peak periods. Some
730 of them attended the banquet that year to applaud their newly installed
President as he delivered an inspirational address entitled Blindness: Milestones
and Millstones in which he memorialized the passing of the torch from one generation
of leaders to the next.

This year [he said] is a time of mourning, and a time of dedication. It is
a time to look back, not in anger but in sorrow; and it is a time to look forward,
not in complacency but in confidence. It is a time for continuity, and a time
for change.

With the death of our beloved President, Dr. tenBroek, we have lost a leader but we have not lost direction. We mourn the passing of a
man, but not the end of a movement. On the contrary; he has shown
us the way; he has set our feet on the path; he has fired our
minds and fueled our resolution. He has passed the torch
to us; let us march with it, and hold it high.

And President Jernigan concluded his
address to a standing
ovation with
these resonant words:

Let the word go out from this place and this moment that the torch has
been passed to a new generation of blind Americans, a
generation
born in this century and fully belonging to it, a
generation
committed to the belief that all men (seeing or blind)
are capable of
independence and self-direction, of attaining
equality and
pursuing happiness in their own way, of serving each
other and
helping themselves of walking alone and marching
together.

Between that overture and that
conclusion, the new chief
executive of
the movement defined both the milestones of progress
and the
millstones of resistance which together marked the pathway
of the
organized blind into the mainstream of society. His address
was an
artful blend of the abstract and the concrete of
philosophical
discussion and practical illustration alternating in
tone and
substance between the rhetoric of high purpose and the
immediacy of
the telling example. With his homespun manner and the
trace of a
rural Tennessee accent, Jernigan wore his learning
lightly; he
made his points often through anecdote, and nearly as
often the
anecdote was personal, drawn from his own life and
expressive
of his inner feelings. If his language was frequently
poetic, it
could also be blunt and earthy; as he himself once put
it (alluding
to a favored blind trade
of the sheltered shops),
Let us call
a spade a spade, and a broom a broom and let the
broomcorn
fall where it may.

When Kenneth Jernigan rose in Des Moines
to give his maiden
speech as
NFB President, he was scarcely an unknown quantity to the
audience of
Federationists; he had been a national leader of the
movement for
over fifteen years and second in command for a decade.
Moreover, he
was thoroughly familiar to the members as a speaker
and writer,
much in demand at state conventions and frequently on
display in
the pages of the Braille Monitor. But
this time it was
different;
now it was the presidency, and this was the banquet
address.
There was a new authority in the speaker's voice on this
night, a new
dimension to his presence; and the audience was quick
to respond
to it. Here was not merely a new hand at the helm but a
new voice on
the rostrum, a distinctive personality and style which
rang out
through the phrases of this noteworthy speech the first
one in a
distinguished series of presidential addresses which would
epitomize
the movement of the organized blind for nearly a score of
years to
come.

Here is the text of that address as given at the l968 convention banquet: BLINDNESS
MILESTONES AND MILLSTONES
The presidential succession which took place in l968 when the convention chose
Kenneth Jernigan to assume the chair left vacant by the death of Jacobus tenBroek
symbolized more than a ceremonial changing of the guard. It represented, as
we have already noted, a transition of the generations from the era of the founders
the pathfinders who blazed the trail and laid the foundations of the movement
to their successors of the second generation, who in turn were to build upon
that bedrock an expanding institutional
structure
that in time would tower over the field of work with the
blind and
cast a lengthening shadow of authority and influence
across the
land.

That symbolic structure the National
Federation of the Blind
had its
original epicenter in California: the state where Jacobus
tenBroek
lived and taught, where Newel Perry presided as mentor and
godfather to
the movement, and where such early leaders as Raymond
Henderson,
Perry Sundquist, and Muzzy Marcelino formed a nucleus
around which
the Federation grew and flourished in the forties and
fifties.
California also could claim in that period one of the few
training and
orientation centers for the blind in the nation; and
it was the
magnet of that center which, combined with the
opportunity
to work directly with Dr. tenBroek, attracted a young
teacher of
the blind named Kenneth Jernigan to the Bay Area in the
early
fifties, where he and Dr. tenBroek commenced the close
working
relationship that was to endure until the latter's death.
During these
years it could be said, with considerable truth, that
as
California goes, so goes the Federation.

The epicenter of Federationism as a
national movement began
gradually to
shift following the transfer of Kenneth Jernigan to
Des Moines
in l958 to become director of the Iowa Commission for
the Blind.
During the sixties the Iowa Commission was transformed
from possibly
the worst rehabilitation agency in the nation (in
l957 it was
the lowest of all in job placements) to arguably the
best in the
nation, by every measure of accomplishment; and in the
process of
its phenomenal growth it spread Federationism and
spawned
Federationists. Among the brightest and
best who
graduated
from the Commission's Des Moines orientation center in
this period
and went forth as leaders of the movement were Marc
Maurer,
Ramona Walhof, Peggy Pinder, James Omvig, and James Gashel.
And, as had
occurred earlier in California, the Federation's state
affiliate in
Iowa grew rapidly to become one of the largest and
most
effective in the country.

It is believed by many who have observed
the Federation
closely over
the last three decades that Jernigan's years in Iowa
contributed
more to the current status of the National Federation
of the
Blind, as well as to the field of work with the blind as a
whole, than
has generally been recognized. One such person (a
former staff
member) capsulized the experience as follows:

In 1958 Kenneth Jernigan became director
of the Iowa
Commission
for the Blind. In 1978 he left Iowa. The coming to Iowa,
the twenty
years there, and the leaving all three had a
significance
in the history of the organized blind movement far
beyond the
simply stated facts. Jernigan's decision to seek out and
accept the
Iowa position set the focus for the succeeding decades
not only for
his own career, but, to a large extent, for the
Federation
as well. Had Jernigan in 1958 chosen to concentrate his
monumental
youthful energy along the alternate path which he and
Dr. tenBroek
seriously considered for him a career in national
politics the
Federation at fifty would hardly resemble the
organization
as it is today. And of Jernigan himself? Who knows.
But the road
taken was Iowa and to understand the Federation
today, one
must explore thoroughly the multiple levels of
Jernigan's
twenty years as director of the Iowa Commission for the
Blind for
those years and what has come to be known in broad sweep
as the
Iowa Experience forever changed the world for the blind
even for
those who didn't know then and who don't know now anything
about Iowa.

The tangibles the huge library with its books-on-demand transcription program,
the Orientation Center, the thoroughly modern headquarters building, the state-of-the-art
equipment, the salary schedules above those for other state workers and the
intangibles the gleaming corridor floors, the invitations to the Governors'
Balls, the Presidential Citation, the international visitors, the upbeat media
attention, the crisp yes sirs and no ma'ams all proclaimed in ringing tones
that which was the central core of the Iowa Experience: It is respectable to
be blind. To be in Iowa meant total immersion in that philosophical precept
which shaped and permeated it all from the inconsequential to the bedrock.

Some saw in Iowa a state rehabilitation agency, giving solid service to the
blind of the state and enabling them to become part of the economic, social,
and cultural fabric of their communities. And they were right. Thousands of
blind Iowans are living testimony.

Some saw a model, a working embodiment of
Federation
philosophy in
action which could be duplicated. And they, too, were
right. Over
the years they came, and looked. They learned and
believed and
went away and built elsewhere. In varying degrees,
with surges
forward amid steps backward, from the Southeast to the
Northwest
tens of thousands were touched.

Some saw a threat to an entrenched system
of blindness
agencies
which denied the capacity of the blind to live normal
lives and
earn competitive wages. And The National Accreditation
Council for
Agencies Serving the Blind and Visually Handicapped was
born.

For some clients, staff, and observers
(both blind and
sighted) it
was a training ground, in a sense the Federation's West
Point. The
finer points of philosophy were argued for hours on end;
public
officials were managed with carrots and sticks; alternative
skills and
techniques of blindness were honed to perfection; and
the mind was
stretched with exercises in logical reasoning a
familiar
sound being a student roaming the halls muttering, If a
squirrel and
a half ate a nut and a half in a day and a half, how
many nuts
could nine squirrels eat in nine days?

In many these experiences forged a
lifelong and unshakable
commitment
to the National Federation of the Blind. During the
three
decades (1960-1990) those who had the benefit of the
intensity of
the Iowa training during the Jernigan years
(1958-1978)
that unique mixture of skills training, mental
discipline,
attitude examination, love, compassion, determination,
and hope which
were the heart of Kenneth Jernigan's Iowa program
fanned out
across the country assuming leadership positions at the
local,
state, and national levels. One need only make a cursory
review of
the leadership roles of the organized blind movement to
assess the
impact of the Iowa years.

Jernigan's establishment of the Iowa
Commission for the Blind
program in
1958 had been a necessary and logical step in the
Federation's
long-term strategy to build full first-class status
for the
blind. The tangible success of the program in proving that
the average
blind person could, indeed, hold the average job in the
average
place of business vindicated Federation philosophy and set
the pace for
others to emulate.

Equally necessary and logical in the
Federation's long-term
strategy was
Jernigan's move in 1978 to Baltimore to establish the
National
Center for the Blind. The National Federation of the Blind
had become
so central a factor in the entire
blindness system
that its
principal leader could no longer (or ever again) be
constrained
by ties to any governmental entity. With the move to
Baltimore
and the establishment and expansion of the National
Center for
the Blind, Jernigan was freed to concentrate his full
attention on
building in depth from the grass roots up the
far-flung
yet focused mechanism which by the end of the decade of
the 1980s
had become the powerful force of the National Federation
of the
Blind.

During the seventies there was to be yet another shift in the movement's center
of gravity; this time, however, it would not be concentrated in a particular
state but distributed throughout the country. The movement was to become, in
a word, national in character genuinely a National Federation rather than a
confederation of autonomous states, with one or another temporarily predominant.
There were various reasons for this new nationalism in the organized blind movement
among them the vibrant role of the National Convention; the spread of the Braille
Monitor; the development of leadership seminars; and the initiation of recorded
presidential releases, which were sent each month to state affiliates and local
chapters. But the underlying impetus for the trend derived from a powerful inner
force which was transforming the character of the National Federation from that
of an ordinary association to that of a special kind of community.
The Convention and the Community

The National Federation of the Blind had been founded on twin premises one
theoretical and the other practical. From the very outset its leaders knew that
a set of principles, well-understood and
carefully applied, was essential to its success. Equally
important to
success was the building of a strong, effectively run
organization
to implement the basic principles. The prudent
marriage of
philosophy and activism issued, over the years, into
the unique
community of Federationism.

Before the founding of the National
Federation, there had been
little
community among the blind, in America or elsewhere. There
were hundreds of thousands of blind individuals who composed a
distinguishable population; but they were rarely aware of anything
in common other than the lack of sight. It was Jacobus tenBroek,
educator and theorist, who gave to this scattered collection of
blind Americans a set of guiding principles and a solid structure
through which to nurture and actualize them. In turn it was the
special
genius of Kenneth Jernigan to turn the structure into a
community.
The notion of a blind community evolved
gradually within the
structure of
the National Federation of the Blind. Through the
early years
recruitment into the ranks of the Federation was slow
and
sporadic, and growth was further hampered by the civil war of
the late
fifties. But the years of battle, internal and external
alike, not
only tested and tempered the mettle of the
Federationists
who endured; it also made of them kindred spirits,
co-participants
in a movement, brothers and sisters of an extended
family in
short, members of a close-knit community. By the end of
the sixties,
there was evolving in the ranks of the Federation an
almost
palpable spirit of joint venture and common purpose what one
member
calledsharing and caring
defined by the proven capacity
of the
members to achieve together what none could do alone. This
was a
community forged by an act of will, a collective act, on the
part of a
once-scattered people traditionally discouraged from
organizing
or associating. They had been brought together in l940
by a common
need; now they were beginning to come together through
a common
bond. Such a bond was far from customary among the blind.

It should be remembered that blindness
itself has always been
isolating in
multiple ways. First of all, it was commonly assumed
by blind
persons and those about them that independent mobility the
simple act
of getting around on one's own was impossible for the
blind.
Second, attitudes about blindness often contained an element
of social embarrassment
and discomfort occasioned by the very
presence of
a blind person making everyone feel relieved when he
stayed
homewhere he belonged.
Third, many people both sighted
and blind
associated blindness with helplessness; hence, a blind
person (one
not acquainted with the Federation and its philosophy)
often
attempted to cover a lack of self-confidence by assuring
himself that
he was better than other blind people the rest of whom
were clearly
more helpless than he was. Accordingly all contact
with other
blind people was to be rigorously avoided. While Jacobus
tenBroek had
recognized these isolating factors from the outset of
the
movement, it was Kenneth Jernigan who took it upon himself in
the early
fifties as a teacher and counselor to work directly with
blind
persons to overcome this isolation and turn around the
defeatist
attitudes. First in California and later in Iowa,
Jernigan
worked in orientation and adjustment centers for the adult
blind,
bringing blind people together from geographically scattered
locations
into a single setting. There he concentrated upon
instilling
into them a sense of independence and self-reliance,
grounded in
the recognition that they could be proud of their own
accomplishments
and that they might share this pride with others.
Hundreds of
blind persons, through the years, learned the meaning
of
independence from Dr. Jernigan and returned as self-confident
citizens to
find careers and establish families in their home
communities.
Many of them thereafter made a point of retaining
their
contacts with Dr. Jernigan and his colleagues and of reaching
out in their
turn to other blind men and women open to the new
ideas. As
one of these former students put it
Recruitment into
the Federation
is still a matter of one person telling another.
And the rate
of transmission of the message was accelerated, year
by year, as
more and more students learned independence and moved
confidently
out into the world, spreading the word as they went.

But independence alone was never sufficient; there were still the stumbling-blocks
of public disbelief and rejection. For these blind men and women of the new
generation found that while they might now find a competitive job, raise a family,
pay taxes, get about in the world, and generally take pride in themselves, they
could still be ejected from a restaurant if the owner deemed their presence
disturbing to other patrons. Jernigan's students (and those that they in turn
recruited) discovered that there were problems to be solved and changes to be
made that no blind individual alone could manage; only collective action could
do the job. Like the members of the organized labor movement before them, they
learned that in union there is strength. But there was an added dimension the
closeness of a shared crusade, which touched every aspect of the lives of its
participants. In particular, the annual convention of the National Federation
of the Blind more and more took on the qualities of a giant meeting of the clan,
or the reunion of a vast extended family, while also retaining its practical
function as a forum for concerted action. By the end of the sixties the outlines
of a genuine community were becoming visible within the structure of the organized
blind movement.

The Seminars

As the decade of the seventies got under
way, the Federation
was growing
and flourishing on all fronts. The days of the civil
war were
nearly a decade in the past no longer within the
experience or
even the memory of many current members. States never
previously
organized were now joining the national movement and
states once
torn by civil strife were rejoining in a campaign led
by President
Jernigan to establish beachheads, in the form of
affiliates,
in all fifty states. Local chapters were proliferating
and
individual membership, in all parts of the country, was rapidly
expanding.
Every year the National Convention broke existing
attendance
records (in l969 the number officially registered was
770; in l97l
it was l,00l; and in l973 it was l,506). No one was
heard
complaining about this trend; nevertheless it began to be
recognized
that growth itself, for all its virtues, could generate
problems of
its own if not carefully channeled: problems of
complexity,
enormity, and anonymity. These growing
pains, of
course, were
unknown to the previous generation. Through the early
decades of
the movement, leaders of talent had emerged infrequently
and were
then swiftly brought into the circle of leadership where
everyone
knew everyone else and worked closely together. But with
the growth
and geographic spread of the Federation, the possibility
arose of
individual leaders in various parts of the country
becoming
isolated from one another and working in different
directions,
thus sowing the seeds of future discord. With this
situation in
mind, President Jernigan in l973 instituted a series
of
leadership training seminars which were to become a permanent
fixture in
the movement. The object of the seminars, then and
later, was
to bring together in the setting of the national
headquarters
a number of members (averaging about 25) from
throughout
the country who had demonstrated leadership and
commitment
to the goals of the Federation. From their inception the
seminars
were held two or three times yearly, at first in Des
Moines and
later in Baltimore. By l990 not a single state remained
unrepresented
by at least a few seminar participants over the years
and there
was no state which was not stronger for the experience.

The special value of these seminars, for
those who took part
in them,
stemmed in large part from the intensity of the
experience.
The seminarians lived and learned and worked together
for four
active days, at close quarters with one another and with
the national
President (first Kenneth Jernigan and later Marc
Maurer).
They came to know the institutional workings of the
national
headquarters; they learned the history of the movement
from the
people who made it; they mastered the structure of the
basic laws
governing work with the blind, and they reasoned through
(and talked
and argued through) the handling of hundreds of
problematic
situations drawn from actual experience which were
posed to
them by the President. These contingencies gave the new
leaders an
opportunity to ponder issues of administration, of
policy-making,
of finance, and of the routine daily tasks of
keeping a
movement composed mainly of volunteers working happily
along toward
its goals. The outcome of each of these seminars was
and remained
a disciplined body of Federationists, schooled in
history and
relevant law, skilled in the arts of leadership, and
welded
together through the bonds of friendship and camaraderie.
Whenever
these seminarians attended a National Convention, they
found a
ready-made group of companions to whom to turn for advice,
for
assistance, and for association.

For over a decade and a half these national seminars produced a substantial
corps of Federation leaders, dispersed widely through the country yet held together
by the ties of comradeship. Largely because of this informal network of seminarians,
the Federation's National Convention during the course of the seventies ceased
to be a collection of separate state delegations and took on the character of
a true distillation of the national blind community what one Federationist called
asecular society of friends. The NFB convention traditionally held each year
in the week surrounding Independence Day afforded a panoply of illustrations
of this communal spirit in action. Blind people from all walks of life willingly
took on a variety of tasks that might have nothing to do with their backgrounds
but everything to do with helping the convention run smoothly. Some of them
stood for hours at a stretch, directing traffic or assisting at microphones;
others worked at an array of tables, demonstrating new devices or handing out
literature. But it was more than the mechanics of the convention for which these
members tended to feel responsible; it was the well-being and high spirits of
others as well. Should a member turn up with a new baby, for example, what seemed
like half the convention might drop by to meet the child. And if a family had
suffered a loss, hundreds of Federationists were likely to come around to express
their sympathy.

In l989, a much-loved member who happened
to be the spouse of
the Nebraska
state president suddenly died just before the National
Convention.
The most poignant moment of that year's convention came
during the
roll call of states on Thursday morning, July 6, when
Nebraska was
called. After giving the detailed information required
of each
official delegate, Barbara Walker who was attending the
convention
with her two young children spoke these words to the
three thousand
people in the auditorium:

I want to say to everyone here that our
Federation family
does many
things for many people. At this particular time I want to
thank
everyone for the support that has been shown to my family as
we go
through the most difficult time I have ever known. I want in
particular
to thank Fred Schroeder for the eulogy he delivered on
behalf of
this organization at the services for Jim. It reached
many people.
I have received calls from people who have opposed our
organization
on many occasions who, I believe, were reached (and
reached
deeply) by the message. As we continue in the various
struggles
which we have to face, I will pledge to do my best to do
the work
which Jim faithfully honored all the years of his life. I
need our
Federation family very much right now, and everyone here
is
responding in a way that is unbelievable to me. Thank you very
much.

The National Convention meant many things
to many different
people.
Sometimes it was very personal. One year, a member had
found a job
in another town but lacked the money to move; his
fellow
Federationists reached into their pockets and made the move
possible.
Another year a member was running for elective office;
conventioneers
from all over the country contributed to the
campaign of
this blind person who was venturing forth into elective
politics.
Sometimes it was a small matter that spoke of trust and
caring such
as the time when a blind machinist brought her own
tools to the
convention to show other blind people how she did it.
She
described her job and then asked that the tools be passed
around. They
were valuable implements, and someone worried aloud
that she
might not get them back from the two thousand-plus people
in the room.
Over the microphone she laughed and said she was not
concerned;
her fellow Federationists would see to that. She was
right, of
course.

The Federation's soaring rate of internal growth which only a few years before
had been halted and reversed under the stress of civil war was surpassing expectations
even before the eventful decade of the sixties had come to an end. At the 1969
convention held in Columbia, South Carolina, the number of delegates in attendance
approached 1,000. It was at the Columbia convention that President Jernigan
seized upon and adapted to new purposes the favorite catchword of the sixties:
revolution. He spoke in his banquet address of a revolution that had just begun
to happen a revolution of the future as well as of the present a revolution
in the field of blindness that will replace old outlooks with new insights.
In sounding the thematic note that more than any other seemed to epitomize the
decade of the sixties in America, Jernigan was also striking a chord for the
seventies which would resound throughout his first presidency: a new spirit
of aggressive self-confidence and determination on the part of the organized
blind. Other Jernigan speeches before this one and many more to follow would
also emphasize this theme of forceful resolution, of the sense of a new identity
(we know who we are) and of refusal to turn back or be turned around. But in
1969, in a strongly worded address entitled "Blindness: New Insights on Old
Outlooks," the Federation's President expressed these concepts with unsurpassed
cogency and flair.

The full text of that speech follows: BLINDNESS:
NEW INSIGHTS ON OLD OUTLOOKS
Increasingly Jernigan was asked to address official gatherings concerned with
broad issues of education and the general welfare. One such occasion was a Governor's
Conference on the Future of Education held in Des Moines during October, 1969,
and attended by over 800 educators and other professionals. Dr. Jernigan was
invited, as an educator himself, to speak on the then-controversial subject
of innovation in education. His response, although it did not deal directly
with blindness and the blind, was infused with the philosophy and outlook he
had acquired through two decades of association with both the organized blind
and the service agencies of the blindness system. This is what he had to say:

The Future of Education Innovation: Panacea or Pandemonium?

by Kenneth Jernigan

The question before us on this panel is: Educational Innovation Panacea or
Pandemonium. My response to that question is, summarily, that innovation cannot
be a panacea, and need not become pandemonium. At the least it is a palliative,
and at best it may be a progression. Nothing is more evident today, to the layman
as well as to the expert, than our systems for the delivery of learning that
is, our schools are in trouble. Not only in Iowa, but all over the land and
at all levels from elementary to university we seem to be going up the down
staircase.

At the college level, students in significant proportions, if not in alarming
numbers, militantly confront and sometimes defy their professors and administrators.
The common denominator of their various demands is, however, not revolution
at least not yet but innovation. The cliche most commonly employed to express
this demand is relevance; and that tiresome term (if it means anything at all)
means new departures both in the substance and procedure, the goals and the
methods, of academic experience. But that is not all there is to the theme of
innovation in higher education. Two recent and broadly influential studies of
the college crisis, neither of them concerned primarily with student protest
and both of them the work of sociologists illustrate in their titles the centrality
of the principle of innovation. One is The Academic Revolution, by Christopher
Jencks and David Riesman; the other is The Reform of General Education,
by Daniel Bell. Let me, for the moment, simply take note of this pervasive and
persistent emphasis on innovation in the current literature on the higher learning
in America.

At the secondary level the issues are not quite the same but are no less caught
up in considerations of reform and experimental change. Here the problem is
more commonly one of drop-outs than of sit-ins (although Students for a Democratic
Society, as you know, has begun a campaign to organize the high schools); and
questions of contemporary relevance, immediacy, and cogency, are the burning
issues in social studies, if not everywhere else in the curriculum.

At the elementary level, where creativity has its native stronghold, the theme
of innovation has been a constant perhaps the only constant for more generations
than any one now living can remember. Whatever may be said in criticism of our
primary schools today, they are a far cry from the Dotheboys Halls of Dickens's
time, where Nicholas Nickleby and his fellow scholars carried on their rote
learning and ritual recitations in constant terror and discomfort under pain
of daily floggings designed to correct that constitutional flaw in the disposition
of all children known to the devout as infant depravity.

Innovation in the shape of humanitarian reform and child-centered learning
entered the American schoolhouse with John Dewey and his progressive philosophy
even before the turn of the century. It has since been revitalized through successive
theoretical transfusions, notably the self-motivating methods of the Montessori
school; and today, after many backings and fillings, innovation is again a conspicuous
feature of learning theory and methodology in elementary education. But the
tide, of course, does not flow all one way. The innovative spirit, with its
passion for change and its impatience toward convention, never proceeds very
far in any community without encountering resistance; and in the present conservative
climate of opinion across the country (brought on in large part, as I believe,
by excessive demands for change), it is unlikely that innovators will have their
way entirely at any stage of the educational ladder.

No doubt this is as it should be. The
history of American
education
may well be read as a dialectical process of alternating
challenge
and response between the forces of innovation and those
of tradition.
But it should not be supposed that this competition
of
viewpoints is unhealthy in principle or destructive in tendency.
On the
contrary, it is the educational analogue of the democratic
political
process on one hand and of the competitive enterprise
system on
the other. For the debate I am talking about is not over
ends and
basic values, but rather over means and interpretations.
The real
enemy of innovation, it should be understood, is not
tradition
but inertia. Tradition, wherever it is viable and
valuable,
welcomes change and progress; innovation, wherever it is
sensible and
successful, soon turns into tradition. The
relationship
between innovation and tradition, in the school as in
society, is
properly not one of conflict but of continuity. Each
perspective
in fact needs the other. Without regular injections of
innovative
energy, tradition deteriorates into dogma; without the
sober and
corrective prudence of traditional wisdom, innovation
becomes mere
novelty, hovering on the edge of chaos.
I hope that I have said enough to demonstrate my own partiality for innovation,
disciplined by a respect for the past in the curriculum and the classroom at
all levels of the educational system. Indeed, it would be a betrayal of my own
professional career and commitment were I to suggest otherwise. As director
of the Iowa Commission for the Blind over the past dozen years, I have been
at the storm center (some might say I have been the storm center) of full-fledged
revolution in the education of blind people away from conventional indoctrination
in the sheltered blind trades and from adjustment to lives of quiet desperation
toward the higher ground of complete equality, independence, and participation.
The blind students who pass through our rehabilitation center here in Des Moines
emerge not as dependent conformists ready for the broom shop and the rocking
chair, but as self-sufficient citizens ready to lead their own lives, to go
their own way and to grow their own way rebels against the establishment, no
doubt, but rebels with a cause. That cause, that sense of mission, may be defined
as faith in their own capacity, individually and collectively, to assume the
active role of change agents in the uncomprehending world around them: more
specifically, to reconstruct the social landscape of the country of the blind.
Our commitment in the programs of the Iowa Commission is therefore to innovation
in the fullest sense, both in ends and means; and in the exercise of this commitment
we are continuously experimenting and improvising, remaking and revamping, branching
out and breaking through, in every phase of our operation.

Having said that much for innovation, let me reverse direction and say a few
words against it. It is a truism that we live in an age more accustomed to change,
more comfortable with abrupt transitions and large-scale alterations, than any
previous age in history. Moreover, we Americans are geared toward the future,
almost obsessively forward-looking, utterly fascinated with the shape of things
to come. Planning, forecasting, prognosticating, predicting, projecting, extrapolating
these are our characteristic national pastimes. Witness, as a case in point,
the structure and focus of the present conference. Its subject is education,
yes; but it is noteducation today, let alone education in retrospect or in historical
perspective. No; it is The Future of Education. And the opening panel this morning
was appropriately entitled "2001: An Education Odyssey."

Well and good. As an avid science-fiction reader and amateur futurist myself,
it would come with ill grace from me to scorn this forward-oriented posture.
My concern is only that, in our haste to get to tomorrowland, in our absorption
with the themes of change and innovation, we may overlook the stubborn realities
of today and disdain the crucial lessons of yesterday. In the field of education,
as in that of government, we cannot afford to break precipitously with what
Walter Lippmann has termed the traditions of civility and what Edmund Burke
called the prudential wisdom of the past. For to break away from that usable
past is to break away from the moorings of civilization itself and to drift
unpiloted not toward the good society of our dreams but toward the Brave New
World of our nightmares.
It is not only innovation which cannot be regarded as a panacea for our problems.
Education itself must not be burdened with unreasonable demands and expectations.
It would be difficult to overemphasize the importance of the schools, and especially
of the universities, in the future conduct of our civilization; but it would
not be at all difficult to overestimate their capacities and resources. As far
back as a decade ago Dr. John W. Gardner, the president of the Carnegie Corporation
and since Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare in the Johnson Administration,
could declare: The role of the universities is undergoing a remarkable change.
They are thrust into a position of great responsibility in our society a position
more central, more prominent, more crucial to the life of the society than academic
people ever dreamed possible. Indeed, it is this explosive growth of the American
college system which Professors Jencks and Riesman have designated the academic
revolution and which they describe in their magisterial volume in tones fraught
at least as much with concern and apprehension as with optimism and affirmation.
Just as the lower schools cannot be all things to all children, so the universities
cannot be all things to all men. In short, to avoid falling into pandemonium
we must avoid falling back upon panaceas.
In the allocation of roles and values to the educational enterprise, we shall
need to keep our heads and maintain our balance in more ways than the one under
discussion in this panel. If it is important to strike a balance between the
forces of innovation and those of tradition, it is equally vital to balance
the values of a general or liberal education against those of vocational and
professional training. And most crucial of all may be the need to balance the
esthetic and moral persuasions of the soft humanities against the aggressive
imperatives of the hard sciences. Let us admit that there is no imminent danger
of our neglecting or disparaging the latter. Between Sputnik I and Apollo II,
little more than a decade apart, we have thoroughly redirected and rededicated
our educational investment toward the advancement of science and the nurture
of its technological progeny. I have no desire to minimize the magnificent accomplishments
which have resulted from that national decision. The proof, after all, is in
the pudding or, rather, the proof is written on the moon and stars. But possibly
the time has arrived for a reassessment of educational priorities and of the
social values that undergird them. As we rocket down the skyways and spaceways
of the future, let us not forget what the year 1984 conjured up in the mind
of one sensitive futurologist the British author George Orwell. It was a vision
of hell in the shape of a technological paradise. It was the anticipation of
a future society which had lost its head, its nerve, and its soul. That imaginary
civilization failed, not for lack of innovation or of information not for lack
of scientific and technical skills or of psychological knowledge but for lack
of belief in the values and requirements of free men. Its failure, in a word,
was educational. I cannot leave this issue without a brief extension of my
remarks in a particular direction.
In all that I have said thus far I have, perhaps, been guilty of perpetuating
the favored illusion of schoolmasters, that education is a strictly formal affair
confined to primary, secondary, and tertiary institutions and to the span of
years between five and twenty-one after which it vanishes like the Cheshire
Cat, leaving only a bad taste and a wry grin behind. That assumption is, of
course, pedantic poppycock. Education is merely learning, intellectual or cognitive
growth, and it proceeds continuously in one form or another from cradle to grave.
Much of this lifelong process is, to be sure, what Paul Goodman has labeled
mis-education and others have termed negative learning a good deal of which
takes place in unstructured settings (such as watching TV) and even in unwitting
or unconscious circumstances (such as watching TV commercials). Learning of
a more active kind occurs in other situations, which are wholly or partially
non-academic and extra-curricular, but which function as extensions of the academy
classrooms without walls, as it were. Many of these settings are sufficiently
well known to need no mention; but there are others, close to my own experience,
which are germane to our theme of educational innovation. Perhaps the most far-reaching
example of informal education today, involving millions of Americans, is to
be found in the vast array of public aids and services aimed at the disabled,
disadvantaged, and deprived. Not all of these services of course entail the
transmission of new learning; but it is remarkable how many of them do, and
in how many ways. Here are a few: vocational rehabilitation, vocational education,
compensatory education, counseling and guidance, self-support and self-care,
group therapy and sensitivity training, apprenticeship and internship programs,
VISTA, Manpower Development and Training, Youth Corps, Head Start, Upward Bound,
orientation and adjustment services, and so on and on.

In these proliferating programs of
quasi-educational impact,
already
almost more in number than anyone can tabulate, there is
continuous
innovation and that is doubtless to the good. But there
is also
continuous indoctrination and that is presumably to the
bad. If the
millions of citizen-clients are not being enlightened
by these
services, they are unquestionably being influenced; and I
wish only to
suggest that we might do well to ponder the quality
and
direction of that educative influence.

As someone has surely said before me:
when tyranny comes to
America, it
is likely to come in the guise of
services.

I can do no better, in bringing my remarks to an end, than to offer you a
quotation from a small book which has meant much to me, and perhaps also to
some of you The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran:

Then said a teacher, "Speak to us of Teaching."

And he said: "No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies
half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge."

The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives
not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness. If he is indeed
wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you
to the threshold of your own mind.

In 1970, at the Federation's thirtieth
anniversary convention,
President
Jernigan delivered a banquet address which many veteran
members of
the movement were later to regard as among the most
eloquent of
his long career in the leadership of the organized
blind.
Speaking on the topic, "Blindness: The
Myth and the Image,"
Jernigan
exposed the hidden dimension of mythology and superstition
which still
conditioned social attitudes toward the blind. In
particular
he struck at thedisaster
concept of blindness with
its
melodramatic insistence upon regarding every blind person as a

tragic
figure; and he demonstrated in graphic detail that this
mythical
image was prevalent not merely in public opinion but in
professional
policy and practice.

Here in full is the text of that speech: BLINDNESS:
THE MYTH AND THE IMAGE

Leadership and the Barricades

From its beginning the Federation was concerned with the nature of leadership
and the relation of that leadership to the individual members throughout the
organization. Philosophical
questions
dealing with the principles of leadership commonly
alternated
in conventions and conferences with pragmatic issues
dealing with
the tactics of leadership. Oncoming leaders of the
younger
generation exchanged views with grizzled veterans of the
first
generation; elective officers and rank-and-file members
parleyed at
meetings and collaborated on resolutions defining,
amending,
and fine-tuning the functions of leadership. And
successive Presidents,
like Kenneth Jernigan at the 1971 convention
in Houston,
shared their thoughts and convictions with the throng
of attending
members in annual presidential reports as well as in
the more
ceremonial banquet addresses.

There is a kind of covenant in this
organization between the
membership
in convention and the Executive,said
President
Jernigan in
the course of his 1971 report.I've
tried to keep the
faith with
you, and I believe you have kept it with me. The
President of
this organization is not simply an impartial chairman
presiding
over a group of disjointed affiliates. I believe that you
elect a
President to conduct an administration; that you elect him
to take
stands on issues; and that you expect him to lead. I
believe that
if he doesn't lead the way you want him to lead, that
you can and
will rise up and throw him out. And that's what
democracy
means.

The President continued:
I think you ought to throw me out of
office just
as much for inaction or for over-caution, for not
leading, for
not doing things to help blind people, as you would
for rash or
precipitous actions and for ill-timed judgments. In
other words,
I believe that you elected me to lead a movement to
try to
improve the conditions of the blind, and as long as I'm
President,
so help me God, I'm going to lead.

We are a cohesive, spiritual movement,he concluded. We are an army of liberation
for blind people. We are a tough, fighting force. We are a responsible organization.
We are a call to conscience and I think, incidentally, that we are unstoppable
and unbeatable.

In his banquet address at the 1971
convention Jernigan linked
the theme of
leadership with that of relationship more
particularly,
the various and shifting relationships between the
organized
blind and elements of the blindness system. In a rousing
speech
received with waves of applause and a final standing
ovation, the
NFB President warned all who still clung to the old
ways of
condescension and caretaking that a day of reckoning was at
hand.
We don't want strife or dissension,
he said,
but the time
is
absolutely at an end when we will passively tolerate
second-class
citizenship and custodial treatment. We are free men,
and we
intend to act like it. We are free men, and we intend to
stay that
way. We are free men, and we intend to defend ourselves.
Let those
who truly have the best interest of the blind at heart
join with us
as we move into the new era of equality and
integration.
Let those who call our conduct negative or destructive
make the
most of it.

The full text of his speech tersely and
aptly entitled "To Man
the
Barricades" follows:

To Man the Barricades
When the delegates gathered in Chicago for the 1972
convention,
their numbers and enthusiasm gave tangible evidence of
the growing
impact which the Federation was having on the lives of
the blind of
the nation. Themes of leadership and relationship of
what role
the blind should play in determining their own destiny
and in their
interaction with the governmental and private agencies
established
to give them service, as well as with the general
public were
again major focal points of attention and discussion.
By 1972 the
ranks of the first generation had thinned. This was the
second
generation (the new generation) taking up the banner and
carrying it forward
in the Federation's struggle for equal
treatment
and first-class status in society. In this banquet
address
President Jernigan captured the mood of the convention and
charted the
course for the years ahead.

We must never forget the historic and social significance of our movement
or lose perspective in the momentary triumph of victory or sadness of defeat,
he told the banquet audience.The course is well-marked and clear. It has been
from the beginning; and, unless we lose our nerve or betray our ideals, there
can be absolutely no question that the future is ours.

He went on to declare that, more than
ever in matters
affecting
the blind,the choice is fundamentally
one of competing
philosophies.
On one side is the philosophy which regards the blind
as innately
different and inferior to the sighted. On the other
side is the
philosophy which regards us as innately normal and
equal to the
sighted. These two conceptions compete with one
another in
virtually every area of life from occupation to
recreation,
and from cradle to grave. One of them regards blindness
as a dead
end; the other regards it as a live option.

Here is the text of the 1972 banquet address: BLINDNESS:
THE NEW GENERATION

Marching on Washington

One of the more tangible signs of the new mood of exuberant confidence which
characterized the organized blind movement during the first Jernigan presidency
(roughly corresponding to the decade of the seventies) was the singular annual
pilgrimage that came to be known as the March on Washington and later as the Washington
Seminar. Beginning in 1973, the National Federation of the Blind organized these
enthusiastic gatherings of members from across the country typically numbering
in the hundreds who trekked to the nation's capital for visits with their congressmen
to talk about matters of concern to the blind. James Gashel, the Federation's
Director of Governmental Affairs, described a typical three-day gathering in
an article in the July-August, 1979, Braille Monitor. His authoritative
account makes clear both the political impact and the educational value not
to mention the inspirational effect of this yearly mobilization of blind people
in the capital city. Gashel's report also offers an insight into the complexities
of the legislative process at the top level of government with all its formal
hearings, informal meetings, and still more informal maneuvers and compromises.
Finally, this story reveals something about its author, the Federation's ingenious
and indefatigable man in Washington. Here is the text of his report:

MARCH ON WASHINGTON 1979

by James Gashel

Since 1973 when Federationists first turned out in numbers to
visit the
members of the Congress in their Washington offices, we
have
developed and refined the technique and come to refer to these gatherings as Marches on Washington. The issues have varied from
time to
time; the first Marches dealt almost exclusively with NAC
and our
effort to block further federal funding of this disgraceful
AFB power
grab maneuver, but by 1976 our voices had been heard
sufficiently,
and no more federal money went to NAC.

This done, the 1977 March focused on improving services to blind persons through
legislation aimed at authorizing special federal funding to separate agencies
for the blind which offer comprehensive rehabilitation and related services.
We also gathered support for our Disability Insurance bill as the 95th Congress
settled in to consider Social Security legislation. Again, the effort and the
participation of nearly 200 Federationists who came from across the country
at personal expense proved worthwhile, for during the 95th Congress we made
progress by securing new authority for specialized services for the blind through
the Rehabilitation Act, and we succeeded in obtaining an increase in the amount
which blind Social Security Disability Insurance beneficiaries can earn before
losing benefits. Above all, of course, we also renewed our relationships with
the law-makers who represent us in Washington, and where we have not had contacts
before, we were able to establish them.

The March in 1979 maintained the fine
traditions we have
built for
large turnouts and hard work. The agenda for the three
days
beginning April 30th and ending May 2nd was packed, but the
Federation
representatives, who traveled from as far as Utah and
Idaho, had
enough enthusiasm and stamina to keep pace with the
rigorous
schedule. Well over one hundred assembled for the advance
briefing at
9 p.m. Sunday, April 29th, and by Tuesday, with a fresh
contingent
of troops from Pennsylvania, our numbers had nearly
doubled.
President Jernigan opened the Sunday evening meeting by
bringing all
of us up to date on the most recent national
developments,
and he outlined the challenge of the three days just
ahead. Dr.
Jernigan also announced that remodeling of our new
national
headquarters building was complete, so that visiting
Federationists
would be able to see the facility fully occupied and
operational
on Tuesday, May 1st. This was truly the high point of
the trip to Washington
this time, seeing our own National Office
close to the
nation's capital and realizing the great potential it
offers us
for growth.

As for our work on Capitol Hill, the
kick-off event was a
Senate
hearing to review the progress made to date in implementing
the
Randolph-Sheppard Act Amendments of 1974. Senator Randolph
presided
over the hearing in the beginning, receiving testimony
from a panel
of NFB leaders and government witnesses. The full text
of the NFB
testimony will appear elsewhere in this issue. While our
spokesmen
were Arthur Segal, president of the Blind Merchants
Division;
James Sofka, president of the NFB of New Jersey; Victor
Gonzalez,
chairman, Agency Relations Committee, NFB of West
Virginia;
and James Gashel, the voice of the NFB was also heard in
numbers,
over 150 strong as we crowded into the packed hearing
room,
filling every chair and lining the walls.

This was known as an
oversight
hearing which Congressional
committees
conduct from time to time to see what steps should or
can be taken
to better enforce the laws. NFB Resolution 78-19
expressed
the Federation's outrage at the statements and
diversionary
tactics of some of the major federal agencies which
have been
maneuvering to avoid providing business opportunities for
blind
vendors on federal property. The resolution called for
oversight
hearings, so we set to work on this by asking Senator
Randolph to
place this item on the top of the agenda for the
Subcommittee
on the Handicapped during the 96th Congress, and the
Senator
responded positively. In fact, this was the first hearing
conducted by
the Subcommittee, and it generated a great deal of
attention.

Although oversight hearings rarely solve anything, they help to get issues
and evidence on the record, and the data uncovered by this hearing will be of
real value as we seek improved business opportunities through the vending facilities
program. At this writing, the record is not fully developed (much is done in
writing before and after the hearing), but we learned a number of interesting
things. For example, we were told that there are presently 291 cafeterias which
could be operated by blind persons on Department of Defense property, but only
one (located on a military base in Ohio) is currently in the Randolph-Sheppard
program. Upon hearing this, Federation representatives from that state sent
word to the front that the base served by this cafeteria will be closed in two
years a fact which certainly dims the military's shining example. It was obvious
to everyone that especially the Department of Defense was having a hard go at
finding good things to say about their responsiveness to the Randolph-Sheppard
Act, for although it had nothing whatsoever to do with the subject of the hearing,
the representative from the Defense Department made a point of explaining how
much the military is actually doing to help the blind, helping us, that is,
by doing business with the sheltered workshops through National Industries for
the Blind. Apparently this man has not been reading the Wall Street Journal
, and the Subcommittee was not impressed.

The hearing proceeded somewhat in this
vein with the federal
government
witnesses trying to explain to Senator Randolph how much
they
supported the blind vendor program and with the Senator
probing each
of them with specific questions regarding their
agency's
lack of compliance with the law. Senator Randolph had
heard our
message, and he did his best to help bring out the
issues.
Later, he made his commitment clear as some of us met with
him during
lunch in the Senate dining room while the Subcommittee
staff took
testimony from other witnesses, including the American
Council of
the Blind. Specifically, we discussed how best to use
the results
of this hearing to improve the situation for blind
vendors, and
we agreed on the approach of establishing an action
agenda for
solving specific issues. Already we have initiated this
process with
an on-the-spot investigation of some problems in the
blind vending
program in West Virginia, but much more remains to be
done.

With the oversight hearing concluded, we
set to work on other
legislative
concerns; high among them, of course, our continued
drive for
minimum wage protection for blind people. In the March
issue of
the Braille Monitor
we described a rule-making petition
which the
NFB has filed with the U.S. Department of Labor, but this
does not
spell an end to our efforts to achieve the same goal
legislatively.
In fact, the work in the Congress on this is very
much in high
gear. On April 26, Congressman Phillip Burton
introduced
the Minimum Wage for the Blind bill once again; the
number for
this Congress is H.R. 3764, and the bill is identical to
H.R. 8104,
which Mr. Burton introduced in the 95th Congress and
which
stirred up much interest, including attracting the Wall
Street
Journal 's awareness through the hearing which was held.

Elsewhere in this issue we will reprint the fact sheet used by Federation representatives
to explain the current law and its negative impact on the earning power and
the personal dignity of productive blind workers. This fact sheet should be
helpful to all Federationists in asking for support and co-sponsorship of H.R.
3764 by the members of the House of Representatives. In fact, all members of
the House should be asked to co-sponsor the Minimum Wage for the Blind bill,
and they should inform Phillip Burton of their desire to do so. Soon we hope
to announce some action on a Senate version of this bill, but for now our attention
must be focused on the House.

With respect to minimum wage, it is
important to note that
the new
chairman of the Labor Standards Subcommittee (the
Subcommittee
in the House to which H.R. 3764 has been assigned) is
Congressman
Edward Beard of Rhode Island (a real friend of the
Federation)
and a co-sponsor of Mr. Burton's minimum wage bill in
the 95th
Congress. During the March we met with Mr. Beard to
discuss
plans for this legislation in the present Congress, since
he is now in
the position of scheduling Subcommittee action. While
at this
stage there are no specific target dates for Subcommittee
consideration
of the bill, there is every reason to believe that
H.R. 3764
will not sit idle during Mr. Beard's tenure as chairman
of the Labor
Standards Subcommittee, and yet much, of course, will
depend on
what we do to gather support for the bill. As we made the rounds on Capitol Hill,
we also called
attention to
the continuing problem of discrimination against the
blind in
employment. On February 22, Senator Harrison Williams,
chairman of
the Senate Committee on Labor and Human Resources
introduced a
bill known as the Equal Employment
Opportunity for
the
Handicapped Act, which promises substantially
increased civil
rights
protection for persons having handicapping conditions as
defined in
the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. The number of Senator
William's
bill is S. 446, and we are currently working to enlist
Senate
co-sponsors. The fact sheet which can be used to explain the
employment
discrimination against blind people which occurs and the
potential
advantages of S. 446 appears elsewhere. Our efforts in
generating
interest for this legislation were highly successful,
and Senate
hearings are now scheduled for June 20th and 21st.
Meanwhile,
in the House of Representatives we met with Carl
Perkins,
chairman of the House Education and Labor Committee, who
agreed to
support this legislation actively through his leadership
position in
the House, and we assembled a long list of
Representatives
who indicated their desire to co-sponsor the
companion
bill to S. 446 when it is introduced in the House. At
this
writing, it is too early to announce the number of the House
bill, but
members of the House of Representatives who wish to
co-sponsor
the Equal Employment Opportunity for the Handicapped Act
should be
advised to inform Mr. Perkins of their support. This will
help the
legislation get underway in the House with a long list of
sponsors.

Passage of S. 446 can be seen as the
next phase of civil
rights
protection for blind and handicapped persons which began
with our
work on the model white cane laws at the state level over
the past
decade. Also, with the help of Federation support, several
states have
included the disabled in the state civil rights laws,
and it has
long been our objective (confirmed in resolution 78-24)
to expand
our civil rights protection into federal law. Senator
William's
bill (and the companion bill to be introduced in the
House)
offers hope that this may now be achieved.
Of course, we must never visit Capitol
Hill without
continuing
to talk about the need for improvements in the Social
Security
Disability Insurance program. At the end of the 95th
Congress,
James Burke, who had sponsored our Disability Insurance
bills and
helped us achieve some progress, retired, leaving the
chairmanship
of the Social Security Subcommittee in the House of
Representatives
to Congressman J.J. Pickle of Texas. Unfortunately,
Mr. Pickle
is not yet of the same persuasion regarding our plans
for changing
the Social Security Disability Insurance program, so
chances for
favorable action at the Subcommittee or Committee level
(that is,
the House Ways and Means Committee) have dimmed.

Nonetheless, our efforts to attract supporters to the concept of improved
Disability Insurance for the blind must continue. The fact sheet which explains
the history of the proposed legislation and the need for it will also be found
elsewhere in this issue, along with Dr. Jernigan's article, "Why Should
the Blind Receive Disability Insurance?" (revised and updated to reflect
the 1977 Amendments to the Social Security Act).

At least ten members of the House have introduced identical Disability Insurance
for the Blind bills in the 96th Congress. The first of these is H.R. 1037, by
Congressman Henry B. Gonzalez of Texas. Other members who support this legislation
should also be encouraged to introduce identical bills. Although it is too early
to announce the number yet, Senator Dennis DeConcini of Arizona will soon be
introducing a Senate version of this bill, and Senators should be urged to co-sponsor
by contacting Senator DeConcini.

At this stage in the 96th Congress it
appears that there may
be a serious
effort to enact legislation making a number of changes
in the
Social Security Disability Insurance program, but many of
these would
merely aggravate the problems which now exist in the
system
rather than solving them. For this reason, we must continue
to inform
our Senators and Representatives that the Social Security
Disability
Insurance program fails to meet our needs and helps to
keep blind
people out of the workforce.

While the foregoing legislative concerns represent longstanding commitments
of the Federation to improve the lives of blind people, it also became necessary
for us to deal spontaneously with a problem related to our public image as represented
by the statement of Joseph Hendrie, chairman of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission,
comparing the confusion at the Three Mile Island Nuclear Plant in Pennsylvania
to a couple of blind men staggering around making decisions. This statement
of Dr. Hendrie's was quoted in the national news media only a few days in advance
of our March on Washington, and it was clear to everyone that we ought to make
a response. This we did in the form of a resolution, which read:
WHEREAS, the official transcript of the
Nuclear Regulatory
Commission
(NRC) held on March 30, 1979, quotes NRC Chairman,
Joseph M.
Hendrie, as saying: It's like a couple
of blind men
staggering
around making decisions,in describing
the actions of
officials in
dealing with problems at the Three Mile Island Nuclear
Power
Generating Facility; and

WHEREAS, Chairman Hendrie's statement demonstrates his personal ignorance
and represents the traditional false stereotypes about the helpless and incompetent
blind; and
WHEREAS, the principle problem faced by
blind men and women
not actively
participating in the mainstream of American life is
the lack of
understanding about blindness which exists resulting in
widespread
discrimination against the blind; and

WHEREAS, Chairman Hendrie's statement
can only serve to erode
further the
public attitude about blindness with the result that it
will reduce
the chances of full participation in the social and
economic
life of this country; and

WHEREAS, Chairman Hendrie's gross insensitivity is amplified by his high public
office: NOW,
THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED by the representatives of the National Federation
of the Blind assembled in Washington, D.C., April 29, 1979, that we demand a
public apology by Chairman Joseph M. Hendrie, accompanied by a public commitment
to off-set the negative impact of his remarks by establishing the goal of making
the Nuclear Regulatory Commission a model employer of blind persons at all levels.

During the March this resolution was hand-carried to Dr. Hendrie's office,
and so far the response has been a great deal of hand-wringing and some stumbling
words of apology, but no commitment yet to do it publicly. It seems that Dr.
Hendrie is a bit skittish about facing the television cameras these days.

From all of this, it is clear that
despite the beautiful
spring weather
which graced Washington during the first week of
May, the
Federationists who assembled for this year's March had
little time
to enjoy the scenery. While we had hoped to visit in
the office
of every member of Congress, we fell just a little short
of this
goal, hitting nearly 500, which is not too bad considering
that there
are 535 in all. Of course, the work was hard, but
already the
results show that it was well done and a worthwhile
investment.
And speaking of investments, once again we were able to
conduct this
March on Washington without draining funds from our
precious
Federation reserves, for those who came realized the
necessity to
finance the effort and in the end contributed nearly
$2,000,
which met the inevitable expenses in sponsoring such a
gathering.
This, along with the hours of dedicated labor which went
into making
the 1979 March on Washington one of our best, shows the
true depth
of commitment which characterizes the NFB and
distinguishes
us as a movement. Often those who would like to keep
us from
speaking and thinking for ourselves wonder why it is that
we continue
to surmount the many obstacles they try to erect in our
path, but
there is no need to wonder, for the Federation is sound
and growing in
strength, numbers, and commitment every day. Let
anyone who
wonders about this check the record of our 1979 March,
for therein
lies the evidence of a viable and vibrant movement,
which, over
the long haul and the short run is absolutely
unstoppable.

The Spirit of '73

For each decade in the life of the
National Federation of the
Blind, there
has been one year in particular that seems to
represent a
hallmark, somehow capturing and symbolizing the spirit
of the age.
For the seventies, although each successive year
reflected
new achievements in the organized blind movement, there
was none
quite like the year 1973. It was then, as we have noted,
that the
annual March on Washington was initiated. It was in that
year that
the national leadership seminars one of the most
significant
innovations of the first Jernigan presidency got
underway. It
was in 1973 that the registration of delegates at the
annual
convention first went over 1,500. And it was in 1973 that
the
NAC Attack
(the demonstrations by the organized blind at
top-level
NAC meetings) mustered over 1,500 picketers in New York
City.

Moreover, it was in 1973, at the New York
convention, that
President
Kenneth Jernigan delivered the first in a series of three
annual
banquet addresses that represented a distinct departure from
his
customary style and method though not from his basic philosophy
and
doctrine. Each of these interconnected speeches presented, in
its title, a
pertinent and perplexing question about blindness and
the blind and
then answered it, not merely thoughtfully but on the
basis of
extensive research. In 1973 the banquet speech was
entitled
"Blindness: Is History Against Us."
The following year the
President's
address bore the title, "Blindness: Is
Literature
Against Us"
and in 1975 it was "Blindness: Is the Public Against
Us. "

The distinctive tone of all of these public addresses was established at the
outset. To the questionIs history against us? Jernigan answered with both a
yes and a no. We all know what the historical record tells us,he said. It tells
us that, until only yesterday, blind people were completely excluded from the
ranks of the normal community. Only lately, it would seem, have blind people
begun stealthily to emerge from the shadows and to move in the direction of
independence and self-sufficiency.

From what histories and historians have
told us, said
Jernigan,
it would seem that the blind have moved
through time and
the world
not only sightless but faceless a people without
distinguishing
features, anonymous and insignificant not so much as
rippling the
stream of history.

Nonsense! he exclaimed.That is not
fact but fable. That is
not truth
but a lie. In reality the accomplishments of blind people
through the
centuries have been out of all proportion to their
numbers.
There are genius, and fame, and adventure, and enormous
versatility
of achievement not just once in a great while but again
and again,
over and over.

Now, said Jernigan, we are at a point in time when the story of the blind
(the true and real story) must be told. For too long the blind have been (not
unwept, for there has been too much of that) but unhonored and unsung. Let us,
at long last, redress the balance and right the wrong. Let us now praise our
famous men and celebrate the exploits of blind heroes. Rediscovering our true
history, we shall, in our turn, be better able to make history; for when people
(seeing or blind) come to know the truth, the truth will set them free.

President Jernigan went on, in this 1973
address, to relate a
history of
blindness never told before in quite this way, a story
not of gloom
and doom but of genuine progress and quickening
prospect
although he pointed out that the history remained
unfinished
and that the next chapters must be written by the blind
themselves.
Napoleon is supposed to have said that
history is a
legend
agreed upon. If this is true, then we the blind are in the
process of
negotiating a new agreement, with a legend conforming
more nearly
to the truth and the spirit of the dignity of man.

This Jernigan speech presented at the 1973 convention had (not only on the
banquet audience who heard it that night but on the blind of the nation) an
impact which changed lives and remained undiminished through the years. It gave
to blind people a new and unexpected source of pride in themselves the pride
that comes from having a history and more importantly it gave them a sense of
their own capacity to make a difference: to steer their own lives and to shape
their own destiny. In the years that followed this landmark address, more and
more historical writings began to appear in the Braille Monitor and other
periodicals, telling of remarkable deeds and contributions by blind persons
and groups. It might indeed be said that, in a genuine sense, the 1973 speech
not only presented a new history of blindness but opened up a new future as
well.

The text of the speech follows: BLINDNESS:
IS HISTORY AGAINST US

In 1974, at the Federation's convention in Chicago, Kenneth
Jernigan
undertook a significant variation on the theme of his earlier speech on history and the blind. Last year, he said in
his banquet
address, I examined with you the place
of the blind in
history not
just what we have done but what the historians have
remembered
and said we have done. The two, as we found, are vastly
different.
This year I would like to talk with you about the place
of the blind
in literature. How have we been perceived? What has
been our
role? How have the poets and novelists, the essayists and
dramatists,
seen us? Have they 'told it like it is,' or merely
liked it as
they told it?

In addressing his topic question
Blindness: Is Literature
Against
UsJernigan noted that the literary
record reveals no
single theme
or viewpoint regarding the blind but instead displays
a
bewildering variety of images. Yet he claimed to find, upon
closer
examination of the world of fiction and poetry, of myth and
fairy tale,
a set of nine separate themes or motifs that recurred
again and
again. These themes were summarized in a graphic list:

blindness as compensatory or miraculous
power; blindness as
total
tragedy; blindness as foolishness and helplessness; blindness
as
unrelieved wickedness and evil; blindness as perfect virtue;
blindness as
punishment for sin; blindness as abnormality or
dehumanization;
blindness as purification; and blindness as symbol
or parable.

Each of these recurrent themes was traced
to its sources and
varied
expressions in literature and each one in turn was then
exposed as
false, fraudulent, or (at best)
fictitious in the full
sense of the
term. In its multitudinous parade of authors and its
array of illustrations
and examples as well as in the scholarship
which lay
behind the writing this 1974 address was an effective
counterpart
to the previous speech on history and historiography
and, like
that one, its answer to the key question was complicated.
Here is how
it was summed up:

To the question: "Is literature against us?", there can be no unqualified
response. If we consider only the past, the answer is certainly yes. We have
had a bad press. If we consider the present, the answer is mixed. There are
signs of change, but the old stereotypes and false images still predominate.
If we turn to the future, the answer is that the future in literature as in
life is not predetermined but self-determined. As we shape our lives, singly
and collectively, so will we shape our literature.

The full text follows: BLINDNESS: IS LITERATURE
AGAINST US

Kenneth Jernigan's more or less extra-curricular talents as a scholar of history
and a critic of culture notably displayed in the successive banquet speeches
dealing with blindness in history and in literature became increasingly familiar
to Federationists and other readers of the Braille Monitor during the
seventies through the publication of a number of informal essays addressed not
to the day-to-day problems of the movement but to more theoretical, and occasionally
playful, matters of thought and learning. One such essay, which appeared in
the Braille Monitor in 1973, was entitled "A Left-Handed Dissertation."
Its satirical use of analogy served the purpose of underlining the status of
the blind as a minority group, subject to much the same differential treatment
and suspicious regard as other minorities. The analogy of blindness with left-handedness
was on the order of a parable or cautionary fable, pointing a moral which did
not lose its cogency with the passing of the years.

A Left-Handed Dissertation: Open Letter to a Federationist
The 1975 convention of the National Federation of the Blind was again held
in Chicago, where the 1972 and 1974 conventions had been so dynamic and successful.
The mood of the delegates was confident, enthusiastic, and upbeat as President
Jernigan reflected that mood in his banquet address, "Blindness: Is the
Public Against Us."

Despite the exclusions and denials, he said, we are better off now than we
have ever been. It is not that conditions are worse today than they were ten
or twenty years ago, but only that we are more aware of them. In the past we
wouldn't have known of their existence, and even if we had, we wouldn't have
been able to do anything about it. Today we are organized, and actively in the
field. The sound in the land is the march of the blind to freedom. The song
is a song of gladness.

The situation of the blind, Jernigan said, had to be viewed in perspective
and the behavior of the blind must be flexible enough to meet the need. We must
use both love and a club, he said, and we must have sense enough to know when
to do which long on compassion, short on hatred; and, above all, not using our
philosophy as a cop out for cowardice or inaction or rationalization.

As to the question posed in the title of his speech, Jernigan gave a resounding
answer of affirmation and buoyant belief in the future. The public is not against
us, he said. Our determination proclaims it; our gains confirm it; our humanity
demands it.

This address received a great deal of attention from the media throughout the
nation and led to an invitation to Jernigan to speak at a National Press Club
luncheon in Washington. The luncheon occurred shortly after the convention,
and Jernigan's Press Club speech (which was a variant of the banquet address)
was carried nationwide on National Public Radio. The complete text of the banquet
address follows: BLINDNESS: IS THE PUBLIC
AGAINST US

When the delegates assembled in Los Angeles for the 1976 National Federation
of the Blind convention, they had much to celebrate. Andrew Adams, the commissioner
of the Rehabilitation Services Administration, had responded affirmatively to
their request that federal funds no longer be used to support the regressive
National Accreditation Council for Agencies Serving the Blind and Visually Handicapped
(NAC); the Federation's radio and television announcements were blanketing the
nation; all fifty states and the District of Columbia were now represented in
the organization; and Federation influence and prestige had never been greater.
It was in this context and setting that the Federation's President delivered
one of his most stirring banquet addresses, "Blindness: Of Visions and
Vultures."

He began with a parable concerning a vulture sitting in the branches of a
dead tree, and there were many in the audience who thought it referred to some
of the more custodial agencies in the blindness system. Repeatedly during the
speech President Jernigan returned to a central theme. We know who we are, he
said, and we will never go back. The vulture sits in the branches of a dead
tree, and we see where the wings join the body.

Again in 1976 (as he had done in 1975) Jernigan sounded a note of optimism
and hope. It is not, he said, that our situation is worse or our problems greater
today than in former times. Far from it. It is only that we have become aware
and that our level of expectation has risen. In other days we would hardly have
noticed, and even if we had, we would not have been organized to communicate
or prepared to resist. We have it better now than we have ever had it before,
and tomorrow is bright with promise.

The text of the 1976 banquet address follows: BLINDNESS:
OF VISIONS AND VULTURES

The termination of the nine-year tenure in office which would come to be known
as the First Jernigan Presidency came with shocking abruptness in New Orleans
in 1977 through the unexpected resignation of the movement's leader for reasons
of health. Jernigan's resignation, announced at the end of his annual presidential
report to the National Convention, left the delegates no choice but to agree
on a successor to the highest office. They selected the Federation's Second
Vice President, Ralph Sanders, to fill the vacancy; but, as the Braille Monitor
was to report, the voting was unenthusiastic and reluctant. Here is part of
what the Monitor had to say about the event:

When President Jernigan announced his resignation at the conclusion of the
first day of the convention, the room was filled with cries of No! expressing
the unwillingness of Federationists to hear and accept what was being said.
As President Jernigan went on to say that were his health to improve he might
one day again seek the presidency, he was interrupted once more, this time by
a prolonged and tumultuous ovation. This was the first of many outpourings of
the intense affection and loyalty to this man felt by the members of the Federation.
Both responses recalled the events of a decade earlier when the movement lost
the leadership of another giant in the affairs of the blind.

Thus ended the period of unparalleled peace and prosperity within the organized
blind movement a period already coming to be known as the democratic decade
which had begun with the arrival of Kenneth Jernigan in the presidency and was
closing with his unsought and unwanted departure. There was one thing more for
him to do before he took his leave: to rise before the largest banquet audience
in Federation history (well over 1,700) and deliver what was then regarded as
his valedictory address. He made the most of the occasion, as everyone there
knew he would taking as his text the Biblical passage which proclaims "To
everything there is a season". President Jernigan began by observing: There
was a time for me to be President of this organization. That time is no more.
A new President now comes to the stage; a new era now begins in the movement.

He went on: What, then, (at this final banquet on this last night of my presidency)
shall I say to you what that we have not already jointly discussed and collectively
experienced during the past quarter of a century? In articles and speeches,
in public pronouncements, and in literally thousands of letters I have set forth
my beliefs and declared my faith in the capacity of the blind and the need for
collective action.

As President of the Federation, I have always tried to see our movement in
broad context attempting to ease the losses and temper the victories with a
sense of perspective. So, on this night, let us talk of history and look to
the future assessing where we are by where we have been and where we are going.

The attentive audiences at convention banquets through the democratic decade
had often been touched by the eloquence of their President; but on this warm
New Orleans evening, sharing an historic moment and dreading its inevitable
end, they were moved as rarely before on these significant annual occasions.
For they knew, every man and woman in the throng of Federationists, that they
were not just talking of history here with their leader and mentor they were
making it. This is the speech they heard: TO EVERY THING THERE IS A SEASON
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