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.
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.
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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