Full Transcript: President Barack Obama’s farewell speech
Mere miles from where Barack Obama gave his
presidential victory speech in Grant Park, Chicago, eight years ago, he
delivered a symbolic farewell speech at Chicago’s McCormick Place Tuesday night.
It’s not the first time Obama has taken the opportunity
to reflect on his administration’s accomplishments. But after monumental
losses for Democrats in the last election, his farewell speech was
geared toward what’s next.
"It's a passing of the baton" to the next generation of
Democrats, White House spokesperson Jen Psaki told a group of reporters
before the speech, according to the Chicago Tribune.
Donald Trump may be taking the White House as a fairly unpopular president, but Obama will leave the office with extremely high favorability and as a respected figure among Democrats. He
won’t be going too far away either, with plans to stay in Washington,
DC, after leaving office until his youngest daughter finishes high
school. And Obama has made it clear that while he is
determined to give President-elect Trump the space to govern, he will
not be a silent bystander if American values are at stake, previously
having cited his staunch opposition to Trump’s proposed immigration
plans and ban on Muslims entering the country.
“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,” Obama said Tuesday.
Tuesday night’s speech was a call to action in that
regard, aimed at mobilizing Democrats in the coming elections — the
nearest being the 2018 midterms, which are already shaping up to be
challenging for Democrats — and sharing “what the president believes is
necessary for us to confront the challenges that lie ahead,” White House
press secretary Josh Earnest said Monday.
All the while, however, Obama was adamant about remaining
positive. His farewell speech came full circle in another sense:
hammering home the same mantra of hope from his first presidential
campaign.
“Yes, we can. Yes, we did. Yes, we can,” he said closing his farewell.
Here is a transcript of Obama’s farewell remarks, as prepared for delivery and released by the White House.
Farewell Address by the President – As Prepared for Delivery
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.
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.
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. 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.”
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 who are just as patriotic as we are. 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.
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
twenty-five 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.
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