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http://www.alternet.org/story/23240/

 

Big Dreams, Big Hopes

 

By Barack Obama, AlterNet. Posted June 30, 2005.

 

 

What if we prepared every child with the education and skills they

need to compete in the new economy? What if no matter where you worked

or how many times you switched jobs, you had health care and a pension

that stayed with you?

 

Editor's Note: Senator Barack Obama (D- Illinois) delivered the

following commencement address at Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois

on Saturday, June 4, where he was awarded an honorary degree in

recognition of his accomplishments in public service. Obama was

elected to the U.S. Senate last November, with the largest victory

margin in Illinois history.

 

Good morning President Taylor, Board of Trustees, faculty, parents,

family, friends, the community of Galesburg, the class of 1955 --

which I understand was out partying last night, and yet still showed

up here on time -- and most of all, the Class of 2005. Congratulations

on your graduation, and thank you for the honor of allowing me to be a

part of it. Thank you also, Mr. President, for this honorary degree.

It was only a couple of years ago that I stopped paying my student

loans in law school. Had I known it was this easy, I would have ran

for the United States Senate earlier.

 

You know, it has been about six months now since you sent me to

Washington as your United States Senator. I recognize that not all of

you voted for me, so for those of you muttering under your breath " I

didn't send you anywhere, " that's ok too. Maybe we'll hold -- what do

you call it -- a little Pumphandle after the ceremony. Change your

mind for next time.

 

It has been a fascinating journey thus far. Each time I walk onto the

Senate floor, I'm reminded of the history, for good and for ill, that

has been made there. But there have been a few surreal moments. For

example, I remember the day before I was sworn in, myself and my

staff, we decided to hold a press conference in our office. Now, keep

in mind that I am ranked 99th in seniority. I was proud that I wasn't

ranked dead last until I found out that it's just because Illinois is

bigger than Colorado. So I'm 99th in seniority, and all the reporters

are crammed into the tiny transition office that I have, which is

right next to the janitor's closet in the basement of the Dirksen

Office Building. It's my first day in the building, I have not taken a

single vote, I have not introduced one bill, had not even sat down in

my desk, and this very earnest reporter raises his hand and says:

 

" Senator Obama, what is your place in history? "

 

I did what you just did, which is laugh out loud. I said, place in

history? I thought he was kidding! At that point, I wasn't even sure

the other Senators would save a place for me at the cool kids' table.

 

But as I was thinking about the words to share with this class, about

what's next, about what's possible, and what opportunities lay ahead,

I actually think it's not a bad question for you, the class of 2005,

to ask yourselves:

 

" What will be your place in history? "

 

In other eras, across distant lands, this question could be answered

with relative ease and certainty. As a servant in Rome, you knew you'd

spend your life forced to build somebody else's Empire. As a peasant

in 11th Century China, you knew that no matter how hard you worked,

the local warlord might come and take everything you had -- and you

also knew that famine might come knocking at the door. As a subject of

King George, you knew that your freedom of worship and your freedom to

speak and to build your own life would be ultimately limited by the

throne.

 

And then America happened.

 

A place where destiny was not a destination, but a journey to be

shared and shaped and remade by people who had the gall, the temerity

to believe that, against all odds, they could form " a more perfect

union " on this new frontier. And as people around the world began to

hear the tale of the lowly colonists who overthrew an empire for the

sake of an idea, they started to come. Across oceans and the ages,

they settled in Boston and Charleston, Chicago and St. Louis,

Kalamazoo and Galesburg, to try and build their own American Dream.

 

This collective dream moved forward imperfectly -- it was scarred by

our treatment of native peoples, betrayed by slavery, clouded by the

subjugation of women, shaken by war and depression. And yet, brick by

brick, rail by rail, calloused hand by calloused hand, people kept

dreaming, and building, and working, and marching, and petitioning

their government, until they made America a land where the question of

our place in history is not answered for us. It's answered by us.

 

Have we failed at times? Absolutely. Will you occasionally fail when

you embark on your own American journey? You surely will. But the test

is not perfection. The true test of the American ideal is whether

we're able to recognize our failings and then rise together to meet

the challenges of our time. Whether we allow ourselves to be shaped by

events and history, or whether we act to shape them. Whether chance of

birth or circumstance decides life's big winners and losers, or

whether we build a community where, at the very least, everyone has a

chance to work hard, get ahead, and reach their dreams.

 

We have faced this choice before.

 

At the end of the Civil War, when farmers and their families began

moving into the cities to work in the big factories that were

sprouting up all across America, we had to decide: Do we do nothing

and allow captains of industry and robber barons to run roughshod over

the economy and workers by competing to see who can pay the lowest

wages at the worst working conditions? Or do we try to make the system

work by setting up basic rules for the market, instituting the first

public schools, busting up monopolies, letting workers organize into

unions?

 

We chose to act, and we rose together.

 

When the irrational exuberance of the Roaring Twenties came crashing

down with the stock market, we had to decide: do we follow the call of

leaders who would do nothing, or the call of a leader who, perhaps

because of his physical paralysis, refused to accept political paralysis?

 

We chose to act -- regulating the market, putting people back to work,

expanding bargaining rights to include health care and a secure

retirement-and together we rose.

 

When World War II required the most massive homefront mobilization in

history and we needed every single American to lend a hand, we had to

decide: Do we listen to skeptics who told us it wasn't possible to

produce that many tanks and planes? Or, did we build Roosevelt's

Arsenal for Democracy and grow our economy even further by providing

our returning heroes with a chance to go to college and own their own

home?

 

Again, we chose to act, and again, we rose together.

 

Today, at the beginning of this young century, we have to decide

again. But this time, it is your turn to choose.

 

Here in Galesburg, you know what this new challenge is. You've seen

it. All of you, your first year in college saw what happened at 9/11.

It's already been noted, the degree to which your lives will be

intertwined with the war on terrorism that currently is taking place.

But what you've also seen, perhaps not as spectacularly, is the fact

that when you drive by the old Maytag plant around lunchtime, no one

walks out anymore. I saw it during the campaign when I met union guys

who worked at the plant for 20, 30 years and now wonder what they're

gonna do at the age of 55 without a pension or health care; when I met

the man who's son needed a new liver but because he'd been laid off,

didn't know if he could afford to provide his child the care that he

needed.

 

It's as if someone changed the rules in the middle of the game and no

one bothered to tell these folks. And, in reality, the rules have

changed. It started with technology and automation that rendered

entire occupations obsolete -- when was the last time anybody here

stood in line for the bank teller instead of going to the ATM, or

talked to a switchboard operator? Then it continued when companies

like Maytag were able to pick up and move their factories to some

underdeveloped country where workers were a lot cheaper than they are

in the United States.

 

As Tom Friedman points out in his new book, " The World Is Flat, " over

the last decade or so, these forces -- technology and globalization --

have combined like never before. So that while most of us have been

paying attention to how much easier technology has made our own lives

-- sending emails back and forth on our Blackberries, surfing the Web

on our cell phones, instant messaging with friends across the world --

a quiet revolution has been breaking down barriers and connecting the

world's economies. Now business not only has the ability to move jobs

wherever there's a factory, but wherever there's an internet connection.

 

Countries like India and China realized this. They understand that

they no longer need to be just a source of cheap labor or cheap

exports. They can compete with us on a global scale. The one resource

they needed were skilled, educated workers. So they started schooling

their kids earlier, longer, with a greater emphasis on math and

science and technology, until their most talented students realized

they don't have to come to America to have a decent life -- they can

stay right where they are.

 

The result? China is graduating four times the number of engineers

that the United States is graduating. Not only are those Maytag

employees competing with Chinese and Indian and Indonesian and Mexican

workers, you are too. Today, accounting firms are e-mailing your tax

returns to workers in India who will figure them out and send them

back to you as fast as any worker in Illinois or Indiana could.

 

When you lose your luggage in Boston at an airport, tracking it down

may involve a call to an agent in Bangalore, who will find it by

making a phone call to Baltimore. Even the Associated Press has

outsourced some of their jobs to writers all over the world who can

send in a story at a click of a mouse.

 

As Prime Minister Tony Blair has said, in this new economy, " Talent is

the 21st-century wealth. " If you've got the skills, you've got the

education, and you have the opportunity to upgrade and improve both,

you'll be able to compete and win anywhere. If not, the fall will be

further and harder than it ever was before. So what do we do about

this? How does America find its way in this new, global economy? What

will our place in history be?

 

Like so much of the American story, once again, we face a choice. Once

again, there are those who believe that there isn't much we can do

about this as a nation. That the best idea is to give everyone one big

refund on their government -- divvy it up by individual portions, in

the form of tax breaks, hand it out, and encourage everyone to use

their share to go buy their own health care, their own retirement

plan, their own child care, their own education, and so on.

 

In Washington, they call this the Ownership Society. But in our past

there has been another term for it -- Social Darwinism; every man or

woman for him or herself. It's a tempting idea, because it doesn't

require much thought or ingenuity. It allows us to say that those

whose health care or tuition may rise faster than they can afford --

tough luck. It allows us to say to the Maytag workers who have lost

their job -- life isn't fair. It let's us say to the child who was

born into poverty -- pull yourself up by your bootstraps. And it is

especially tempting because each of us believes we will always be the

winner in life's lottery, that we're the one who will be the next

Donald Trump, or at least we won't be the chump who Donald Trump says:

" You're fired! "

 

But there is a problem. It won't work. It ignores our history. It

ignores the fact that it's been government research and investment

that made the railways possible and the internet possible. It's been

the creation of a massive middle class, through decent wages and

benefits and public schools that allowed us all to prosper. Our

economic dependence depended on individual initiative. It depended on

a belief in the free market; but it has also depended on our sense of

mutual regard for each other, the idea that everybody has a stake in

the country, that we're all in it together and everybody's got a shot

at opportunity. That's what's produced our unrivaled political stability.

 

And so if we do nothing in the face of globalization, more people will

continue to lose their health care. Fewer kids will be able to afford

the diploma you're about to receive.

 

More companies like United Airlines won't be able to provide pensions

for their employees. And those Maytag workers will be joined in the

unemployment line by any worker whose skills can be bought and sold on

the global market.

 

So today I'm here to tell you what most of you already know. This is

not us -- the option that I just mentioned. Doing nothing. It's not

how our story ends -- not in this country. America is a land of big

dreamers and big hopes.

 

It is this hope that has sustained us through revolution and civil

war, depression and world war, a struggle for civil and social rights

and the brink of nuclear crisis. And it is because our dreamers

dreamed that we have emerged from each challenge more united, more

prosperous, and more admired than before.

 

So let's dream. Instead of doing nothing or simply defending

20th-century solutions, let's imagine together what we could do to

give every American a fighting chance in the 21st century.

 

What if we prepared every child in America with the education and

skills they need to compete in the new economy? If we made sure that

college was affordable for everyone who wanted to go? If we walked up

to those Maytag workers and we said " Your old job is not coming back,

but a new job will be there because we're going to seriously retrain

you and there's life-long education that's waiting for you -- the

sorts of opportunities that Knox has created with the Strong Futures

scholarship program.

 

What if no matter where you worked or how many times you switched

jobs, you had health care and a pension that stayed with you always,

so you all had the flexibility to move to a better job or start a new

business? What if instead of cutting budgets for research and

development and science, we fueled the genius and the innovation that

will lead to the new jobs and new industries of the future?

 

Right now, all across America, there are amazing discoveries being

made. If we supported these discoveries on a national level, if we

committed ourselves to investing in these possibilities, just imagine

what it could do for a town like Galesburg. Ten or 20 years down the

road, that old Maytag plant could re-open its doors as an Ethanol

refinery that turned corn into fuel. Down the street, a biotechnology

research lab could open up on the cusp of discovering a cure for

cancer. And across the way, a new auto company could be busy churning

out electric cars. The new jobs created would be filled by American

workers trained with new skills and a world-class education.

 

All of that is possible but none of it will come easy. Every one of us

is going to have to work more, read more, train more, think more. We

will have to slough off some bad habits -- like driving gas guzzlers

that weaken our economy and feed our enemies abroad. Our children will

have to turn off the TV set once in a while and put away the video

games and start hitting the books. We'll have to reform institutions,

like our public schools, that were designed for an earlier time.

Republicans will have to recognize our collective responsibilities,

even as Democrats recognize that we have to do more than just defend

old programs.

 

It won't be easy, but it can be done. It can be our future. We have

the talent and the resources and brainpower. But now we need the

political will. We need a national commitment.

 

And we need each of you.

 

Now, no one can force you to meet these challenges. If you want, it

will be pretty easy for you to leave here today and not give another

thought to towns like Galesburg and the challenges they face. There is

no community service requirement in the real world; no one is forcing

you to care. You can take your diploma, walk off this stage, and go

chasing after the big house, and the nice suits, and all the other

things that our money culture says that you should want, that you

should aspire to, that you can buy.

 

But I hope you don't walk away from the challenge. Focusing your life

solely on making a buck shows a certain poverty of ambition. It asks

too little of yourself. You need to take up the challenges that we

face as a nation and make them your own. Not because you have a debt

to those who helped you get here, although you do have that debt. Not

because you have an obligation to those who are less fortunate than

you, although I do think you do have that obligation. It's primarily

because you have an obligation to yourself. Because individual

salvation has always depended on collective salvation. Because it's

only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that

you realize your true potential.

 

And I know that all of you are wondering how you'll do this, the

challenges seem so big. They seem so difficult for one person to make

a difference.

 

But we know it can be done. Because where you're sitting, in this very

place, in this town, it's happened before.

 

Nearly two centuries ago, before civil rights, before voting rights,

before Abraham Lincoln, before the Civil War, before all of that,

America was stained by the sin of slavery. In the sweltering heat of

southern plantations, men and women who looked like me could not

escape the life of pain and servitude in which they were sold. And

yet, year after year, as this moral cancer ate away at the American

ideals of liberty and equality, the nation was silent.

 

But its people didn't stay silent for long.

 

One by one, abolitionists emerged to tell their fellow Americans that

this would not be our place in history -- that this was not the

America that had captured the imagination of the world.

 

This resistance that they met was fierce, and some paid with their

lives. But they would not be deterred, and they soon spread out across

the country to fight for their cause. One man from New York went west,

all the way to the prairies of Illinois to start a colony.

 

And here in Galesburg, freedom found a home.

 

Here in Galesburg, the main depot for the Underground Railroad in

Illinois, escaped slaves could roam freely on the streets and take

shelter in people's homes. And when their masters or the police would

come for them, the people of this town would help them escape north,

some literally carrying them in their arms to freedom.

 

Think about the risks that involved. If they were caught abetting a

fugitive, you could've been jailed or lynched. It would have been

simple for these townspeople to turn the other way; to go live their

lives in a private peace.

 

And yet, they didn't do that. Why?

 

Because they knew that we were all Americans; that we were all

brothers and sisters; the same reason that a century later, young men

and women your age would take Freedom Rides down south, to work for

the Civil Rights movement. The same reason that black women would walk

instead of ride a bus after a long day of doing somebody else's

laundry and cleaning somebody else's kitchen. Because they were

marching for freedom.

 

Today, on this day of possibility, we stand in the shadow of a lanky,

raw-boned man with little formal education who once took the stage at

Old Main and told the nation that if anyone did not believe the

American principles of freedom and equality, that those principles

were timeless and all-inclusive, they should go rip that page out of

the Declaration of Independence.

 

My hope for all of you is that as you leave here today, you decide to

keep these principles alive in your own life and in the life of this

country. You will be tested. You won't always succeed. But know that

you have it within your power to try. That generations who have come

before you faced these same fears and uncertainties in their own time.

And that through our collective labor, and through God's providence,

and our willingness to shoulder each other's burdens, America will

continue on its precious journey toward that distant horizon, and a

better day.

 

Thank you so much class of 2005, and congratulations on your

graduation. Thank you.

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