Happy Fourth of July
Perhaps the greatest historical moments and insights pass by
us unseen, unnoticed, and quickly forgotten.
In the case of American statesmen, such is often the feeling – even as
they, especially Presidents suffering the long grind of office, sadly recognize
their own vanishing influence. Recall
Lincoln’s comments 154 years ago that what he would say over the fields of
45,000 dead: “the world will little note nor long remember what we say here…”
But those 272 words – a two to three minute consecration of
the planned cemetery in Gettysburg – identifying the significance of our
democratic philosophy, and the importance of a terrible civil war’s coming
end.
In that spirit, I offer this inspiring read from an adult
who spoke rather than employed electronic shorthand, who thought deeply about
our country and its responsibility to the world: our citizens, to each
other.
With all the assaults and hurly-burly, it may seem centuries
old, but it was delivered a scant 6 months ago.
Read...and gain strength again.
Farewell speech of
Barack Obama delivered in Chicago in January of 2017.
“It’s
good to be home. My fellow Americans, Michelle and I have been so touched
by all the well-wishes we’ve received over the past few weeks. But
tonight it’s my turn to say thanks. Whether we’ve seen eye-to-eye or
rarely agreed at all, my conversations with you, the American people – in
living rooms and schools; at farms and on factory floors; at diners and on
distant outposts – are what have kept me honest, kept me inspired, and kept me
going. Every day, I learned from you. You made me a better
president, and you made me a better man.
I
first came to Chicago when I was in my early 20s, still trying to figure out
who I was; still searching for a purpose to my life. It was in
neighborhoods not far from here where I began working with church groups in the
shadows of closed steel mills. It was on these streets where I witnessed
the power of faith, and the quiet dignity of working people in the face of
struggle and loss. This is where I learned that change only happens when
ordinary people get involved, get engaged, and come together to demand
it.
After
eight years as your president, I still believe that. And it’s not just my
belief. It’s the beating heart of our American idea – our bold experiment
in self-government.
It’s
the conviction that we are all created equal, endowed by our creator with
certain unalienable rights, among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness.
It’s
the insistence that these rights, while self-evident, have never been
self-executing; that we, the people, through the instrument of our democracy,
can form a more perfect union.
This
is the great gift our Founders gave us. The freedom to chase our
individual dreams through our sweat, toil, and imagination – and the imperative
to strive together as well, to achieve a greater good.
For
240 years, our nation’s call to citizenship has given work and purpose to each
new generation. It’s what led patriots to choose republic over tyranny,
pioneers to trek west, slaves to brave that makeshift railroad to
freedom. It’s what pulled immigrants and refugees across oceans and the
Rio Grande, pushed women to reach for the ballot, powered workers to
organize. It’s why GIs gave their lives at Omaha Beach and Iwo Jima; Iraq
and Afghanistan – and why men and women from Selma to Stonewall were prepared
to give theirs as well.
So
that’s what we mean when we say America is exceptional. Not that our
nation has been flawless from the start, but that we have shown the capacity to
change, and make life better for those who follow.
Yes,
our progress has been uneven. The work of democracy has always been hard,
contentious and sometimes bloody. For every two steps forward, it often
feels we take one step back. But the long sweep of America has been
defined by forward motion, a constant widening of our founding creed to embrace
all, and not just some.
If
I had told you eight years ago that America would reverse a great recession,
reboot our auto industry, and unleash the longest stretch of job creation in
our history…if I had told you that we would open up a new chapter with the
Cuban people, shut down Iran’s nuclear weapons program without firing a shot,
and take out the mastermind of 9/11…if I had told you that we would win
marriage equality, and secure the right to health insurance for another 20
million of our fellow citizens – you might have said our sights were set a
little too high.
But
that’s what we did. That’s what you did. You were the change.
You answered people’s hopes, and because of you, by almost every measure,
America is a better, stronger place than it was when we started.
In
10 days, the world will witness a hallmark of our democracy: the peaceful
transfer of power from one freely elected president to the next. I
committed to President-elect Trump that my administration would ensure the smoothest possible
transition, just as President Bush did for me. Because it’s up to all of
us to make sure our government can help us meet the many challenges we still
face.
We
have what we need to do so. After all, we remain the wealthiest, most
powerful, and most respected nation on Earth. Our youth and drive, our
diversity and openness, our boundless capacity for risk and reinvention mean
that the future should be ours.
But
that potential will be realized only if our democracy works. Only if our
politics reflects the decency of the our people. Only if all of us,
regardless of our party affiliation or particular interest, help restore the
sense of common purpose that we so badly need right now.
That’s
what I want to focus on tonight – the state of our democracy.
Understand,
democracy does not require uniformity. Our founders quarreled and
compromised, and expected us to do the same. But they knew that democracy does
require a basic sense of solidarity – the idea that for all our outward
differences, we are all in this together; that we rise or fall as one.
There
have been moments throughout our history that threatened to rupture that
solidarity. The beginning of this century has been one of those
times. A shrinking world, growing inequality; demographic change and the
specter of terrorism – these forces haven’t just tested our security and
prosperity, but our democracy as well. And how we meet these challenges
to our democracy will determine our ability to educate our kids, and create
good jobs, and protect our homeland.
In
other words, it will determine our future.
Our
democracy won’t work without a sense that everyone has economic
opportunity. Today, the economy is growing again; wages, incomes, home
values, and retirement accounts are rising again; poverty is falling
again. The wealthy are paying a fairer share of taxes even as the stock
market shatters records. The unemployment rate is near a 10-year
low. The uninsured rate has never, ever been lower. Healthcare
costs are rising at the slowest rate in 50 years. And if anyone can put
together a plan that is demonstrably better than the improvements we’ve made to
our healthcare system – that covers as many people at less cost – I will
publicly support it.
That,
after all, is why we serve – to make people’s lives better, not worse.
But
for all the real progress we’ve made, we know it’s not enough. Our
economy doesn’t work as well or grow as fast when a few prosper at the expense
of a growing middle class. But stark inequality is also corrosive to our
democratic principles. While the top 1% has amassed a bigger share of
wealth and income, too many families, in inner cities and rural counties, have
been left behind – the laid-off factory worker; the waitress and healthcare
worker who struggle to pay the bills – convinced that the game is fixed against
them, that their government only serves the interests of the powerful – a
recipe for more cynicism and polarization in our politics.
There
are no quick fixes to this long-term trend. I agree that our trade should
be fair and not just free. But the next wave of economic dislocation
won’t come from overseas. It will come from the relentless pace of
automation that makes many good, middle-class jobs obsolete.
And
so we must forge a new social compact – to guarantee all our kids the education
they need; to give workers the power to unionize for better wages; to update
the social safety net to reflect the way we live now and make more reforms to
the tax code so corporations and individuals who reap the most from the new
economy don’t avoid their obligations to the country that’s made their success
possible. We can argue about how to best achieve these goals. But
we can’t be complacent about the goals themselves. For if we don’t create
opportunity for all people, the disaffection and division that has stalled our
progress will only sharpen in years to come.
There’s
a second threat to our democracy – one as old as our nation itself. After
my election, there was talk of a post-racial America. Such a vision,
however well-intended, was never realistic. For race remains a potent and
often divisive force in our society. I’ve lived long enough to know that
race relations are better than they were 10, or 20, or 30 years ago – you can
see it not just in statistics, but in the attitudes of young Americans across
the political spectrum.
But
we’re not where we need to be. All of us have more work to do.
After all, if every economic issue is framed as a struggle between a
hard-working white middle class and undeserving minorities, then workers of all
shades will be left fighting for scraps while the wealthy withdraw further into
their private enclaves. If we decline to invest in the children of
immigrants, just because they don’t look like us, we diminish the prospects of
our own children – because those brown kids will represent a larger share of
America’s workforce. And our economy doesn’t have to be a zero-sum
game. Last year, incomes rose for all races, all age groups, for men and
for women.
Going
forward, we must uphold laws against discrimination – in hiring, in housing, in
education and the criminal justice system. That’s what our Constitution
and highest ideals require. But laws alone won’t be enough. Hearts
must change. If our democracy is to work in this increasingly diverse
nation, each one of us must try to heed the advice of one of the great
characters in American fiction, Atticus Finch, who said, “You never really
understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you
climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
For
blacks and other minorities, it means tying our own struggles for justice to
the challenges that a lot of people in this country face – the refugee, the
immigrant, the rural poor, the transgender American, and also the middle-aged
white man who from the outside may seem like he’s got all the advantages, but
who’s seen his world upended by economic, cultural, and technological
change.
For
white Americans, it means acknowledging that the effects of slavery and Jim
Crow didn’t suddenly vanish in the ‘60s; that when minority groups voice
discontent, they’re not just engaging in reverse racism or practicing political
correctness; that when they wage peaceful protest, they’re not demanding
special treatment, but the equal treatment our Founders promised.
For
native-born Americans, it means reminding ourselves that the stereotypes about
immigrants today were said, almost word for word, about the Irish, Italians,
and Poles. America wasn’t weakened by the presence of these newcomers;
they embraced this nation’s creed, and it was strengthened.
So
regardless of the station we occupy; we have to try harder; to start with the
premise that each of our fellow citizens loves this country just as much as we
do; that they value hard work and family like we do; that their children are
just as curious and hopeful and worthy of love as our own.
None
of this is easy. For too many of us, it’s become safer to retreat into
our own bubbles, whether in our neighborhoods or college campuses or places of
worship or our social media feeds, surrounded by people who look like us and
share the same political outlook and never challenge our assumptions. The
rise of naked partisanship, increasing economic and regional stratification,
the splintering of our media into a channel for every taste – all this makes
this great sorting seem natural, even inevitable. And increasingly, we
become so secure in our bubbles that we accept only information, whether true
or not, that fits our opinions, instead of basing our opinions on the evidence
that’s out there.
This
trend represents a third threat to our democracy. Politics is a battle of
ideas; in the course of a healthy debate, we’ll prioritize different goals, and
the different means of reaching them. But without some common baseline of
facts; without a willingness to admit new information, and concede that your
opponent is making a fair point, and that science and reason matter, we’ll keep
talking past each other, making common ground and compromise impossible.
Isn’t
that part of what makes politics so dispiriting? How can elected
officials rage about deficits when we propose to spend money on preschool for
kids, but not when we’re cutting taxes for corporations? How do we excuse
ethical lapses in our own party, but pounce when the other party does the same
thing? It’s not just dishonest, this selective sorting of the facts; it’s
self-defeating. Because as my mother used to tell me, reality has a way
of catching up with you.
Take
the challenge of climate change. In just eight years, we’ve halved our
dependence on foreign oil, doubled our renewable energy, and led the world to
an agreement that has the promise to save this planet. But without bolder
action, our children won’t have time to debate the existence of climate change;
they’ll be busy dealing with its effects: environmental disasters, economic
disruptions, and waves of climate refugees seeking sanctuary.
Now,
we can and should argue about the best approach to the problem. But to
simply deny the problem not only betrays future generations; it betrays the
essential spirit of innovation and practical problem-solving that guided our
Founders.
It’s
that spirit, born of the Enlightenment, that made us an economic powerhouse –
the spirit that took flight at Kitty Hawk and Cape Canaveral; the spirit that
that cures disease and put a computer in every pocket.
It’s
that spirit – a faith in reason, and enterprise, and the primacy of right over
might, that allowed us to resist the lure of fascism and tyranny during the
Great Depression, and build a post-World War II order with other democracies,
an order based not just on military power or national affiliations but on
principles – the rule of law, human rights, freedoms of religion, speech,
assembly, and an independent press.
That
order is now being challenged – first by violent fanatics who claim to speak
for Islam; more recently by autocrats in foreign capitals who see free markets,
open democracies, and civil society itself as a threat to their power.
The peril each poses to our democracy is more far-reaching than a car bomb or a
missile. It represents the fear of change; the fear of people who look or
speak or pray differently; a contempt for the rule of law that holds leaders
accountable; an intolerance of dissent and free thought; a belief that the
sword or the gun or the bomb or propaganda machine is the ultimate arbiter of
what’s true and what’s right.
Because
of the extraordinary courage of our men and women in uniform, and the
intelligence officers, law enforcement, and diplomats who support them, no
foreign terrorist organization has successfully planned and executed an attack
on our homeland these past eight years; and although Boston and Orlando remind
us of how dangerous radicalization can be, our law enforcement agencies are
more effective and vigilant than ever. We’ve taken out tens of thousands
of terrorists – including Osama bin Laden. The global coalition we’re
leading against ISIL has taken out their leaders, and taken away about half
their territory. ISIL will be destroyed, and no one who threatens America
will ever be safe. To all who serve, it has been the honor of my lifetime
to be your Commander-in-Chief.
But
protecting our way of life requires more than our military. Democracy can
buckle when we give in to fear. So just as we, as citizens, must remain
vigilant against external aggression, we must guard against a weakening of the
values that make us who we are. That’s why, for the past eight years,
I’ve worked to put the fight against terrorism on a firm legal footing.
That’s why we’ve ended torture, worked to close Gitmo, and reform our laws
governing surveillance to protect privacy and civil liberties. That’s why
I reject discrimination against Muslim Americans. That’s why we cannot
withdraw from global fights – to expand democracy, and human rights, women’s
rights, and LGBT rights – no matter how imperfect our efforts, no matter how expedient
ignoring such values may seem. For the fight against extremism and
intolerance and sectarianism are of a piece with the fight against
authoritarianism and nationalist aggression. If the scope of freedom and
respect for the rule of law shrinks around the world, the likelihood of war
within and between nations increases, and our own freedoms will eventually be
threatened.
So
let’s be vigilant, but not afraid. ISIL will try to kill innocent
people. But they cannot defeat America unless we betray our Constitution
and our principles in the fight. Rivals like Russia or China cannot match
our influence around the world – unless we give up what we stand for, and turn
ourselves into just another big country that bullies smaller neighbors.
Which
brings me to my final point – our democracy is threatened whenever we take it
for granted. All of us, regardless of party, should throw ourselves into
the task of rebuilding our democratic institutions. When voting rates are
some of the lowest among advanced democracies, we should make it easier, not
harder, to vote. When trust in our institutions is low, we should reduce
the corrosive influence of money in our politics, and insist on the principles
of transparency and ethics in public service. When Congress is
dysfunctional, we should draw our districts to encourage politicians to cater
to common sense and not rigid extremes.
And
all of this depends on our participation; on each of us accepting the
responsibility of citizenship, regardless of which way the pendulum of power
swings.
Our
Constitution is a remarkable, beautiful gift. But it’s really just a
piece of parchment. It has no power on its own. We, the people,
give it power – with our participation, and the choices we make. Whether
or not we stand up for our freedoms. Whether or not we respect and
enforce the rule of law. America is no fragile thing. But the gains
of our long journey to freedom are not assured.
In
his own farewell address, George Washington wrote that self-government is the
underpinning of our safety, prosperity, and liberty, but “from different causes
and from different quarters much pains will be taken…to weaken in your minds
the conviction of this truth;” that we should preserve it with “jealous
anxiety;” that we should reject “the first dawning of every attempt to alienate
any portion of our country from the rest or to enfeeble the sacred ties” that
make us one.
We
weaken those ties when we allow our political dialogue to become so corrosive
that people of good character are turned off from public service; so coarse
with rancor that Americans with whom we disagree are not just misguided, but
somehow malevolent. We weaken those ties when we define some of us as
more American than others; when we write off the whole system as inevitably
corrupt, and blame the leaders we elect without examining our own role in
electing them.
It
falls to each of us to be those anxious, jealous guardians of our democracy; to
embrace the joyous task we’ve been given to continually try to improve this
great nation of ours. Because for all our outward differences, we all
share the same proud title: Citizen.
Ultimately,
that’s what our democracy demands. It needs you. Not just when
there’s an election, not just when your own narrow interest is at stake, but
over the full span of a lifetime. If you’re tired of arguing with
strangers on the Internet, try to talk with one in real life. If
something needs fixing, lace up your shoes and do some organizing. If
you’re disappointed by your elected officials, grab a clipboard, get some
signatures, and run for office yourself. Show up. Dive in.
Persevere. Sometimes you’ll win. Sometimes you’ll lose.
Presuming a reservoir of goodness in others can be a risk, and there will be
times when the process disappoints you. But for those of us fortunate
enough to have been a part of this work, to see it up close, let me tell you,
it can energize and inspire. And more often than not, your faith in
America – and in Americans – will be confirmed.
Mine
sure has been. Over the course of these eight years, I’ve seen the
hopeful faces of young graduates and our newest military officers. I’ve
mourned with grieving families searching for answers, and found grace in a
Charleston church. I’ve seen our scientists help a paralyzed man regain
his sense of touch, and our wounded warriors walk again. I’ve seen our
doctors and volunteers rebuild after earthquakes and stop pandemics in their
tracks. I’ve seen the youngest of children remind us of our obligations
to care for refugees, to work in peace, and above all to look out for each
other.
That
faith I placed all those years ago, not far from here, in the power of ordinary
Americans to bring about change – that faith has been rewarded in ways I
couldn’t possibly have imagined. I hope yours has, too. Some of you
here tonight or watching at home were there with us in 2004, in 2008, in 2012 –
and maybe you still can’t believe we pulled this whole thing off.
You’re
not the only ones. Michelle – for the past 25 years, you’ve been not only
my wife and mother of my children, but my best friend. You took on a role
you didn’t ask for and made it your own with grace and grit and style and good
humor. You made the White House a place that belongs to everybody.
And a new generation sets its sights higher because it has you as a role
model. You’ve made me proud. You’ve made the country proud.
Malia
and Sasha, under the strangest of circumstances, you have become two amazing
young women, smart and beautiful, but more importantly, kind and thoughtful and
full of passion. You wore the burden of years in the spotlight so
easily. Of all that I’ve done in my life, I’m most proud to be your
dad.
To
Joe Biden, the scrappy kid from Scranton who became Delaware’s
favorite son: You were the first choice I made as a nominee, and the
best. Not just because you have been a great vice president, but because
in the bargain, I gained a brother. We love you and Jill like family, and
your friendship has been one of the great joys of our life.
To
my remarkable staff: For eight years – and for some of you, a whole lot
more – I’ve drawn from your energy, and tried to reflect back what you
displayed every day: heart, and character, and idealism. I’ve watched you
grow up, get married, have kids, and start incredible new journeys of your
own. Even when times got tough and frustrating, you never let Washington
get the better of you. The only thing that makes me prouder than all the
good we’ve done is the thought of all the remarkable things you’ll achieve from
here.
And
to all of you out there – every organizer who moved to an unfamiliar town and
kind family who welcomed them in, every volunteer who knocked on doors, every
young person who cast a ballot for the first time, every American who lived and
breathed the hard work of change – you are the best supporters and organizers
anyone could hope for, and I will forever be grateful. Because, yes, you
changed the world.
That’s
why I leave this stage tonight even more optimistic about this country than I
was when we started. Because I know our work has not only helped so many
Americans; it has inspired so many Americans – especially so many young people
out there – to believe you can make a difference; to hitch your wagon to
something bigger than yourselves. This generation coming up – unselfish,
altruistic, creative, patriotic – I’ve seen you in every corner of the country.
You believe in a fair, just, inclusive America; you know that constant change
has been America’s hallmark, something not to fear but to embrace, and you are
willing to carry this hard work of democracy forward. You’ll soon
outnumber any of us, and I believe as a result that the future is in good
hands.
My
fellow Americans, it has been the honor of my life to serve you. I won’t
stop; in fact, I will be right there with you, as a citizen, for all my days
that remain. For now, whether you’re young or young at heart, I do have
one final ask of you as your president – the same thing I asked when you took a
chance on me eight years ago.
I
am asking you to believe. Not in my ability to bring about change – but
in yours.
I
am asking you to hold fast to that faith written into our founding documents;
that idea whispered by slaves and abolitionists; that spirit sung by immigrants
and homesteaders and those who marched for justice; that creed reaffirmed by
those who planted flags from foreign battlefields to the surface of the moon; a
creed at the core of every American whose story is not yet written:
Yes
We Can.
Yes
We Did.
Yes
We Can.
Thank
you. God bless you. And may God continue to bless the United States
of America."
