Extract from The Guardian
David Smith reads between the lines of the president’s farewell speech to America after eight years in the White House
President Obama: 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 twenties, 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.
A
variation on Obama’s favourite quotation from Martin Luther King: “The
arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” It
also recalls the official line on Trump’s baffling election: that
history doesn’t always move in a straight line but sometimes zigzags.
The president is trying to provide reassurance that, beyond the ups and
downs of the four-year election cycle, the big picture is positive.
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
ten 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 ten-year low.
The uninsured rate has never, ever been lower. Health care costs are
rising at the slowest rate in fifty years. And if anyone can put
together a plan that is demonstrably better than the improvements we’ve
made to our health care 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 one percent 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 health care 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.
Obama
starts to address the core issues of the 2016 presidential election
campaign. The gap between the 1% and rest was a central cause for Bernie
Sanders, the leftwing Vermont senator who gave Hillary Clinton a scare
in the Democratic primary. The president sees economic forces at work
behind the deep distrust of government that animated outsiders such as
Sanders and Trump. Presumably he fears that Trump will only exacerbate
the problem with his tax cuts for the rich.
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 ten, or twenty, or thirty
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.
The
first African American president addresses race in his final speech.
The idea that his own election meant racism had died overnight was
always fantasy; indeed, there is a danger that a few prominent role
models can lead to complacency, an assumption that the problem is fixed
for everyone. But Obama also rails against the view, sometimes expressed
after videos of racially charged police shootings come to light, that
matters are worse than in the Jim Crow era. He believes that claim
belittles the achievement of civil rights leaders.
After
all, if every economic issue is framed as a struggle between a
hardworking 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.”
Atticus Finch got a
cheer from the crowd in Chicago. The quotation from Harper Lee’s To Kill
a Mockingbird captures the instinctive empathy of Obama, the
multicultural son of an anthropologist. It was one of many silent but
unmistakable shots at Trump, who was endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan and
has hired Steve Bannon, accused of fanning the flames of white
nationalism, as chief strategist. Finch seems to represent basic human
decency.
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.
Obama
tackles one of the hot topics of the election post-mortem. There has
been much commentary about how conservatives and liberals divided into
mutually exclusive “bubbles”, reinforcing one another’s views on
Facebook groups, consuming news that fitted their confirmation bias. The
president has previously noted that, a generation ago, the dominant TV
broadcasters served up a generally agreed set of facts. The current
landscape is a recipe for “post-truth” pick and mix and ever greater
polarisation.
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 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.
Obama
puts his central case for where do we go from here. Don’t let politics
be so poisoned that people are deterred from running for public office.
Don’t embrace a nihilistic cynicism about government and give up on it.
And in the Trump years, more than ever, “show up, dive in, stay at it”.
The young Obama would probably have relished such a time.
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.
Michelle
LaVaughn Robinson of the South Side, for the past 25 years you have not
only been my wife and mother of my children, you have been 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.
It
was the personal, not the political, that moved Obama to tears in his
final presidential address. Michelle had misgivings about him running
for office and what it would mean for the family, but she grew into the
role of first lady and, in many polls, is now more popular than he is.
Even the president’s detractors admire the strength of the marriage and
absence of personal scandal. Next up: Donald and Melania Trump.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment