READ! PRESIDENT OBAMA FAREWELL MESSAGE.

                  
President Barack Obama delivered a farewell speech to the
nation on January 10, 2017 in Chicago, Illinois as President-
elect Donald Trump will be sworn in the as the 45th president
on January 20.
The speech was powerful, inspiring and a reminder of what a
great President Barack Obama was.
Read the full speech below.
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.
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.