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By Root 7088 0

Copeland. ‘Land, clay, timber--those things are called natural resources. Man does not make these natural resources--man only develops them, only uses them for work. Therefore should any one person or group of persons own these things? How can a man own ground and space and sunlight and rain for crops? How can a man say "this is mine" about those things and refuse to let others share them? Therefore Marx says that these natural resources should belong to everyone, not divided into little pieces but used by all the people according to their ability to work. It is like this. Say a man died and left his mule to his four sons. The sons would not wish to cut up the mule to four parts and each take his share. They would own and work the mule together. That is the way Marx says all of the natural resources should be owned--not by one group of rich people but by all the workers of the world as a whole.

‘We in this room have no private properties. Perhaps one or two of us may own the homes we live in, or have a dollar or two set aside--but we own nothing that does not contribute directly toward keeping us alive. All that we own is our bodies. And we sell our bodies every day we live. We sell them when we go out in the morning to our jobs and when we labor all day. We are forced to sell at any price, at any time, for any purpose. We are forced to sell our bodies so that we can eat and live. And the price which is given us for this is only enough so that we will have the strength to labor longer for the profits of others. Today we are not put up on the platforms and sold at the courthouse square. But we are forced to sell our strength, our time, our souls during almost every hour that we live. We have been freed from one kind of slavery only to be delivered into another. Is this freedom? Are we yet free men?’ A deep voice called out from the front yard. ‘That the real truth! That how things is!’ .And we are not alone in this slavery. There are millions of others throughout the world, of all colors and races and creeds. This we must remember. There are many of our people who hate the poor of the white race, and they hate us. The people in this town living by the river who work in the mills.

People who are almost as much in need as we are ourselves.

This hatred is a great evil, and no good can ever come from it.

We must remember the words of Karl Marx and see the truth according to his teachings. The injustice of need must bring us all together and not separate us. We must remember that we all make the things of this earth of value because of our labor.

These main truths from Karl Marx we must keep in our hearts always and not forget. ‘But my people! We in this room--we Negroes--have another mission that is for ourselves alone. Within us there is a strong, true purpose, and if we fail in this purpose we will be forever lost. Let us see, then, what is the nature of this special mission.’

Doctor Copeland loosened the collar of his shirt, for in his throat there was a choked feeling. The grievous love he felt within him was too much. He looked around him at the hushed guests. They waited. The groups of people in the yard and on the porch stood with the same quiet attention as did those in the room. A deaf old man leaned forward with his hand to his ear. A woman hushed a fretful baby with a pacifier. Mr. Singer stood attentively in the doorway. Most of the young people sat on the floor. Among them was Lancy Davis. The boy’s lips were nervous and pale. He clasped his knees very tightly with his arms, and his young face was sullen. All the eyes in the room watched, and in them there was hunger for truth.

‘Today we are to confer the five-dollar award upon the high-school student who wrote the best essay on the topic, "My Ambition: How I can Better the Position of the Negro Race in Society." This year the award goes to Lancy Davis.’ Doctor Copeland took an envelope from his pocket. ‘There is no need for me to tell you that the value of this award is not wholly in the sum of money it represents--but the sacred trust and faith that goes