Barack obama selected sp.., p.56
Barack Obama Selected Speeches, page 56
But, my fellow Americans, this cannot be my task—or any President’s— alone. There are a whole lot of folks in this chamber, good people who would like to see more cooperation, would like to see a more elevated debate in Washington, but feel trapped by the imperatives of getting elected, by the noise coming out of your base. I know; you’ve told me. It’s the worst-kept secret in Washington. And a lot of you aren’t enjoying being trapped in that kind of rancor.
But that means if we want a better politics—and I’m addressing the American people now—if we want a better politics, it’s not enough just to change a congressman or change a senator or even change a President. We have to change the system to reflect our better selves. I think we’ve got to end the practice of drawing our congressional districts so that politicians can pick their voters, and not the other way around. (Applause.) Let a bipartisan group do it. (Applause.)
We have to reduce the influence of money in our politics, so that a handful of families or hidden interests can’t bankroll our elections. (Applause.) And if our existing approach to campaign finance reform can’t pass muster in the courts, we need to work together to find a real solution—because it’s a problem. And most of you don’t like raising money. I know; I’ve done it. (Applause.) We’ve got to make it easier to vote, not harder. (Applause.) We need to modernize it for the way we live now. (Applause.) This is America: We want to make it easier for people to participate. And over the course of this year, I intend to travel the country to push for reforms that do just that.
But I can’t do these things on my own. (Applause.) Changes in our political process—in not just who gets elected, but how they get elected—that will only happen when the American people demand it. It depends on you. That’s what’s meant by a government of, by, and for the people.
What I’m suggesting is hard. It’s a lot easier to be cynical; to accept that change is not possible, and politics is hopeless, and the problem is all the folks who are elected don’t care, and to believe that our voices and actions don’t matter. But if we give up now, then we forsake a better future. Those with money and power will gain greater control over the decisions that could send a young soldier to war, or allow another economic disaster, or roll back the equal rights and voting rights that generations of Americans have fought, even died, to secure. And then, as frustration grows, there will be voices urging us to fall back into our respective tribes, to scapegoat fellow citizens who don’t look like us, or pray like us, or vote like we do, or share the same background.
We can’t afford to go down that path. It won’t deliver the economy we want. It will not produce the security we want. But most of all, it contradicts everything that makes us the envy of the world.
So, my fellow Americans, whatever you may believe, whether you prefer one party or no party, whether you supported my agenda or fought as hard as you could against it—our collective futures depends on your willingness to uphold your duties as a citizen. To vote. To speak out. To stand up for others, especially the weak, especially the vulnerable, knowing that each of us is only here because somebody, somewhere, stood up for us. (Applause.) We need every American to stay active in our public life—and not just during election time—so that our public life reflects the goodness and the decency that I see in the American people every single day.
It is not easy. Our brand of democracy is hard. But I can promise that a little over a year from now, when I no longer hold this office, I will be right there with you as a citizen, inspired by those voices of fairness and vision, of grit and good humor and kindness that helped America travel so far. Voices that help us see ourselves not, first and foremost, as black or white, or Asian or Latino, not as gay or straight, immigrant or native born, not as Democrat or Republican, but as Americans first, bound by a common creed. Voices Dr. King believed would have the final word— voices of unarmed truth and unconditional love.
And they’re out there, those voices. They don’t get a lot of attention; they don’t seek a lot of fanfare; but they’re busy doing the work this country needs doing. I see them everywhere I travel in this incredible country of ours. I see you, the American people. And in your daily acts of citizenship, I see our future unfolding.
I see it in the worker on the assembly line who clocked extra shifts to keep his company open, and the boss who pays him higher wages instead of laying him off.
I see it in the Dreamer who stays up late to finish her science project, and the teacher who comes in early because he knows she might someday cure a disease.
I see it in the American who served his time, and made mistakes as a child but now is dreaming of starting over—and I see it in the business owner who gives him that second chance. The protester determined to prove that justice matters—and the young cop walking the beat, treating everybody with respect, doing the brave, quiet work of keeping us safe. (Applause.)
I see it in the soldier who gives almost everything to save his brothers, the nurse who tends to him till he can run a marathon, the community that lines up to cheer him on.
It’s the son who finds the courage to come out as who he is, and the father whose love for that son overrides everything he’s been taught. (Applause.)
I see it in the elderly woman who will wait in line to cast her vote as long as she has to; the new citizen who casts his vote for the first time; the volunteers at the polls who believe every vote should count—because each of them in different ways know how much that precious right is worth.
That’s the America I know. That’s the country we love. Clear-eyed. Bighearted. Undaunted by challenge. Optimistic that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word. (Applause.) That’s what makes me so hopeful about our future. I believe in change because I believe in you, the American people.
And that’s why I stand here confident as I have ever been that the State of our Union is strong. (Applause.)
Thank you, God bless you. God bless the United States of America.
Building Better Politics Speech
(Illinois State Assembly)
February 10, 2016
__________________
Hey! (Applause.) Thank you! (Applause.) Thank you so much! Thank you, everybody. (Applause.) Thank you! (Applause.) Everybody, please have a seat. Have a seat. Thank you so much.
Mr. Speaker, Mr. President, members of the General Assembly, my fellow Illinoisans: It’s actually kind of fun to start a speech like that twice in one month. (Laughter.)
What an incredible privilege it is to address this chamber. And to Governor Rauner, Senator Durbin, members of Congress, Speaker Madigan, former governor Pat Quinn, Mayor Langfelder and the people of Springfield—thank you for such a warm welcome as I come back home. (Applause.) Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you. It’s good to be home. (Applause.) Thank you, guys. Thank you. Thank you. (Applause.) It is great to see so many old friends like John Cullerton and Emil Jones. I miss you guys.
AUDIENCE MEMBER: Miss you! (Laughter.)
THE PRESIDENT: It’s great to be in the State Capitol. Being here today calls to mind the first time I spoke on the Senate floor, almost 20 years ago. And I was passionate, idealistic, ready to make a difference. Just to stand in that magnificent chamber was enough to fill me up with a heightened sense of purpose.
And I probably needed a little dose of reality when I first arrived. So one day, I rose to speak about a bill. And I thought I’d made some compelling points, with irrefutable logic. (Laughter.) And I was about to sit down, feeling pretty good about myself, when Pate Philip sauntered over to my desk. Now, there are some young people here, so for those of you who don’t remember, Pate Philip was the Senate Majority Leader at the time. He was a Marine, and big shock of white hair, chomped on a cigar; was so politically incorrect that you don’t even know how to describe it. (Laughter.) But he always treated me well. And he came by and he slapped me on the back, he said, “Kid, that was a pretty good speech. In fact, I think you changed a lot of minds. But you didn’t change any votes.” (Laughter.) Then he singled, and they gaveled, and we got blown out. (Laughter.)
So that was my first lesson in humility. The next came when I presented my own first bill. It was a simple piece of legislation that would make it a lot easier for Illinois manufacturers to hire graduating community college students. I didn’t know any serious opposition, so I asked for a vote. And what I got was a good hazing. I assume that this custom still exists. (Applause and laughter.)
So a senior colleague put the vote on hold to ask, “Could you correctly pronounce your name for me? I’m having a little trouble with it.” “Obama,” I said. “Is that Irish?” he asked. (Laughter.) And being in my early 30s at the time, I was a little cocky—I said, “It will be when I run countywide.” (Laughter.) “That was a good joke,” he said, but he wasn’t amused. “This bill is still going to die.”
And he went on to complain that my predecessor’s name was easier to pronounce than mine, that I didn’t have cookies at my desk like she did, how would I ever expect to get any votes without having cookies on my desk. “I definitely urge a no vote,” he said, “whatever your name is.” (Laughter.)
And for the next several minutes, the Senate debated on whether I should add an apostrophe to my name for the Irish, or whether the fact that “Obama” ends in a vowel meant I actually belonged to the Italians— (laughter)—and just how many trees had had to die to print this terrible, miserable bill, anyway.
And I was chastened. And I said, “If I survive this event, I will be eternally grateful and consider this a highlight of my legal and legislative career.” And I asked for a vote. And initially the tote board showed that it was going down, but at the last minute it flipped and my bill passed. But I was duly reminded that I was a freshman in the minority. And I want to thank all my former colleagues in both chambers for not letting me forget it.
To be a rookie in the minority party, as I was, is not much fun in any legislature. We were called “mushrooms”—because we were kept in the dark and fed a lot of manure. (Laughter.) But one benefit of being in such a position—not being invited into the meetings where the big deals were being made—is that I had a lot of time to get to know my colleagues. And many of us were away from our families, and so we became friends.
We went to fish fries together. We’d go to union halls. We’d play in golf scrambles. We had a great bipartisan poker game at the Illinois Manufacturer’s Association. Boro Relijie would host, and folks like Dave Luechtefeld and Terry Link, others would join in. We’d eat downstairs— and I can’t say I miss the horseshoes. (Laughter.) But away from the glare of TV, or the tweets, or the GIFs of today’s media, what we discovered was that despite our surface differences—Democrats and Republicans, downstate hog farmers, inner-city African Americans, suburban businesspeople, Latinos from Pilsen or Little Village—despite those differences, we actually had a lot in common. We cared about our communities. We cared about our families. We cared about America.
We fought hard for our positions. I don’t want to be nostalgic here—we voted against each other all the time. And party lines held most of the time. But those relationships, that trust we’d built meant that we came at each debate assuming the best in one another and not the worst.
I was reminiscing with Christine Radogno—we came in in the same class. And we were on opposite sides of most issues, but I always trusted her and believed that she was a good person. And if we had a bill that we might be able to work together on, it was a pleasure to work with her on. Or Dave Syverson, who—we worked together on the Public Health and Welfare Committee, and we got some important work done that made a difference in people’s lives.
And we didn’t call each other idiots or fascists who were trying to destroy America. Because then we’d have to explain why we were playing poker or having a drink with an idiot or a fascist who was trying to destroy America. (Laughter.)
And that respect gave us room for progress. And after I’d served here for six years, my party finally gained the majority. Emil Jones became the President of the Senate. And by then, I had made some friends across the aisle—like Kirk Dillard, who I believe is here today, and we were able to pass the first serious ethics reform in 25 years. And working closely with law enforcement, who knew by then that we cared about cops and sheriffs and prosecutors. And working with folks like John Cullerton, we passed Illinois’ first racial profiling law, which was good for police officers and minority communities.
And because someone like my friend John Bouman, who worked at the Shriver Center on Poverty Law, helped us build coalitions across the state, including with business, and was able to then reach out to Republicans, we were able to increase tax credits for the working poor and expand health insurance to children in need.
And we wouldn’t bend on our most deeply held principles, but we were willing to forge compromises in pursuit of a larger goal. We were practical when we needed to be. We could fight like heck on one issue and then shake hands on the next. Somebody like Jesse White was able to travel around the state and people didn’t even know what party he was necessarily from because he brought so much joy with the tumblers and the work that they were doing.
So I want you to know that this is why I’ve always believed so deeply in a better kind of politics, in part because of what I learned here in this legislature. Because of what I learned traveling across the state, visiting some of your districts, before I was running statewide, before I was a U.S. senator; learning all the corners of this state—this most representative of states. A state of small towns and rich farmland, and the world’s greatest city. A microcosm of America, where Democrats and Republicans and Independents, and good people of every ethnicity and every faith shared certain bedrock values.
I just saw a story the other day showing that if you rank all 50 states across categories like education levels and household incomes, and race and religion, the one state that most closely mirrors America as a whole is Illinois, this state.
And I learned by talking to your constituents that if you were willing to listen, it was possible to bridge a lot of differences. I learned that most Americans aren’t following the ins and outs of the legislature carefully, but they instinctively know that issues are more complicated than rehearsed sound bites; that they play differently in different parts of the state and in the country. They understand the difference between realism and idealism; the difference between responsibility and recklessness. They had the maturity to know what can and cannot be compromised, and to admit the possibility that the other side just might have a point.
And it convinced me that if we just approached our national politics the same way the American people approach their daily lives—at the workplace, at the Little League game; at church or the synagogue—with common sense, and a commitment to fair play and basic courtesy, that there is no problem that we couldn’t solve together.
And that was the vision that guided me when I first ran for the United States Senate. That’s the vision I shared when I said we are more than just a collection of red states and blue states, but we are the United States of America. And that vision is why, nine years ago today, on the steps of the Old State Capitol just a few blocks from here, I announced my candidacy for President.
Now, over these nine years, I want you to know my faith in the generosity and the fundamental goodness of the American people has been rewarded and affirmed over and over and over again. I’ve seen it in the determination of autoworkers who had been laid off but were sure that they could once again be part of a great, iconic Americans industry. I’ve seen it in the single mom who goes back to school even as she’s working and looking after her kids because she wants a better life for that next generation. I’ve seen it in the vision and risk-taking of small businessmen. I’ve seen it time and time again in the courage of our troops.
But it’s been noted often by pundits that the tone of our politics hasn’t gotten better since I was inaugurated, in fact it’s gotten worse; that there’s still this yawning gap between the magnitude of our challenges and the smallness of our politics. Which is why, in my final State of the Union address, and in the one before that, I had to acknowledge that one of my few regrets is my inability to reduce the polarization and meanness in our politics. I was able to be part of that here and yet couldn’t translate it the way I wanted to into our politics in Washington.
And people ask me why I’ve devoted so much time to this topic. And I tell them it’s not just because I’m President, and the polarization and the gridlock are frustrating to me. The fact is we’ve gotten a heck of a lot done these past seven years, despite the gridlock. We saved the economy from a depression. We brought back an auto industry from the brink of collapse. We helped our businesses create 14 million new jobs over the past six years. We cut the unemployment rate from 10 percent to 4.9 percent. We covered nearly 18 million more Americans with health insurance. We ignited a clean energy revolution. We got bin Laden. We brought the vast majority of our troops home to their families. (Applause.) We got a lot done. We’re still getting a lot done.
And our political system helped make these things possible, and the list could go on. There’s no doubt America is better off today than when I took office. (Applause.) I didn’t want this to be a State of Union speech where we have the standing up and the sitting down. (Laughter.) Come on, guys, you know better than that. (Laughter and applause.) No, no, no, I’ve got a serious point to make here. I’ve got a serious point to make here because this is part of the issue, right? We have an importation of our politics nationally, and on cable and talk radio, and it seeps into everything.
The point I’m trying to make is I care about fixing our politics not only because I’m the President today, or because some of my initiatives have been blocked by Congress—that happens to every President, happens to every governor, happens to everybody who participates—anybody who participates in a democracy. You’re not going to get 100 percent of what you want all the time.
