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英文原文
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.
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 ma
king 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
wh
at’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
–
includi
ng 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
surveilla
nce
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
intere
st 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
be
en. 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
para
lyzed
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
do
ne 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
inc
redible 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 h
ere.
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
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